Family Ascension

Every gaze in the arena was fixed on that lone female cultivator. Even the high-and-mighty host, who moments ago held an air of superiority, now looked utterly pitiful. The reason? He too had once hoped to become Lady Qinru's personal disciple. But that dream had never materialized. Now, someone far junior to him stood at the brink of obtaining what he had long yearned for.

Perhaps it was the blessings of her ancestors. He already knew what choice the girl would make.

But before the words could leave her lips, a voice rang out—nasal, whiny, and utterly ill-timed.

"I want to become Lady Qinru's personal disciple," said a bloodied figure limping toward the stage. It was none other than Token Holder Seventy—the short cultivator who had been severely beaten earlier. "Only by granting me this position can you atone for the injustice done to me!"

A tense silence fell... and then—

"Pfft—hahaha!"

Mocking laughter erupted from every corner.

"Is he serious?"

"Bastard, he's still alive? I thought he'd be in a coma by now!"

"Did you hear what he just demanded? He must've taken some delusional pill. Poor fool."

Despite the jeers, the short cultivator stood firm, his swollen pig-like face twitching as he locked eyes with the host... and then with Lady Qinru.

But the moment Lady Qinru met his gaze, a flicker of disgust passed through her.

'Audacious,' she thought. 'It's one thing to be amusing. It's another to shamelessly meddle in matters that do not concern you.'

Without a word, she raised her delicate hand and snapped her fingers.

The short cultivator's body trembled. His spiritual energy surged out of control—rising and rising until it overwhelmed him.

His seven orifices began to bleed.

BOOM!

A muffled explosion echoed across the arena. His body shattered into fragments, vaporized from within. Blood splattered across the stage, painting it red.

A few disciples from the Spring Water Sect calmly stepped forward and activated cleansing spells. The blood vanished in moments. Clearly, this wasn't the first time they had dealt with such aftermath. Perhaps, for them, it had become routine—just another reminder of what happened to those who disrespected Lady Qinru.

But the girl on stage had seen enough.

Without hesitation, she knelt and kowtowed.

"Disciple greets Master!"

Lady Qinru, still wearing her veil, let out a soft, amused chuckle. Though her face remained hidden, her laughter—clear as a silver bell—rippled through the air, causing more than a few disciples' hearts to tremble.

"Good," she said, her voice calm and melodious. "Since you've become my personal disciple, it's only proper that I offer you a greeting gift. Here."

She waved her hand, and a delicate jade box floated from her storage ring and descended into the girl's palms.

The surrounding crowd erupted in whispers.

"Did she just... descend from her seat?"

"My heavens... she's coming closer!"

Men stared dumbfounded. For many, it was their first time seeing Lady Qinru so up close. Their gazes shamelessly traced her long, jade-like legs and the graceful curves beneath her flowing robes. She radiated elegance and danger in equal measure.

From the crowd, Jiang Mu scoffed and muttered under his breath, "Hmph. Look at these lechers drooling like wild beasts. Even my master tried for years and failed. And they think they have a chance?"

On stage, Lady Qinru gently placed the jade box into her new disciple's hands. "Open it," she said.

The girl obeyed.

Swoosh!

A blinding light burst forth the moment the box opened. She shielded her eyes, and when the light dimmed, she peered inside.

Needles—black, fine, and chilling to look at.

She hesitated. "Master... are these poisonous needles?"

Lady Qinru laughed again—this time a bit louder, clearly entertained. "Silly child. These are forged from Meteoric Iron. A rare material in this lower realm. Very few weapons exist of its kind. But in the upper realm, they're considered scrap."

The girl stared in awe. Meteoric Iron was something even major sects could barely afford to use.

And yet...

"To me," said Lady Qinru, "this is just a small gift. But since it's from your master, treasure it well."

The girl immediately kowtowed again. "Thank you, Master!"

Lady Qinru sighed and gently pulled her up. "Enough. No need for excessive formality. In private, a simple bow will suffice. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. I didn't even ask your name yet. What is it?"

The girl quickly answered, "This disciple's name is Feng Ruilan."

"Feng Ruilan?" Lady Qinru nodded. "What a beautiful name. Then from now on, I shall call you... Ruilan. Come. Let's return to our seats. The next round is about to begin."

"Yes, Master."

Feng Ruilan followed her to the judging platform, standing beside her like a proper disciple. Her quiet demeanor and elegant bearing drew the attention of the other elders seated nearby—each one a master of a peak within the Spring Water Sect.

Some of them frowned.

"She has talent," one elder muttered mentally. "But her strength isn't anything remarkable."

"That doesn't matter," another replied through a secret voice transmission. "If her master shelters her, she could become a thorn in our plans."

A third elder with a sword-shaped birthmark on his forehead calmly raised his hand.

"If she becomes a threat," he said coldly, "we'll eliminate both her and her master."

His tone was icy. A brief flicker of murderous intent passed through his eyes... but just as quickly, he masked it with a serene smile.

Unaware of the shadow gathering above her, Feng Ruilan stood at her master's side, basking in the pride of being chosen—never realizing she had just stepped into a silent war.