A new mission shimmered before my eyes, glowing softly in lines of pale gold, like a promise wrapped in steel.
[Host Mission 01: Recruit 100 disciples with spiritual roots and raise the name of your sect in the world.]
Short. Clear. Yet heavier than any burden I had carried before.
Then, the warning blinked beneath it—cold and unyielding.
[Do not teach mortals before this requirement is fulfilled.
If anyone learns that your technique allows rootless beings to cultivate...
the probability of your death is 100%.]
My breath caught.
My fists clenched tightly, knuckles whitening.
A system that defied fate? Yes, that was my goal.
A sect built to shelter the forgotten? Absolutely.
But this... this was a blade cloaked in the sweetest kindness.
Rage simmered low in my chest—not at the system, but at the cruel world that demanded such lies.
How could I forge a sanctuary for the forsaken if I must deceive them?
How could I promise light while hiding the true source of its flame?
Yet, I understood the fear behind the warning.
This world feared what I could become.
A technique that freed mortals from the chains of fate would shatter the false heavens built by the proud.
And shattered heavens always summoned war.
So I made my choice.
"If I must begin in shadow... then so be it."
Let them believe I only seek the gifted for now.
Let the world watch with unblinking eyes as I build with those born under spiritual roots.
But one day, when I uncover the true enemies of mortals—
when I shatter their golden thrones and cast down their bloodline prisons—
then I will release my technique.
And the world will never be the same again.
I rose from the cold stone seat in the Grand Hall, the silence around me thick as ash.
I summoned Yun Shan.
He appeared like mist made flesh, quiet as snowfall on ancient pines.
"Go," I commanded, voice steady despite the storm inside.
"To the cities nearest Yinlu Mountain. Announce that the Ashen Vow Sect is accepting disciples."
Yun Shan bowed low. "Should I name the requirements?"
"Yes," I said. "Only those born with spiritual roots may apply. Not a word of mortals."
He nodded without hesitation.
"And one more thing," I added, the weight of my vow pressing on my tongue.
"Tell them those chosen will be gathered fifteen days from now.
On that day, the path to Yinlu Mountain will open for them."
Yun Shan bowed again, then vanished like a breeze slipping through the trees.
Three days later, in Hengliu City—
The town square lay dusty and cracked, worn down by neglect and forgotten hopes.
Banners of fallen sects hung limp, like tattered scars from wars long passed.
Cultivators rarely ventured here anymore. No sect had dared open recruitment in over a decade.
And then a man appeared.
Tall. Clad in pale robes that fluttered like quiet storms.
A sword hung at his side—not drawn, but always ready.
He spoke with certainty, voice calm and clear as the river at dawn.
"I am Yun Shan, envoy of the Ashen Vow Sect, recently founded atop Yinlu Mountain.
We seek one hundred disciples with spiritual roots—regardless of class or bloodline.
Those accepted will be gathered in fifteen days and brought to the mountain.
There, you will train. There, you will rise."
He paused, letting his words settle into the dusty air.
"And to the commonfolk of Hengliu, hear this—
those who dwell near Yinlu Mountain shall be under the sect's protection.
Bandits, beasts, raiders—they shall not pass."
He bowed once.
Then vanished down the street like mist fading with the morning sun.
The town stood silent.
At first, no one dared speak.
Then whispers rose.
"Did he say Yinlu Mountain? That cursed place?"
"Not cursed anymore. A new sect is rising there..."
"He bowed. No cultivator has bowed to us in my lifetime."
Old men murmured on benches, mothers clutched their children tighter.
But in the eyes of the young—
Hope flickered.
Over the next seven days—
Nine villages. Three cities. Two trading ports. One burnt-out fortress town.
Yun Shan visited them all.
His voice never rose above a calm whisper. His sword never left its sheath.
Yet wherever he walked, his presence lingered like a quiet storm.
He repeated his message with unwavering grace.
"The Ashen Vow Sect opens its gates.
We accept all who possess spiritual roots. No noble blood required. No clan affiliation needed.
In fifteen days, you will be gathered—if chosen.
Prepare yourselves."
He never lied.
He never spoke of mortals.
But always, he bowed at the end.
And to those who lived near Yinlu Mountain, he offered more than words—he offered protection.
No riches. No favors. Just a promise.
And in a world where promises were rarer than spirit stones, that was everything.
Back atop Yinlu Mountain—
I stood at the cliff's edge, gazing over mist-draped forests below.
The wind carried new voices. New faith.
The name Ashen Vow Sect had entered the world.
Not with thunder or lightning—
But with a whisper loud enough to reach the ears of fate.
They would come.
The proud.
The broken.
The forgotten.
Some would seek power.
Some would seek hope.
All would bring stories.
And one day...
When the time was right—
I would show them a path the heavens tried to bury.
Not just for the gifted.
But for everyone.
The vow was not broken.
It had only begun.