Elder Zhao's voice carried across the plateau, crisp as a blade.
"Those who remain—you are now outer disciples of the Starveil Sword Sect. Return to the base of the mountain. Collect your belongings. Speak with your families. Tomorrow, your lives will no longer be your own."
A cheer rose among the youths, some wild with relief, others too exhausted to do more than grin weakly. The veil of tension that had weighed on them for days seemed to shatter, replaced by laughter, sobs, and the murmurs of triumph.
Far above them, sitting cross-legged on nothing but air, John watched it all like an old man at a festival. An apple dangled loosely from his hand, its sweet juice still dripping between his fingers.
His grin widened as the memories of the last trials flickered back.
The Mirror Hall had been his favorite. Not because of its danger, but because of the looks on their faces. Dozens of proud, straight-backed youths strutting in with their heads high—only for most of them to crumble like wet parchment the instant the glass reflected their hearts back at them.
"Oh, that one…" John chuckled, nearly choking on his apple. "The boy who swore he feared nothing, only to see his reflection laugh at him. He ran screaming so fast I thought he'd break his own legs."
And then there was the smell. John threw his head back and laughed, the sound carrying into the clouds.
"One poor bastard couldn't take it at all—dropped right there, made a puddle on the sacred floor. Hah! You could see the other kids gagging while trying to act like they didn't notice."
He wiped his mouth, smirking. "The great Starveil Sect, brought to its knees by the power of… digestion."
The Constellation Path had its share of comedy too. Half the candidates had reached for their visions like children reaching for candy. Faces full of glory, triumph, recognition. Only to faint when the stars pressed harder, revealing their hollow pride.
"Their eyes were the best," John mused, mimicking the wide, desperate stares of those who had collapsed. "Like fish yanked out of a pond. Thrashing one moment, belly-up the next."
For a while he just sat there, swinging one leg lazily, watching the survivors below as they stumbled toward reunion with their families. There was a strange warmth in it all. The tears, the laughter, the relief. Fragile, but genuine.
"Messy little creatures," John murmured. "Chasing after power with shaky legs and empty bellies. And yet… some of them might just make it."
His gaze drifted upward to the sect's highest peak. Clouds coiled there like a crown of mist, obscuring the summit.
Breaking through the trials himself would've been child's play. He could slip past their wards unnoticed, take a seat in their main hall, and leave before anyone knew he was there. But that wasn't what amused him.
"I should probably… ask nicely," he said with a wry smile. "Sect leader, make me an elder. That's simple enough."
He bit into the apple again, the crunch echoing faintly through the sky. The thought of the elders' expressions—shock, disbelief, maybe even outrage—was enough to make him grin wider.
"Yes," he muttered. "That will be fun."
At the base of the mountain, Lin Feng and Qiao Wen made their way through the throngs of waiting families. Cheers and tears filled the square as parents embraced their children, pride overflowing.
Feng spotted Lin Ruyin and Lin Xue first. His mother rushed forward, pulling him into a fierce hug that squeezed the breath from him. Xue, pretending she wasn't crying, slapped him on the shoulder hard enough to sting.
"You did it," Ruyin whispered, her voice trembling. "My son… you really did it."
Feng grinned, sheepish but proud. "I told you I would."
Not far away, Wen approached his father. The City Lord's stern face cracked, just slightly, into something gentler. He clasped Wen's shoulder with both hands.
"Well done," he said, the words simple but warm. "You've upheld the Qiao name."
For Wen, that was more than enough. He bowed his head, but his eyes shone.
The small crowd celebrated, voices filling the courtyard.
And then, unnoticed at first, a figure appeared at the base of the main peak.
John stood there, hands tucked loosely behind his back, the last bite of his apple still in his mouth. He looked up at the towering mountain as though it were a casual stroll ahead, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The world around him bustled with reunion, laughter, and pride. But for John, it was only the beginning.