Your Spell Version is Too Low!

The setting sun slanted low, spilling down a blood-red afterglow.

An eagle, soaring with outstretched wings, descended from the clouds. The brilliant light splashed across the edges of its feathers, as if gilding them in crimson gold.

Its head lowered, its dark yellow pupils reflecting the endless mountain ranges below.

On a wide, flat clearing halfway up a mountain in the center of the range, over a hundred figures stood in silence. They didn’t exchange a single word, tension and unease etched on their young faces.

At the front of the crowd, a figure in black stood with his hands clasped behind his back.

He had a long, narrow face with thin brows and eyes. His gaze was like that of a cold viper, slowly sweeping over the group of youths.

"Step forward when I call your name."

The black-robed man took out a register that gleamed with an old luster. His eyelids lowered slightly, his gaze falling upon its pages.

"Fang Sea, Du Yunian, Shen Fan, Tang Shun..."

One by one, the names were read out in a monotonous voice.

With each name called, the corresponding youth would look as if they’d been granted a pardon. Their tense bodies would instantly relax, and they would take a deep breath, walking quickly out of the oppressive line with the relief of having survived a disaster to stand on the other side.

"Qi Yun."

Hearing his name, Qi Yun stepped out from the crowd. He slowly unclenched the fists in his sleeves, his knuckles having gone white, and calmly raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

’That was a close call. Thank goodness I broke through a month ago, or I would’ve been done for.’

As a Transmigrator, Qi Yun had inexplicably fallen into this cruel world two years ago.

He had been sold by his own parents to a human trafficker for the "huge sum" of three taels of silver. After being passed through several hands, he was finally picked up by the Infinite Demon Sect.

He became a prospective talent for this Demon Sect.

"Those whose names were called may now return."

The black-robed man snapped the register shut. His voice was indifferent, as if announcing some trivial matter.

"As for the rest of you, someone will come later to take you to... ’other places’ to continue your training."

As soon as he said this, the youths who remained grew frantic. Their lips trembled, wanting to plead or argue, but when they met the black-robed man’s icy gaze, they swallowed the words right back down.

’Speak out of turn, and you’ll be sentenced to having your tongue ripped out!’

In the two years they had struggled to survive in this Demon Cave, they had seen too many bloody examples.

The twisted, pained faces of those whose tongues had been pulled out now appeared with horrifying clarity in everyone’s mind!

Qi Yun turned in silence and followed the group that had passed, heading toward the low, oppressive living quarters on the mountainside.

His footsteps echoed dully on the cold stone.

He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his eye catching one last glimpse of the companions left behind, like lambs to the slaughter.

Their young, innocent faces now held only complete confusion and helplessness, as if their souls had been torn away.

’But... this is a Demon Sect.’

He sighed inwardly. Qi Yun turned his head back and quickened his pace, wanting only to leave the suffocating clifftop as soon as possible.

...

CLICK.

The sound of the wooden door closing was crisp.

The tension that had kept him taut finally snapped. As if all his strength had been drained, Qi Yun collapsed heavily onto the cold, hard plank bed.

Then he let out a long, deep breath, expelling the Muddy Qi that had been pent up for so long.

"I’ve... passed another hurdle..." his weary voice echoed softly in the empty stone room.

When he was sent to the Infinite Demon Sect two years ago, there were five hundred youths with him.

Just six months after entering the Sect, one hundred thirty-five of them were taken away without a word because they couldn’t grasp the abstruse "Qi Sensitivity."

A year later, another one hundred forty-nine were dragged away for failing to guide Qi into their bodies and cultivate their first wisp of True Qi.

Six months ago, one hundred seventeen more vanished from sight, their cultivation progress too slow to keep up with the brutal pace.

Until today...

’The last hurdle is almost here.’

Lying with his hands behind his head, Qi Yun’s clear, dark eyes stared quietly at the mold-spotted ceiling, which was pieced together from rough wooden planks.

The prospective talents of the Infinite Demon Sect had a two-year training period.

There was an assessment every six months. Those who failed to meet the standard would be "sent away" to become "Talent" for another purpose.

Only the top students who successfully broke through to the Qi Refining First Layer and mastered at least one Magic within these two years were qualified to participate in the final "Entrance Trial." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Passing the trial meant becoming a true disciple of the Infinite Demon Sect.

"Five hundred people, two years, and only forty-three remain. A one-in-ten pass rate... no, a survival rate."

Although he had luckily passed this time, Qi Yun didn’t feel much joy.

Through two years of cultivation and observation, he had come to clearly understand that his own aptitude for cultivation wasn’t the worst, but he could only be considered average.

The reason he had managed to become one of the last few was that his more mature mind had made him realize the danger of being eliminated and turned into "Talent" far earlier than the others. Therefore, he had to cultivate more diligently than anyone else. For two years, he hardly dared to slack off for a single moment.

Only by doing so had he barely managed to meet the passing mark.

’At this rate, even if I pass the trial and become a Demon Sect disciple, I won’t last long.’

Rubbing his temples, Qi Yun felt a heavy weight in his heart.

He knew all too well.

A place like the Infinite Demon Sect would never become merciful just because one’s status changed.

In fact, after officially joining, the competition and elimination would likely become even more intense and brutal.

The assessments would probably be even stricter.

"This isn’t joining a sect, it’s walking into a death trap!"

A strong sense of absurdity and helplessness washed over him. Qi Yun sat up, a glint of light flashing in his eyes. He then gently swept his right hand through the empty air.

The next instant!

A strange panel, woven from flowing, ethereal clouds and ink-black Ancient Seal characters, materialized before his eyes:

[Mastered Magic]

[Clear Wind Technique: Automatically Updating (Current Progress: 82%)]

Looking at the two simple yet agonizing lines of text on the panel, Qi Yun’s brow furrowed deeply, and he unconsciously pinched the corner of his eye.

’At this rate, there’s not enough time.’

This mysterious panel, which had accompanied him since he transmigrated, was his only wildcard and support in this abyss of despair.

To test its function, as soon as he had a meager amount of True Qi, he had immediately chosen the easiest Magic to learn, the [Clear Wind Technique], to cultivate.

It had started a year ago when he successfully mastered this basic Magic.

This "Automatically Updating" progress bar had quietly activated.

However, the update speed... was excruciatingly slow!

It had taken an entire year, crawling along like a snail, to arduously reach 82%.

To reach 100%, he conservatively estimated it would take at least another month of hard work.

But the final trial...

...was starting tomorrow.

...