Zhang the Celestial Master stepped forward, voice ringing through the hall. "May I ask which sect our guests represent?"
A clear, regional accent replied with a chuckle, "May I join the selection trial as well?" Without waiting, the speaker strode past Zhang, followed closely by two comrades.
Only then did everyone fully see them. The central youth looked seventeen or eighteen—blue shirt, jeans, Nike sneakers, long bangs hiding his brow, a single silver hoop in his left ear. To his left stood a slightly older youth whose melancholy brows betrayed unspoken sorrow. On the right stood one as young as the first but visibly anxious amid so many masters.
Li Jimin, still flushed from defeating Ou Zhengqing, leapt forward. "Fine—let me test my skill against you!"
The left youth's firm voice cut through the hall: "Rudeness will not go unpunished!" He extended his hand and flicked out what appeared to be a whip. In an instant it coiled around Li's arm—and hissed.
Li screamed, stumbling back, clutching his forearm. The "whip" revealed itself as a golden money snake, its fangs dripping venom. Blackness crept up Li's flesh.
The central youth scolded, "Brother Hui, that was too harsh! Quickly, heal him."
The right youth hurried over, pressed white powder onto the wound, and drew the poison out in a steady stream. Within moments Li Jimin's arm lost its black stain.
The blue-shirted youth bowed apologetically. "My Fourth Senior Brother Ziegler has offended you. I offer my deepest apologies." Li, still shaken, retreated into the crowd.
Zhang recovered his composure. "May I inquire, then—who are you masters of?"
The youth grinned. "I am Lan Xuan, current leader of the Hidden Miao Sect. This is my Fourth Senior Brother, Qi Ziegler, and my Sixth Senior Brother, Jiang Hui."
A murmur swept the assembly. The Hidden Miao Sect had been little more than legend since the Taihu Isle summit—now its head appeared in person.
Zhang studied Lan Xuan coolly. "If you truly are the sect's leader, show us the Jade-Green Oriole token of your office."
At that name, Ou Zhengqing glanced at Cui Shensi. Cui's lips trembled, betraying excitement.
Lan Xuan scratched his head. "The Jade-Green Oriole was lost long ago. Shall we propose a new token?"
Zhang's eyes narrowed. "The Jade-Green Oriole was our sole proof of authority. Without it, what guarantee have we?" His tone turned hostile.
Qi Ziegler stepped forward. "Senior Sister Yan Xiaoqing of Emei knows the token's fate. Ask Abbot Qingxuan to summon her testimony."
All eyes shifted to the abbess. She shifted in her seat. "Regrettably, Senior Sister Xiaoqing is away on urgent duty and cannot attend."
Zhang snorted. "Impostors are everywhere. Without proof, we cannot trust mere claims."
Lan Xuan smiled serenely. "Then consider us free swordsmen. We only wish to join the contest."
Zhang straightened. "Very well. The groups have already been drawn. You three may take one slot—choose among yourselves who will represent your trio."
A ripple of dissatisfaction stirred. Ou Zhengqing leapt up. "Unfair! You three possess great ability—surely each deserves a chance!"
All turned to him; Zhang's brow darkened.
Lan Xuan laughed, unfazed. "How is it unfair?"
Ou Zhengqing stammered, "You—your powers far exceed ours. You should all compete."
Zhang's jaw clenched. Cui Shensi hurried forward to smooth matters. "Let us switch to a challenge format: the three of you hold the ring as masters, and the other five contenders may take turns challenging you."
Whispers rose, but most young masters nodded in agreement. Reluctantly, Zhang assented.