Journey of the Immortal’s Cultivation

02. Windcloud Selection

The grand hall of Windcloud Sect was alive with a restless tide of voices, footsteps, and anticipation. Lanterns swung gently from the carved beams above, their golden light spilling across polished stone floors that had borne witness to countless ceremonies. The air itself seemed to hum with expectation, thick with the mingled scents of incense, sweat, and the faint metallic tang of weapons carried by eager aspirants.  

It was not merely the citizens of Hu Nan who had gathered here. From every corner of the Han Kingdom, young men and women had traveled—some for days, some for weeks—drawn by the promise of opportunity. The Windcloud Sect had long been regarded as a beacon of martial cultivation, yet unlike other sects, it imposed no rigid barriers to entry. Nobles, warriors, peasants, and wanderers alike were welcome to present themselves. No lineage was too humble, no skill too meager. Anyone could step forward, provided they accepted the risks that came with such ambition.  

The hall was a mosaic of humanity: the proud heirs of the Five Great Families in their embroidered robes, wandering swordsmen with weathered faces, merchants’ sons clutching charms for luck, and even ragged villagers who had never before stood beneath such vaulted ceilings. The sect’s openness had created a rare spectacle—an arena where destiny might be rewritten in a single day.  

Yet amid the throng, derision still found its voice.  

“Hey, beggar boy! Go back where you belong! This place isn’t meant for the likes of you!”  

The shout cut through the din, sharp and mocking. A youth dressed in immaculate silks sneered at the figure before him—a boy in tattered clothes, his hair unkempt, his skin streaked with the grime of long days without rest. His face bore the weary pallor of one who had not bathed in many suns, and the disdain in the noble youth’s eyes was palpable.  

Wu Tian, the target of the insult, did not flinch. His gaze remained steady, his steps purposeful. He had come here with resolve, and no insult could shake it. Unlike the polished heirs of the Wu family, who were known for their pristine appearance, Wu Tian seemed almost comfortable in his disheveled state. To the crowd, he looked no different from a vagrant who had wandered in from the streets.  

The noble youth’s anger flared at being ignored. “Did you not hear me? Leave! You’re filth among cultivators!” He shoved Wu Tian with sudden force, sending him sprawling to the ground. Laughter followed, cruel and echoing. “You’re better suited to begging than wielding a blade!”  

Wu Tian remained silent. He knew that to retaliate would mean expulsion before he even registered his name. Slowly, he rose, brushing dust from his sleeves, and continued toward the registration table.  

The registrar, a stern-faced sect member, eyed him with suspicion. “Name?”  

“Wu Tian,” he replied calmly.  

The registrar’s brows furrowed. “Wu Tian? Surely not of the illustrious Wu family? A beggar like you could never belong to them.”  

Wu Tian did not bristle at the insult. Instead, he answered with quiet pride, “I am indeed of the Wu family.”  

The registrar laughed harshly. “Dream on! The Wu family would never claim someone like you. Enough of your delusions. Begone!” He scribbled the name down nonetheless, dismissing him with a wave.  

Unbeknownst to Wu Tian, the arrogant youth who had mocked him earlier had overheard everything. Rage twisted his features. “A beggar daring to claim the Wu name? Shameless!” He lunged forward, kicking Wu Tian viciously. The blow sent him tumbling across the stone floor, his face striking hard against the ground.  

Wu Tian gasped, stunned by the cowardly attack. Pain radiated through his body; the kick had carried hidden force, a surge of inner energy meant to wound.  

“I can’t wait to crush you in the trials,” the youth spat, his voice dripping with malice.  

Wu Tian wiped blood from his lip, bewildered. “Trials? What trials?”  

The youth laughed cruelly. “Ignorant fool! To join Windcloud Sect, you must first prove yourself in combat. Every candidate must fight. Only those with skill survive.”  

Wu Tian’s heart jolted. He had believed registration alone was enough. “I… I thought it was just signing up,” he murmured.  

“Ha! Anyone can sign their name. The real test is battle. Withdraw now, unless you wish to be broken!”  

Before Wu Tian could respond, a sharp, commanding voice rang out. “Zhou Chen! Stop belittling others!”  

The arrogant youth—Zhou Chen—turned, his scowl melting into a smile as he recognized the speaker. A young woman approached, her presence radiant. Wei Xiuying, daughter of the Wei family, moved with grace that silenced the hall. Her beauty was striking, her eyes bright with intelligence, her bearing noble yet compassionate.  

“Xiuying? You’re here for the selection too?” Zhou Chen asked, his tone suddenly softened.  

Xiuying ignored him. She walked directly to Wu Tian, her gaze steady. “Your name is Wu Tian, isn’t it? Are you truly of the Wu family?”  

Wu Tian froze, captivated. Never before had someone so luminous addressed him with such sincerity. Her fragrance, delicate as peach blossoms in spring, reached him as she leaned closer.  

Zhou Chen barked, “Beggar! Don’t stare at her! Answer her question!”  

Wu Tian blinked, realizing the weight of her inquiry. The Wu family’s reputation was legendary in Hu Nan. His uncle’s words echoed in his mind—warnings about the sect’s trials. If he revealed the truth, his fragile chance might shatter.  

“I am not of the Wu family,” he said firmly. “How could a beggar like me bear such a name?”  

Xiuying tilted her head, curiosity gleaming. “Then why call yourself Wu Tian? What is your true name?”  

Her closeness unsettled him. He could feel his pulse quicken, the warmth of her presence overwhelming.  

“My name is Wang Jun,” he confessed. “I am but a farmer’s son, seeking fortune through this selection.”  

Xiuying’s lips curved into a gentle smile. “Ah, that explains your confusion.”  

Zhou Chen’s jealousy flared. “Xiuying! Why waste your kindness on him? He reeks of poverty. Stay away, lest you catch his disease!”  

Wu Tian exhaled heavily. His existence had always been hidden, uncelebrated. No birthdays, no recognition. To the Wu family, he was a shadow, a secret never spoken of. It was no wonder none of the great families knew his name.  

Xiuying’s voice was calm but resolute. “Zhou Chen, I choose whom I speak to. You have no right to dictate my actions.”  

Zhou Chen clicked his tongue, glaring at Wu Tian. “Watch yourself, beggar. Cross my path, and I’ll shatter your bones.”  

Xiuying turned back to Wu Tian, her tone softening. “Ignore his threats, Wang Jun. Focus on preparing your skills. That is what matters.”  

Wu Tian’s heart warmed at her kindness. “You are truly generous. The Wei family is fortunate to have such a daughter.”  

She laughed lightly. “Thank you. And you are bold, daring to enter despite your lack of training.”  

“You’re here for the selection too?” Wu Tian asked.  

“Yes. I must place within the top ten to earn recognition from my family. And you?”  

“I only wish to change my family’s fate,” Wu Tian said humbly.  

“Call me Xiuying, not ‘Miss,’” she replied warmly.  

“I must prove to my parents that I can succeed here, Xiuying,” Wu Tian continued.  

“Do you even know martial arts?” she asked.  

“Not much. But enough, I believe, to endure the trials.” His voice carried quiet conviction.  

It was true. His uncle Wu Chao had taught him fragments of martial skill. Though he lacked qi, he had learned enough to defend himself, if only barely.  

“Xiuying, the matches are starting! Come!” Zhou Chen interrupted impatiently.  

Xiuying offered Wu Tian a final smile. “Then may fortune favor you.” She departed with Zhou Chen, her presence lingering like a fading melody.  

Wu Tian’s eyes widened as he beheld the arena. Contestants clashed in dazzling displays of martial prowess, qi flowing like rivers of light through their bodies. Every strike, every movement was infused with cultivated energy.  

A chill ran through him. How could he, with his frail body and absent qi, survive such battles?  

“Participants, gather in the arena at once!”  

The command reverberated through the hall. Wu Tian’s fate was sealed.