Chapter 14
Chapter 14: Why Does Your Sect Suddenly Have So Many People?
“Yo, Da Hu. You’re online fast.”
The player who logged in was Ma Little Bird. In the group, his ID was Jump High, Pee Far.
Male players picked names like that with a kind of shameless sincerity.
Wu Da Hu walked over immediately. “So? Feel any different?”
Ma Little Bird grinned. “Yeah. My eyesight’s better.”
It wasn’t subtle. He noticed it the instant he returned. Even crazier, his eyesight here was better than his eyesight in real life. He was slightly nearsighted on Blue Star.
“This game is insane,” Wu Da Hu said for what felt like the thousandth time. He swallowed, throat dry. “Do you think we got chosen for something? This doesn’t feel fake at all.”
Ma Little Bird laughed. “If it’s not a game, what else is it? You think we’re some legendary chosen ones? Who mass-produces chosen ones? We just got lucky and snagged first-batch non-wipe beta slots.”
Wu Da Hu had to admit it made sense.
“The System told us to find the Sect Master and get a cultivation method,” Wu Da Hu said. “It’s the middle of the night. Think she’s resting?”
“Cultivators don’t sleep,” Ma Little Bird said. “And plenty of people are about to log in. A lot of them got one-and-a-half-hour timers.”
Tonight would be an all-nighter.
And Song Jiu Lai, of course, wasn’t resting.
If anything, tonight mattered.
She was a Sect Master who needed her disciples to prop her up in reality—but in presentation, she was still the sect’s lone shining heroine. The “aura” had to be maintained.
And aura was something you manufactured.
Under the moonlight, she stood on the roof behind the courtyard. She spoke softly, as if her voice carried its own echoing reverb.
“I’m here.”
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird turned—
And froze.
Moonlight drenched the roof. Song Jiu Lai wore a long white dress that shifted gently in the wind. She stretched one hand toward the moon, and a faint glow gathered at her fingertips. The breeze lifted her skirt and teased loose strands of hair. Her expression was calm, almost sorrowful—like pity for the world, threaded with a loneliness that made the scene feel holy.
For one breath, she didn’t look like an NPC.
She looked like a divine maiden walking the mortal realm.
Immortal aura. Divinity. Atmosphere.
Perfect.
It even contrasted with her daytime warmth—making the effect sharper.
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird stood there, stunned stupid.
My mom is so beautiful!!!
All their earlier dirty jokes evaporated on the spot.
This was what a cultivation heroine was supposed to be: cold, distant, sacred—like she’d never belonged to ordinary life at all.
How could cheap ad characters ever compare?
If they hadn’t filled out that recruitment form, how would they ever have tasted something this good?
What they didn’t know was that Song Jiu Lai was holding the pose while hissing internally at the System.
“How is it?” she demanded. “Is the angle working? Am I giving enough vibe?”
The System answered blandly, “I don’t understand why you insist on being so theatrical.”
Song Jiu Lai snapped back, “What would you know? You’re a System. You’re like a hill pig that can’t appreciate fine food.”
The System: “…”
Judging by Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird’s faces, the performance was a complete success.
Song Jiu Lai didn’t even turn around, as if she already knew why they’d come.
Her gaze softened, like she was looking at children. The slightest smile touched her lips.
She flicked her wrist.
Two glowing scrolls shot forward and pressed into Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird’s foreheads like sparks sinking into water.
A basic reward from the System—something Yun Zhou Continent didn’t even have locally.
Song Jiu Lai had seen countless methods, but soul cultivation was new territory. After practicing it herself, she’d realized it didn’t refine the body first. It refined the soul.
She still didn’t fully understand it, but System-made products were rarely ordinary. After all, even the Spiritual Root Inner Pill didn’t appear in any of the materials she’d found on Yun Zhou Continent.
Once the method entered their minds, comprehension bloomed automatically, like a sealed door opening on its own. How far they could understand it depended on their own insight.
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird shuddered. Then Song Jiu Lai spoke.
“Comprehend it where you sit. Afterward, cultivate diligently.”
The System’s prompt followed at once.
After comprehending, go to A Wu to test your spiritual root talent and claim your spirit field.
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird immediately sat down to meditate.
It was hard to describe—the moment the method entered, it felt innate. They’d never seen the words before, yet the meaning unfolded in the mind.
But understanding wasn’t effortless. It was dense and obscure, the kind of difficulty that dredged up old memories of studying until your skull throbbed.
Still—
This was cultivation.
Who cared if it was hard?
Grit your teeth. Push through. That was the whole point.
As they began to comprehend, other players logged in one after another. Every new arrival felt the change in their bodies and couldn’t stop exclaiming.
“Insane!”
“Holy shit!”
“This is so sick!”
The vocabulary was limited, but the awe was genuine.
Everyone who logged in came looking for Song Jiu Lai to receive the method. She had already shifted to a new pose—one hand behind her back, standing on the rooftop as she gazed into the distance, worry faintly shadowing her brows.
The moonlight kissed her profile with a thin rim of glow.
The atmosphere was maxed out.
And the moon was absurdly cooperative tonight.
Song Jiu Lai listened as every player who walked in froze for two seconds, slack-jawed—
Then burst out with the same lines.
“Holy shit, she’s so pretty.”
“This is the real cultivation heroine!”
“My mom is so beautiful! If I’d known, I would’ve made my face prettier. Now I’m furious!”
After receiving their methods and comprehending on the spot, they headed to A Wu to test their spiritual roots.
A Wu didn’t sleep either. He guided the junior brothers and junior sisters through the process with practiced calm. He had small doubts about how the sect suddenly gained so many disciples, but not enough to resist. If the Sect Master said it, he supported it.
The test was simple. The Spirit Appraisal Stone sat at the center of the shabby round platform.
A Wu lifted his hand. The stone rose slowly into the air.
“Touch it,” he instructed. “That’s all.”
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird pressed their palms against it.
White.
Not surprising. A Wu had already explained it: white was the most common talent. They’d prepared themselves.
No fireworks. No miracle. Just… ordinary.
They exchanged a look that said the same thing.
Guess we’ll have to rely on pay-to-win later.
And then—
A woman in fitted clothes swept in from the night, dragging a thin kite-like craft. She landed lightly, and the kite vanished as if it had never existed.
Wu Da Hu and Ma Little Bird stared, stunned.
“A Wu,” she demanded, eyes narrowing, “why does your sect suddenly have so many people?”