Whether one could win the Patriarch's favor was the most direct manifestation of a disciple's natural talent. Yet Wei Yuan stood for a long time watching five or six batches go inside, and only one person received a bestowal.
Farther away, Zhang Sheng was speaking with Sun Yu. By the rules, he could only stand more than ten zhang outside the great hall, alongside the elders and guardians of the other new disciples.
Zhang Sheng glanced over the number of new disciples and remarked, "There really are quite a few more new disciples this year."
"A hundred and fifty were accepted across seventeen provinces in total, not even ten per province—it isn't really that many," Sun Yu replied.
"In my year, there were only eighty-four," Zhang Sheng said.
Sun Yu said, "True Monarch Yanshi's stance is to open the mountain gates wide and teach without discrimination. As I see it, taking in a few more disciples isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"Let us hope so."
Just then, as a new batch of disciples entered, another change came over the Patriarch's statue: a speck of radiance flew out from the jade hair crown binding the Patriarch's hair and entered the body of a young girl. Not far away, an elderly man was instantly beside himself with joy, roaring with laughter, "Splendid, splendid, splendid! This bestowal is peerless! There is hope for the resurgence of my Jiao family! The ancestors have opened their eyes, the ancestors have opened their eyes!"
Weeping and laughing at once, the old man drew sidelong glances from all around. Right away, someone spoke up in a sarcastic, mocking tone, asking a companion beside him, "Do you know what that head crown signifies?"
"Naturally not!" the companion replied.
"While the head crown is a treasure, it is neither a piece of the Patriarch's true form nor a lethal treasure like an immortal sword. It's like clothing—an everyday item, emphasizing delicate craftsmanship. Usually, those who receive such a bestowal find it easy to advance in artifact refinement, handling treasures, and auxiliary Daoist arts. Which is to say, when her fellow sect members charge the enemy lines in the future, she can play support in the rear, maybe repair a magic treasure or two."
After that snide speech, the old man's face turned green and red by turns. He raised his voice: "No matter what it is, it is the Patriarch's bestowal! It's better than walking away with nothing!"
The sarcastic man instantly flared up and snapped, "What did you say? My child hasn't even gone in yet! How dare you say he'll get nothing?"
The old man pointed toward the great hall and said, "Isn't that him going in right now?"
Sure enough, the sarcastic man's child was in this very batch. Yet right until the worship was concluded, the Patriarch's statue remained completely still. Shamed and infuriated, and subjected to the old man's relentless mockery, the man could no longer save face and scurried off.
Right then, the ceremonial Daoist could be heard calling out from afar: "Yongzhou, Fengyuan Commandery, Wei Yuan; Fengyuan Commandery, Bao Yun; Fengyuan Commandery, Xiaoyu; ... Fengyuan Commandery, Yan Ming."
As this string of names was read aloud, a sudden stir rippled through the crowd.
"Why are there so many from Fengyuan Commandery?"
"Exactly! Our entire Ganzhou Province only took in five new disciples, yet that one commandery got six!"
An elderly man in cloth robes suddenly stepped forward and shouted, "Our Chuzhou is a major province under heaven, yet we were only granted eight spots! Yongzhou is a desolate backwater, yet a single commandery gets six? If anyone claims there's no foul play, I'll be the first to call foul! The Palace of Grand Beginning is an immortal sect—how can it command respect when it acts so unfairly?! I refuse to accept this!"
The old man's outcry immediately drew echoes of agreement from many in the crowd. Even someone from Yongzhou spoke up: "Of Yongzhou's nine commanderies, the other eight only had one accepted between them! On what grounds does Fengyuan Commandery get six?"
The ceremonial Daoists called for silence several times, but the commotion only escalated. The old man leading the outcry hopped madly as he cried grievance, repeatedly asserting that his precious grandson had missed acceptance by just a hair. If the Palace of Grand Beginning truly acted with fairness, it ought to reallocate Fengyuan Commandery's spots to Chuzhou so his grandson could enter the Palace of Grand Beginning as well.
Zhang Sheng looked to his left and right, spotting the burly man and the old man from the Bao family. The Bao elder looked wooden and impassive, as though nothing in the world could shake his composure, while the burly man stood with folded arms, sneering. Seeing Zhang Sheng look his way, the burly man walked over and asked, "Why aren't you going over to argue with them?"
Zhang Sheng replied mildly, "He's taking aim at prominent, noble clans like yours. What has it to do with me? Then again, why is your Xiao family tolerating such insolence?"
The burly man grinned and said, "This is sect business. If he named my Xiao family specifically, I would take action myself. But I doubt he has the nerve."
While the burly man remained unflappable, the few ceremonial Daoists were young and inexperienced. Flustered, they tried to reason with the crowd while blocking them. Seeing their hesitation, the old man made an even bigger scene, howling relentlessly for justice. Sweat beaded on the young Daoists' foreheads; at a total loss, they had no idea how to resolve the situation.
Just then, a Daoist suddenly appeared upon the square. The moment he materialized, an immense, ferocious horned dragon manifested above his head. An invisible pressure instantly enveloped the entire square, freezing everyone below the dharma idol realm in place, swiftly suppressing the chaos.
All the ceremonial Daoists immediately bowed and greeted him: "Greetings, Real Person Tengqiu!"
The Daoist asked coldly, "What is all this clamor?"
One of the young ceremonial Daoists promptly recounted what had transpired. As the Real Person listened, his expression darkened, and the invisible pressure abruptly intensified. The old man stood rigid where he was, as if crushed beneath a mountain, unable to move or utter a word, his face filled with panic.
Real Person Tengqiu rebuked, "How many disciples are accepted from each province is decided by the True Monarchs themselves—how dare you presumptuously question it! To cause a disturbance before the Patriarch Hall demands punishment."
The Daoist reached out into the empty air, and a long whip of lightning appeared in his grasp. With a flick of his arm, he lashed it directly down upon the old man's head!
A screen immediately materialized above the old man's head, bearing the painting of a plum tree in full bloom. When the whip struck down, the screen cracked instantly, and plum blossoms fell like rain until hardly any remained. Taking the lash, the old man collapsed limply to the ground. In a flash, more than half his hair turned white, and the wrinkles on his face deepened as if he had aged more than a decade.
Many in the watching crowd sucked in a sharp breath. With that single lash, Real Person Tengqiu had shattered a good portion of the old man's Dao Foundation, destroying decades of his cultivation at the very least.
Real Person Tengqiu dispersed the lightning whip and said, "This lash is merely a minor reprimand. In consideration of your child's youth and ignorance, he will not be expelled for now; instead, he is demoted to nominal disciple to cultivate alongside the rest in the palace, pending further evaluation."
Unable to speak, the old man only spat blood before being carried away by his family disciples.
Having dealt with this disturbance, Real Person Tengqiu did not leave. He stood on the square, watching the new disciples enter the hall to worship the Patriarch.
Sun Yu suddenly sighed and murmured, "That man only wanted to fight for an opportunity for his descendant, but he chose the wrong means, and ended up throwing away his own path of Dao. He still had a slim hope of forming a dharma idol."
Someone nearby chimed in, "Cultivators from small clans have meager resources, so they have to fight for everything. Always fighting, fighting everywhere, until it becomes second nature—and then they go and fight against the Palace of Grand Beginning. In truth, having even one junior enter the Palace of Grand Beginning is like a carp leaping over the dragon gate for a family like that. To think that wasn't enough—such boundless greed."
By now, Wei Yuan was following the guidance of the ceremonial Daoist into the Patriarch Hall. Before the Patriarch's statue, which stood dozens of zhang tall, both new disciples and ceremonial Daoists seemed as insignificant as ants.
Following the instructions of the ceremonial Daoist, Wei Yuan knelt upon the prayer mat before the Patriarch's statue and began paying homage. After seven prostrations, Wei Yuan silently recited the ceremonial invocation. At that moment, he felt as though a gaze descended from an infinite height, seeing right through him inside and out in an instant.
In a flash, Wei Yuan felt as if his consciousness had been plucked from his body, soaring to boundless heights. The Patriarch Hall below shrank to the size of a palm. Yet that gaze was still looking down upon Wei Yuan from even higher up, and he could not perceive its origin at all.
A pang of panic struck Wei Yuan; looking around, he saw only a vast, empty void.
As that gaze from on high settled upon him, the providence within Wei Yuan's body seemed stirred, beginning to sprout. Then Wei Yuan felt an invisible presence appear on high, standing in opposition to the origin of the gaze.
That invisible presence was indescribably colossal, ancient, and desolate, with no perceptible end. It seemed to have some connection with Wei Yuan's providence, but the sensation of that bond was exceptionally faint, leaving Wei Yuan uncertain whether it was even real.
At this moment, Wei Yuan's consciousness hung solitary on high, caught between two unknown entities above—like an ant standing between two great mountains, where being crushed to death would go entirely unnoticed.
No matter how Wei Yuan struggled, he could not move at all. He could only watch the figure down in the hall bowing again and again, as if the physical world no longer had anything to do with him.
Just then, faint music began to resonate within the hall. A pillar of light descended from midair, illuminating the Patriarch's statue, and within the light fell countless petals, drifting like rain.
Chapter 32