Xu Yanlue wasn't really confused anymore when the old man declared his intention. In fact, she was quietly impressed.
Guts like that didn't grow on trees—especially considering who this guy had tangled with. That made it all the more remarkable.
She crossed her arms, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"I don't know who he is," she said coolly, "but I'll try to find him. Also—why didn't you just peek earlier? You're Rank 3, after all."
Before she could reply, the room suddenly flooded with a terrifying spiritual pressure—a heavy, suffocating wave that warped the air itself.
But Yanlue remained unfazed, her gaze steady.
The man's laughter turned low and dark.
"Hehe, you're sharp. I just made a breakthrough before I came here. About what you're asking… why pretend? You know it's illegal. You really think I'm the strongest in this entire building?"
Her eye twitched, irritation flickering across her face.
"Wei, why do you still use that mask? Do you actually want to become an old man? Or is it some kind of fetish?"
Wei laughed, unabashed.
"Why not? I love pretending to be an old man teaching juniors, you know?"
Yanlue looked at him with undisguised disgust, but he just grinned.
"Anyway, I'm busy. I'll leave first. Pass me the news if you find him."
And with that, his laughter faded, the sound disappearing as he vanished into thin air.
Yanlue sighed and shoved the whole thing to the back of her mind.
There were far more pressing matters waiting.
…
By dawn, the entire Verge Territory was buzzing—not with celebration, but with disbelief.
At a bustling teahouse, two cultivators leaned close, voices hushed but sharp.
"Wait… you're telling me this second talent thing can cripple your cultivation? For good?"
The other blinked, eyes wide. "Are you serious? Like… you can't just drop it and move on? You have to start over?"
The first scoffed. "That's insane. Who'd even risk that?"
—
Across the street, a group of young disciples gathered, each trying to outdo the other with shocked questions.
"Did you hear about the second talent? That it's some kind of contract?"
"Yeah. And if you don't have it, you're basically screwed."
"Wait—wait—how hard is it to create a second technique anyway? Can you really make one yourself?"
"Apparently it's like carving steel with bare hands. Not just difficult—impossible for most."
"Seriously? That sounds like a death sentence for most cultivators."
—
In a quiet library, a scholar slammed a book shut, voice trembling as he spoke to his apprentice.
"You mean to tell me everything we've learned so far… might be useless if our foundation isn't right?"
The apprentice swallowed hard. "Is that even possible? How did no one know?"
The scholar shook his head, eyes darting. "That's the real nightmare."
—
At the edge of a market, an old rogue laughed bitterly to his companion.
"So you're saying this second talent can bind you so tight you can't break free without losing everything?"
His friend nodded grimly. "Yeah. You break the contract, you break yourself."
The rogue spat on the ground. "Who in their right mind signs that?"
—
Back at a small sect, a disciple whispered fiercely.
"Why didn't anyone tell us? How do you even test for this second talent?"
A senior replied dryly, "Because no one knew it existed."
"Then why mention it now? What's the point?"
"Because it's already too late."
—
From quiet taverns to bustling bazaars, the questions piled up.
"That stuff exists? For real?"
"Sounds like some twisted curse, not cultivation."
"Is this some kind of sect conspiracy? Why hide it for so long?"
"Whoever controls this secret… controls everything."
—
The Verge Territory wasn't just talking.
It was rattled.
Afraid.
Confused.
And on edge.
Because for the first time in decades, they realized they might be standing on the edge of something they didn't understand—and couldn't afford to ignore.
—
The news spread faster than wildfire.
The Moonlit Pavilion was going to host a test—
A test to see if you possessed the second talent.
And if you did…
You'd be bound by a contract, one you couldn't break.
A contract that marked you—
Made you their own.
—
In a crowded teahouse, voices erupted all at once.
"Wait, what? They're actually testing for second talent?"
"Yeah. And if you pass…"
"You get bound? Like, forever?"
"A lifetime contract. No way out."
"Who in their right mind would sign that?"
"Apparently, if you want to walk that path, you have to."
—
Nearby, a group of young disciples argued fiercely.
"Sounds like a trap."
"No kidding. They want geniuses to swear loyalty before they even start."
"So if you don't have the second talent, you're wasting your time—and risking everything."
"That's brutal. It's like forcing someone into a cage."
—
In a sect training yard, a grizzled elder shook his head, speaking to his juniors.
"This isn't just about power. It's control. Binding the strongest to them."
"You think the Pavilion wants to own all second talents?" a young cultivator asked, voice low.
"Exactly. If they catch you with second talent, you're theirs."
"But if you refuse?"
The elder's eyes darkened. "You lose everything. Maybe your life."
—
On a market street, a merchant whispered to his friend.
"So you're telling me this test isn't just a test."
"It's a contract."
"They trap you."
"Yep. And once you're bound, you owe them loyalty. Forever."
"That's madness."
"Only for those who don't want to be slaves."
—
In a dim tavern corner, a rogue laughed bitterly.
"Binding contracts, eternal loyalty…"
"That's the price for second talent."
"Some prize, huh?"
"Yeah, your freedom."
—
The conversations spiraled everywhere:
"Imagine being forced to swear your life away just because you have an advantage."
"Why would anyone choose that?"
"They don't get a choice. It's either bind or lose it all."
"And if you fail the test?"
"Then you're nothing. Worse than nothing."
—
The Verge Territory wasn't just shaken.
It was terrified.
The Moonlit Pavilion's upcoming test wasn't just a chance for glory.
It was a trap disguised as opportunity.
And the whole territory was left asking one question, whispered everywhere:
Who would be brave enough to take that test?