At these words from Xin Yijie, the expressions of the secular-world cultivators shifted in every direction. Some were eager to try their luck; others wore deep frowns. Ten and a half months to break through to the Foundation Establishment stage looked like no easy feat by any measure. Yet whatever else might be said, Xin Yijie's earlier remark had been true enough: this was a chance that came once in a thousand years.

"Very well. Next, this old man will take you all to a fine place. Stick close to your sect's senior brother in charge—once we arrive, they will pass on the elementary entry-level mantras to you, and you may put any doubts or questions to them as well. Let us be off." With that, Xin Yijie nodded to Wei Zhao and led the crowd to the rear hall, which was precisely where the teleportation formation of the Ancient Passage stood.

"The place you speak of—surely it is not in the Ancient Little Jianghu?" Wei Zhao asked, puzzled.

"You misunderstand, Grand-Uncle-Master. Though this formation is part of the Ancient Passage, what lies at the other end is not the Ancient Little Jianghu, but a most peculiar way station," Xin Yijie replied.

"Oh?" Wei Zhao's brows lifted slightly. That was unexpected.

"All right. Each sect's senior brother in charge will take responsibility—transport will proceed sect by sect, in batches. As for the spirit jade required for the passage, naturally each sect will bear its own. Begin," Xin Yijie said, turning back to the crowd.

In principle, this disciple selection assembly set no quota on the number of disciples each Ancient sect might take—but that did not mean the more the better. The more people teleported, the more spirit jade would naturally be consumed. A sect like Snow Sword, which had picked four quasi-disciples at a stroke, would burn ten pieces of spirit jade per passage counting senior brother Xue Jianfeng, their leader—no small sum at all.

So unless a sect was so rolling in wealth it had spirit jade to burn, every Ancient sect kept its selection standards high. Not only was compatibility of aptitude required, sufficient strength was demanded as well—otherwise, failing to break through to Foundation Establishment within ten and a half months, one would end up with nothing to show for it anyway. That thirty-three secular-world cultivators had survived the first round of selection was genuinely remarkable.

While queuing and waiting, Wei Zhao chatted idly with the secular cultivators. After all, many among these thirty-three were scions of sects and clans he knew well—the Ice Palace, the Snow Valley, the Dark Night Palace, and the like. Even if there was no particular bond of friendship, for the sake of those sects it was still worth Wei Zhao's while to offer a pointer or two.

Of course, not every secular sect was on good terms with Wei Zhao. Disciples of sects like the Five Luminaries Sect held complicated feelings toward him. They had once stood opposed, yet now, forced by circumstance, they had no choice but to bow their heads to Wei Zhao—otherwise he alone could strike their entire sect from the rolls.

And that was to say nothing of the fact that Wei Zhao was now unquestionably the leading figure among all the secular cultivation powers. To make an enemy of Wei Zhao was to make an enemy of every secular cultivation power—and possibly of the Ancient Alliance as well. One had only to remember that he was Xin Yijie's Grand-Uncle-Master. The very thought sent a chill down the spine.

Seeing Wei Zhao chatting so merrily with the disciples of the Ice Palace, the Snow Valley, and the like, the others could not help feeling a little awkward. They would have liked nothing better than to cling to so sturdy a leg, but what if Wei Zhao simply ignored them?

Yet when some of them screwed up their courage and edged closer, they found Wei Zhao showed not the slightest aversion. He passed on cultivation techniques and experience to the people of the Ice Palace and the Snow Valley without any deliberate attempt to keep the other secular cultivators at a distance. He treated sect and clan alike, whether or not they had once been foes; even the questions these people raised, he answered patiently.

Put plainly, this was a matter of level and perspective. Had this been Wei Zhao before he went to Cloud Terrace Island, he might still have harbored a touch of sectarian prejudice. But now, in Wei Zhao's eyes, the secular cultivation powers—the Five Luminaries Sect included—were no different from any other sect. For a formidable early Profound Ascension cultivator, comparable to a titan of the Mountain-Opening stage, to still brood over such old grudges would have been petty indeed.

As a result, nearly all thirty-three who had passed the first round of selection spontaneously gathered around Wei Zhao. The chance to hear a master's cultivation insights at such close range was rare indeed—especially when that master was a monster of Wei Zhao's madman caliber. A single casual word of guidance from him might equal ten years of bitter cultivation for the rest. Such an opportunity would not come twice.

The crowd listened with keen interest, and Wei Zhao held nothing back. So long as it did not touch upon his own secret trump cards, he answered every question. With his early Profound Ascension realm, his answers to Foundation Establishment questions were like a view from a high tower—penetrating straight to the heart of the matter.

Many a time, even Xin Yijie, standing nearby, clicked his tongue in wonder. He was a formidable early Golden Core cultivator, yet in breadth of knowledge and insight he fell far short of Wei Zhao. Though what Wei Zhao discussed was aimed chiefly at the Foundation Establishment stage, even Xin Yijie found himself reaping no small benefit from listening.

"Worthy of a Grand-Uncle-Master who has existed since the ancient era. Even if, being but a primordial spirit, his strength is only at the peak of Foundation Establishment, in depth of knowledge and foundation I doubt even the Supreme Elder could match him," Xin Yijie marveled inwardly. He had already been quite certain of Wei Zhao's identity; now he was utterly convinced. Many things could be feigned and faked, but such depth could never be faked.

While Xin Yijie marveled silently, the senior brothers in charge from the other Ancient sects were finding it rather hard to stomach. True, this was only the first round of selection, and the secular cultivators they had chosen counted merely as quasi-disciples—whether they would remain in the end was still unknown. But they were still their sect's people! If anyone was to be consulted, it should be them. What was the meaning of everyone flocking to Wei Zhao?

"Heh. Since President Lin is so eager to help others, why not simply teach our sects' entry-level mantras as well and be done with it?" Xue Jianfeng seized the moment to make trouble. The breath he had swallowed a moment ago still had not settled; even if he could not inflict any real loss on Wei Zhao, a few jeers to vent his spleen would do him good—and better still, sow discord.

At these words, the senior brothers in charge from the other sects indeed frowned one after another, and voices of discontent followed: "Uncle-Master Xin, this Wei Zhao is one of your North Island Cangwu Sect's people. To openly poach our sects' quasi-disciples—that hardly seems to accord with the rules, does it?"