[Chapter 11]
The brilliance faded slowly, like the last glimmer of a dying star, and Castiel found himself kneeling in a wide stone courtyard. The surface beneath his palms was smooth yet ancient, carved with sigils and runes he could not yet understand. Above him stretched a wide-open sky painted in rich sapphire, with clouds drifting lazily across a sun that shone far brighter than Earth's. The air smelled of spirit herbs and steel—calm, yet dangerous.
But he wasn't alone.
A crowd had gathered at the edges of the courtyard. Hundreds—maybe thousands—of robed figures, students, masters, and sect elders stood silently, gazes fixed on the center where Castiel had appeared. They watched with a mix of curiosity, judgment, and wariness.
To them, he had just been spat out of a collapsing spatial rift—something that happened only under extraordinary circumstances.
And extraordinary events drew powerful eyes.
A tall elder stepped forward. His robes were silver-trimmed with golden runes, and his face was creased not just with age, but with battle. His eyes burned with spiritual fire as he studied Castiel closely, yet said nothing. He simply raised his hand, and another figure stepped forward—this one younger, mid-thirties perhaps, with a neatly kept beard and long crimson robes.
"Name," the man demanded, voice echoing unnaturally throughout the entire courtyard.
Castiel stood up slowly. "Castiel."
A hush fell.
The crimson-robed man furrowed his brows. "No surname?"
"Not in this world," Castiel replied.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
The elder raised an eyebrow but motioned for silence. "You emerged from the Phantom Rift. Few enter. Fewer return."
"I was… pulled in," Castiel said. "It wasn't a choice."
The elder narrowed his eyes. "That trial is not meant for the uninitiated."
Castiel didn't answer. He couldn't explain what even happened—how he was chosen, how the system guided him, how he survived.
The crowd's whispers grew louder. Words like Demon Sect spy, imposter cultivator, and rogue talent drifted through the air.
"Enough," the crimson-robed man declared. "Whether accident or design, he has returned from a soul-based realm. That alone warrants inquiry."
The elder nodded. "You will be brought before the Grand Council of Azure Dragon Sect. Until then, you are to be placed under provisional watch."
Two disciples stepped forward—one male, lean and sharp-eyed, and one female, with short-cropped hair and a glacial expression. They bowed to the elder and approached Castiel.
"Follow us," the woman said curtly. "Don't speak unless spoken to."
Castiel raised a brow. "Friendly bunch, huh?"
The man ignored the sarcasm and started walking.
As they led him through the towering halls and suspended bridges of the sect's upper domains, Castiel noticed the grandeur of Azure Dragon Sect for the first time. Floating pavilions hovered in the air, chained to the cliffs by glowing spirit iron. Waterfalls flowed from impossible heights, and disciples flew through the air on swords, leaving spiritual trails behind them. The Qi here was thick—dense enough that every breath felt like drinking power.
They arrived at a simple stone building nestled at the edge of a cliff. It looked modest compared to the other structures, but the moment Castiel stepped inside, he realized it was anything but.
Arrays.
Dozens of spiritual arrays wove through the walls—some for protection, others for suppression, surveillance, even soul scanning. It was a prison disguised as a house.
"Stay here," the woman said. "You'll be summoned when the elders are ready."
She threw him a small satchel. Inside were two energy-restoring pills and a dried spirit bread. Bare essentials.
"Thanks," Castiel muttered. "Didn't even get a welcome drink."
The door shut behind them, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, Castiel was alone. The room was bare—just a wooden mat, a small table, and a water basin. But it was quiet, and that was enough.
He sat cross-legged, letting his breath settle. Then, he reached inward.
"System," he whispered.
Ding!
[Welcome back, Castiel.]
[Temporary Trial Realm exited successfully.]
[Current Location: Azure Dragon Sect — Outer Layer Holding Quarters]
[Quest Progress: Main Quest "Rebuild the Path of Ascension" – 0.3% Completed]
[New Reward Claimed: System Storage Unlocked!]
[+1 Item: Soul Echo Crystal (Unknown Grade)]
His eyes widened at the last item.
"Soul Echo Crystal?"
[Description: A fragment of the Phantom Grasp realm. Said to contain echoes of those who failed. Usage unknown. Handle with caution.]
A sense of foreboding crept into his chest. He pulled the crystal out of the system inventory. It shimmered softly with violet light, almost like a living thing. He swore he could hear faint voices—pleading, screaming, whispering in languages long dead.
He quickly stashed it back.
"I'll figure you out later," he muttered.
A knock echoed through the door—not loud, but precise.
"Enter," he called.
The door creaked open, and to his surprise, a girl no older than fifteen stepped in. She had large curious eyes, long black hair tied in twin braids, and robes far too big for her small frame.
"You're the guy who came from the Rift Star?" she asked innocently.
Castiel blinked. "Yeah. That's me."
She smiled shyly. "You're strange. But I like strange."
He chuckled. "Thanks… I guess?"
"I'm Ling Xian. I'm a Sect Servant… for now."
"Castiel," he replied. "Student… maybe."
She laughed. "They said I'm supposed to bring you dinner. Don't worry, I didn't poison it."
She placed a tray down, then turned toward the door. "The elders will probably summon you tomorrow. They don't like being rushed."
"Thanks, Ling Xian."
"Mm!" she smiled, then slipped away as quietly as she came.
Castiel looked at the tray: simple rice, vegetables, and a thin spirit broth.
He ate slowly, reflecting on how far he'd come.
A trial that shattered his soul. A system with infinite potential. A world that already saw him as an anomaly.
And tomorrow, he'd face judgment from cultivators who'd lived for centuries.
He sighed, leaning back against the cold stone wall.
Whatever happens next… he'd be ready..
-----------------------------------------
The courtyard that had once been filled with fierce clashing and searing flames was now eerily quiet. Dozens of eyes watched as the wind carried away the lingering smoke from Castiel's Spiritflame Dragon Fang technique.
But he was not basking in the attention.
Castiel's fingers gently curled, hiding a subtle tremble caused by the rapid depletion of his inner Qi. His eyes, however, stayed sharp—scanning not just the defeated Li Jun, but the reactions of the onlookers, the movements of the elders above, and the trembling of the ground as if something else… something more ominous, was stirring.
"Status," he whispered mentally.
[Ding!] — New Technique Mastery Progression: Spiritflame Dragon Fang (Level 1 → Level 2) — Energy depleted: 47% remaining. — Combat Experience: +2,300 XP. — Li Jun Defeated: Minor Inner Sect Reputation Gained.
He kept the window open for a moment, committing it to memory—not for vanity, but for calculation. A player didn't boast over a single win. A player analyzed, adapted, and prepared for the next boss lurking in the shadows.
"Such a fierce move... and yet he's still standing straight after that output?" one of the elder disciples murmured under his breath.
Castiel didn't answer, nor even acknowledge the praise.
Instead, he knelt beside Li Jun—who was unconscious, still twitching from the lingering heat. Quietly, Castiel pulled a small jade pill from his sleeve. He hesitated—then placed it in Li Jun's mouth.
A subtle gasp rippled through the audience.
"Why save your opponent?" asked Elder Huo from above, his sharp voice edged with both curiosity and a touch of disapproval. "He would not have spared you."
Castiel stood slowly. "I didn't save him. I saved your sect's pride."
The crowd murmured again, louder this time.
Cautious... calm… controlled.
He wasn't trying to sound cool. He was being logical. A loose reputation built on mercy could be as useful as a strong arm in a sect driven by hierarchy and face. And Castiel, who had once played hundreds of RPGs where diplomacy and survival were often better tools than raw force, understood this deeply.
He didn't need to act invincible. He only needed to appear unpredictable.
The elders conferred silently above, voices muffled beneath a curtain of Qi.
After a long moment, Elder Mei floated down, her snow-white robes trailing like mist. Her gaze studied Castiel, but her expression remained unreadable.
"You will be granted entry into the Azure Dragon Sect as a Core Disciple, Castiel," she said at last.
More gasps.
"But know this—your strength alone won't shield you. Core Disciples are expected to carry not only skill, but responsibility. Do not think this sect is like your former domain."
Castiel bowed slightly, just enough to show respect but not subservience.
"I never do," he answered, his tone cool and respectful.
And like that, it was settled.
But not forgotten.
Because that night, as Castiel was guided to his quarters—a marble courtyard flanked by twin spirit trees and quiet stone lanterns—he noticed something strange.
A shadow.
No, not a person.
It was the absence of noise. The crickets near his room were silent. The breeze that touched his robes didn't rustle a single leaf.
His eyes narrowed.
"Someone placed a concealment array here..." he muttered, just low enough for no ears to catch.
He calmly walked into the courtyard, sat cross-legged, and activated a low-grade spiritual perception technique he had acquired during the system's early rewards.
[Ding! Passive Perception Skill Activated]
Fluctuation Detected: Yin Qi tracing... Minor Soul Binding Curse identified.
Source: Object placed within 15 meters.
His gaze slid toward a stone lantern near the back of the garden. Standing up slowly, he approached. Instead of kicking it over, he crouched… examined… and finally found a hair-thin rune carved behind the lantern's base.
With a faint tap of his index finger infused with Qi, the rune shattered—and the moment it did, a screech tore through the air, only heard in the soul.
[Alert: Soul Surveillance Curse Broken. Stealth Target alerted.]
Castiel's face didn't flinch.
Whoever it was, they now knew that he knew.
And instead of chasing it recklessly, he returned to his room.
He needed to prepare. Think. Plan.
In games, rushing into the unknown got you killed early. The smarter players always triggered the trap then traced the source later—with better gear, with a support party, or in this case, with more information.
It was the first time the cautious genius side of Castiel began to glow quietly beneath his otherwise bold exterior.
Let them watch. Let them think I'm just another outerworld genius with flashy moves.
That makes it easier when I move in the dark.
The next morning, Elder Mei's personal attendant arrived with a black scroll sealed with azure wax.
"The Grand Pavilion awaits you tonight," she said. "You've been invited to the Inner Sect's Moonlight Selection Trials."
Castiel raised a brow.
"Another test?"
"Not for entry," she said, almost with a smirk. "For survival."
As the girl left, Castiel stood still for a long moment.
He looked up at the distant sun.
"In another life," he whispered, "this would've been a high-difficulty dungeon unlocked after a unique event trigger."
His lips curved just slightly.
Let's see how many of them can survive my tutorial.