The Sword Shandian sect elders exchanged brief glances before one of them—a tall man with long white hair tied in a silver clasp—took a step forward. His voice carried a calm yet sharp tone that sliced through the murmuring air of the courtyard.

"Han Zukong," he said, his hand slowly lifting. "Step forward once more."

The entire Han Family hall grew silent. The servants froze where they stood. Even the sound of the wind rustling through the hanging red banners seemed to fade.

Han Zukong looked surprised but quickly regained his composure, stepping forward with his usual proud gait.

The moment his foot landed before the Sword Shandian elders, the ground itself trembled slightly, as if reacting to the aura gathering around him.

Then, with one synchronized movement, the Sword Shandian disciples surrounding him unsheathed their swords.

Shing! Shing! Shing!

The air was filled with a metallic symphony as over a dozen swords glinted in the sunlight.

They struck their blades into the ground in a perfect circle around Han Zukong, the sound echoing like a ritual drumbeat.

Spiritual circles began forming beneath each sword, glowing with faint golden lines that crawled along the ground like living veins of light.

Han Zhanjian's eyes widened. "What... what kind of formation is that?" he whispered under his breath. His heart thudded fast. He could feel something ancient stirring in the air, like a sleeping beast being roused from a long slumber.

The disciples began murmuring strange chants.

Each of them spoke in unison, low and rhythmic.

Their lips moved swiftly as they chanted incantations that vibrated with spiritual resonance.

The sound reverberated in the bones of everyone watching. It was like hearing thunder trapped beneath the earth, like waves pounding against a cliff.

Han Zukong stood in the center, eyes closed, his expression calm but proud. His robes fluttered even without wind.

The lights from the swords spread outward in patterns, forming an intricate mandala across the entire courtyard. Lines of light crisscrossed and overlapped, creating a glowing lattice that expanded with every passing second.

The glow became brighter and brighter until the air shimmered, distorting vision.

Soon, the entire area was flooded with light.

"Cover your eyes!" someone shouted among the servants.

The Han Family disciples lifted their arms, shielding themselves. A few gasped as the light grew blinding, white and pure like sunlight reflected on a thousand mirrors. Even Han Cui, the patriarch, squinted and raised his arm slightly to guard his vision.

The courtyard was like a miniature sun, pulsing with divine brilliance. The banners overhead swayed violently. Dust spiraled from the cracks in the stone floor.

"Argh! I can't see!" a servant cried, stumbling backward.

"Shut up! Don't move!" barked one of the elders, though even he was blinking furiously, his face pale from the intensity.

Han Zhanjian clenched his fists as he forced himself to watch, eyes watering. "What are they testing?" he muttered. "What kind of light is this? Elder Brother... what have they found in you?"

When the glow finally began to fade, people lowered their arms one by one. The brightness dimmed into a soft aura that hovered around the circle of swords. The chanting stopped abruptly, leaving behind an almost eerie silence.

The Sword Shandian elders remained motionless. Their eyes were closed, their expressions unreadable.

The entire Han courtyard waited. Seconds felt like minutes. No one dared to move.

The servants exchanged glances, whispering nervously.

"Did it succeed?" one asked.

"Maybe he passed the test?" another murmured.

"No, no, look at them. Why aren't they saying anything?"

Even Han Cui's brows furrowed. He turned slightly toward his son Han Zhanjian, who stood stiffly beside him, eyes locked on Han Zukong's figure.

"What are they doing?" Han Cui whispered.

"I don't know, Father," Han Zhanjian replied, voice tight. "They're... analyzing something. But they've been too quiet."

The quiet stretched on until the tension became unbearable. A drop of sweat rolled down Han Zhanjian's cheek. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribs.

Finally, one of the Sword Shandian elders opened his eyes. The old man's pupils were faintly silver, glowing like two moonlit pools. He took in Han Zukong's figure with a long, thoughtful gaze.

The rest of the elders slowly followed. One by one, they opened their eyes. Some frowned slightly, others remained expressionless.

The crowd of Han Family members leaned forward collectively, desperate to catch even a single hint of their reaction.

"Well?" whispered one of the Han elders, his voice trembling. "Did the young master awaken something?"

"Perhaps... perhaps he has the Special Eyes," another murmured hopefully.

The silence broke when one of the Sword Shandian elders exhaled and shook his head. The sound of that small gesture was like thunder to the crowd.

A wave of confusion spread across the courtyard. Murmurs erupted again, louder this time, overlapping in disbelief.

"What? He doesn't have it?"

"Impossible, he's already a high-class talent!"

"But if not, then why all that light?"

The Sword Shandian elders began murmuring among themselves in low tones, voices filled with restrained calm. Han Zhanjian tried to read their lips, but the only thing he caught was the faint phrase—"not awakened."

Finally, the elder with silver hair turned to Han Cui and clasped his hands behind his back. His tone was neither cold nor warm, but it carried an effortless weight that made everyone instinctively quiet.

"Patriarch Han," he said softly, "we thank you for your hospitality."

His voice was filled with ethereal grace, the kind that neither condescended nor flattered. It was like listening to someone who lived between heavens and mortals, beyond worldly concerns.

He continued, "Your son Han Zukong has remarkable talent. His spirit root is refined, and his foundation is promising. The heavens themselves smile upon him. Although he does not possess the eyes we sought, his growth potential remains vast."

Han Cui bowed deeply. "The Han Family is honored to receive such praise. We are grateful for your time and guidance."

The Sword Shandian elders inclined their heads slightly.

"It is fortune that we have met a family whose bloodline still carries the spark of greatness," another elder said. "Cherish that flame, Patriarch Han. It may yet burn brighter than you expect."

Han Cui smiled humbly, though sweat glistened at the edge of his temple. Around him, the elders of the Han Family followed his lead, bowing deeply.

"Thank you, honored elders," Han Cui said with sincerity. "The Han Family will never forget your visit."

For a moment, silence lingered again, only the faint hum of the spiritual circles fading into the earth. Then one of the Sword Shandian elders, the youngest among them, looked up toward the sky.

"We have stayed long enough," he said gently. "It is time we return. The sect awaits our report."

They turned slightly, their robes flowing like clouds as they prepared to depart.

Han Cui hesitated, then took a step forward. "Honored elders," he said suddenly, his voice respectful but edged with urgency.

The Sword Shandian elders paused and turned their heads.

Han Cui straightened his back and continued, "You've already inspected my second son, Han Zukong. But what about the other one?"

The courtyard stilled.

Every Han Family member turned their gaze toward Han Zhanjian.

Han Cui's voice grew firmer. "The one you came here for. My youngest. Han Zhanjian."

The air seemed to freeze for a brief heartbeat, and then, every eye fell upon him.

Han Zhanjian's chest tightened. His palms felt clammy. The weight of a hundred gazes pressed down on him, from his father's expectant stare to the sharp curiosity of the Sword Shandian elders.

And as the silence deepened, Han Zhanjian swallowed hard, knowing this was it—his turn under the heavens' gaze.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.