Pillborn Immortal

The sun had just risen, but Zhuan Ming was already up, preparing for the inner disciple entrance exam. He washed up, ate breakfast, and stretched. Feeling ready, he headed toward the main area of the sect.

A line had already formed near the gates, which were flanked by tall wooden walls. The air buzzed with anticipation, and the murmurs of disciples filled the space. Zhuan Ming took his place at the end of the line, his heart steady. He recalled how much he had stressed over the entrance exam in his past life.

"Times have changed," Zhuan Ming murmured.

He glanced around, noting the faces of his competitors—some calm and collected, others fidgeting nervously. A few wore robes embroidered with the symbols of powerful families. Zhuan Ming knew that a cultivator's worth wasn't determined by material possessions but by skill.

As the line slowly moved forward, Zhuan Ming overheard snippets of conversation.

"Look at that goofy kid's robes," one disciple whispered.

"Pfft!" another laughed.

In Zhuan Ming's mind, the Qi Pill Ancestor scoffed. "See? I told you the robes weren't a good idea."

Zhuan Ming retorted, "Kids these days have no style."

The line continued moving until finally, he reached the front. An elder with a long, flowing beard and piercing eyes stood before a stone platform. He held a jade tablet in his hand, which glowed faintly as he scanned each disciple.

When it was Zhuan Ming's turn, the elder looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on the faint scars on Zhuan Ming's hands—evidence of countless hours of training.

"Name?" the elder asked, his voice deep and resonant.

"Zhuan Ming," he replied, bowing respectfully.

The elder nodded and tapped the jade tablet. A soft chime sounded, and Zhuan Ming's name appeared in glowing characters above the platform.

"Step onto the platform," the elder instructed. "The first trial begins now."

Zhuan Ming took a deep breath and stepped onto the large stone platform. The moment he set foot on it, a reaction occurred—an arrow shot toward the exact spot where he landed. He quickly dodged, shifting to another part of the platform.

Five seconds passed, and another attack came—this time, a burst of fire from a rank 1 talisman. He rolled to the side, evading it while conserving energy.

It didn't take long for Zhuan Ming to grasp the purpose of this trial—it was a test of endurance.

Countless series of attacks were being launched at him: arrows, fire, bursts of wind, and even small earth spikes erupting from the surface. Zhuan Ming dodged each one with calculated precision, but he made sure his movements appeared slightly clumsy, as if he were barely keeping up. He let out a few exaggerated breaths, feigning exhaustion, though his mind remained sharp and focused.

The elders overseeing the trial murmured among themselves.

"He's not bad, but he's clearly reaching his limit," one commented.

"Yeah, he won't last much longer," another added.

Zhuan Ming smirked inwardly. This was exactly the impression he wanted to give. There was no need to stand out as a prodigy—not yet. For now, blending in and conserving his true strength was the smarter move.

The trial continued, with the attacks growing more frequent. A barrage of ice shards shot toward him. Zhuan Ming pretended to stumble, allowing one to graze his arm. He winced dramatically, clutching the wound as if it were serious.

An assistant turned to the elder. "Should we stop the trial for him?"

The elder shook his head. "Let him continue. He hasn't fallen yet."

Zhuan Ming gritted his teeth, playing up the act. He dodged the next few attacks with exaggerated effort, his movements growing slower and more labored. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the attacks ceased.

The elder stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"Trial complete," he announced. "Zhuan Ming, you've passed."