The sky was a clear, brilliant blue, without a single cloud.
Maple Leaf City bustled with streams of people, alive with extraordinary energy.
Six years had passed since the birth of Hong Ting, the city lord's son.
In those six years, Maple Leaf City had suffered no disasters or calamities, enjoying favorable weather and timely rains. It had expanded continuously, now more than ten times its former size — the foremost human stronghold on the entire plain.
Chirp chirp chirp chirp…
A flock of spirit birds appeared from somewhere, their bodies shimmering with golden light, flying in a great swarm.
They possessed extraordinary spiritual awareness. The moment they reached the skies above the city lord's manor, they suddenly burst apart with a series of pops, scattering into motes of golden light that rained down below.
Within the city lord's manor, Hong Ting was brandishing a small treasure sword, darting through the rockery garden as he practiced his sword forms.
For a moment, Hong Ting's figure was nowhere to be seen. Only clusters of sword light flashed like brilliant silver in every direction.
"Excellent!"
"Incredible!"
"The young master truly possesses peerless aptitude. He's only been learning this sword art for three months and has already achieved complete mastery — the gravity and grandeur of his forms are simply unimaginable."
The surrounding guards praised him one after another, every word from the bottom of their hearts.
City Lord Hong Zhu stroked his beard and nodded with a smile. He was filled with pride for his son. As for any sense of shock — that had long since faded.
Over the years, Hong Ting's aptitude and performance had repeatedly shattered the limits of what Hong Zhu thought possible, making him realize just how shallow his previous understanding of the word "genius" had been.
He had been shocked so many times that Hong Zhu had grown numb years ago, and in the years since, what once astonished him had become simply… expected.
Clang!
Just then, a sharp sound rang out.
The silver sword light vanished abruptly, and Hong Ting's figure reappeared. With his small treasure sword in hand, he cleaved a corner clean off a rock.
Instantly, cheers and praise rang out without end.
"Father, I can't help but feel this sword art still has room for improvement — there's much more potential to explore."
Hong Ting's lips were red and his teeth white, his eyes bright as stars. He stepped out of the rockery, a smile playing across his brow.
Hong Zhu laughed heartily: "This sword art is a secret manual from the renowned sword cultivator Grandmaster Zhao Sansi — your father used a rare treasure to trade for it. You've only practiced it for three months and you're already looking down on it?"
Hong Ting blinked, a touch of adorable cunning flashing in his eyes: "Father, I'm only saying what I genuinely feel. To be honest, this sword art is just… like that. After three months of practice, I've already grasped its entire essence."
Hong Zhu grunted and felt a familiar headache setting in again. His son's aptitude was simply too high — he learned everything quickly, and once he started, he pushed all the way to the core, grasping the deepest spirit of any art. This was a blessing, but also a curse. Years ago, Hong Zhu had already been completely drained of what he could teach. He had gone to extraordinary lengths to seek out secret manuals from others to instruct his son, but nothing could keep up with Hong Ting's black-hole-like appetite for learning.
If this continued, what would he do?
Just then, a flock of spirit birds flew overhead and suddenly self-destructed into golden points of light.
The points of light rained down and quickly merged into the minds of everyone present, though the vast majority were absorbed by Hong Ting alone.
Suddenly, expressions of great joy appeared on everyone's faces as they each received teachings, mastering all manner of strange and wondrous secret manuals.
"The Immortals are bestowing their arts again!"
"I wonder which Immortal did this?"
"We have the young master to thank — it's all because of his blessing."
The guards gazed at Hong Ting with fervent devotion. Even Hong Zhu's eyes held a trace of something complicated.
Hong Ting kept his eyes closed, fully immersed in the rich flood of newly added knowledge.
Hong Zhu and the others had long grown accustomed to it. Even the citizens outside the manor merely showed a brief moment of surprise before returning to their normal lives, each busy with their own affairs.
Miraculous phenomena and Immortal signs were fascinating to behold, but when such things happened often enough, they became ordinary.
The Immortal miracles surrounding Hong Ting could no longer simply be described as frequent — they had flooded to the point of excess, occurring so often that people had grown numb.
Ever since his birth, when Elder Long had taken him as a disciple, Immortal signs had appeared around him constantly.
Elder Long was the leader of the Heavenly Court. Setting aside the Eighth Transformation Gu Immortals within the Court itself, even the ten great ancient sects of the Central Continent that served as its subordinate factions were each colossal powers in their own right — regional overlords with profound and deep foundations.
Elder Long had taken his disciple openly and with great fanfare, making no effort to conceal his intentions. Everyone understood what he meant, and so whether it was the Righteous Path, the Demonic Path, or Independent Immortals of the Central Continent, all were paying close attention to Hong Ting's growth.
That Hong Ting was a seed of fortune, destined to be cultivated by the Heavenly Court into a future Venerable, was no longer any kind of secret. And so, from time to time, Gu Immortals or their descendants would make their move, secretly aiding Hong Ting — building good karma and making their acquaintance known.