In the grand realm of Da Kun, where Elder Zhong resided, nations flourished far and wide. The valley now thronged with a multitude of unfamiliar faces, their origins as diverse as the lands themselves.
Nestled in the heart of a vast gorge lay a sprawling open arena, its diameter stretching over a thousand meters—a colossus that evoked the image of an ancient, monumental coliseum. The valley floor, wide and pristine, stood in stark contrast to the jagged stones lining its periphery. Sheer cliff walls towered above, encircling the arena like sentinels carved from stone, each adorned with numerous terraces.
At a height of one hundred meters, fifty lower terraces formed a ring, each capable of accommodating fifty people. Rising higher, at two hundred meters, loomed eight upper terraces, grand and imposing, strategically arrayed in eight cardinal directions.
The lower terraces hosted figures of refined demeanor, their flowing robes billowing in the wind. Some bore swords, others carried blades—a spectacle of elegance and mystery. Below, on the vast ground, stood nearly three thousand participants, scattered across the edges of the valley floor. Among them, Elder Zhong arrived with his eight foster sons, settling in an unassuming corner.
The eldest, Zhong Tian, dragged over a massive stone, positioning it as a makeshift seat for Elder Zhong. As the old man settled down, he surveyed his seven foster sons, each a warrior at the peak of the mortal realm.
"This is Dragon Gate Valley," Elder Zhong began, his voice steady. "Those terraces above are reserved for disciples of the celestial sects. The lower terraces are for minor sects and wandering cultivators, while the upper terraces belong to the Five Supreme Sects. Not all might attend, but those who do come for one purpose: to select disciples."
As his words sank in, the foster sons gazed at the lower terraces with excitement. Were these the legendary celestial sect disciples?
"Foster father, what distinguishes the Supreme Sects from the lesser ones?" Zhong Nineteen asked curiously.
Elder Zhong chuckled. "The distinction is merely one of status. A sect's power defines its rank—a reflection of their pride and dominance."
His gaze sharpened as he gestured toward the gathered crowd below. "Tell me, in the eyes of these celestial sects, what do you think these people represent?"
The foster sons exchanged bewildered glances and shook their heads.
"Cattle," Elder Zhong declared coldly, his eyes narrowing.
"Cattle?" They frowned, astonished.
"Indeed. To these sects, we mortals are nothing but livestock—a pool from which they select their chosen few. To them, we are primitive, unworthy, akin to savages you wouldn't dine or converse with. They see themselves as superior beings, constantly evolving, while we linger at the bottom. Those chosen today are but fortunate exceptions."
The foster sons fell into a heavy silence.
Time passed, and the valley stirred with anticipation. From the horizon, streaks of sword light began to descend, celestial disciples arriving in droves. Some stood atop flying swords, others maneuvered mystical treasures. Monks and nuns also descended, their presence adding to the solemnity of the assembly.
"Once the assembly begins, those unchosen will face bloodshed. Combat and slaughter are a spectacle for these celestial disciples. Over three thousand will enter, but fewer than two hundred will leave alive. If you lack the resolve, leave now," Elder Zhong warned.
The foster sons exchanged determined glances. "We won't back down, foster father," they replied in unison.
Elder Zhong nodded. "Very well."
The terraces quickly filled—fifty lower terraces bustling with activity, while the upper terraces hosted the arrivals of various powers, their grandeur unmistakable. Among them, a group of figures in resplendent white robes exuded an air of indifference, surveying the valley below with cold detachment.
Moments later, a woman in flowing purple robes descended upon an empty upper terrace. She needed no sword or treasure to hold her aloft, gliding as though the heavens themselves cradled her. Her beauty was unparalleled, her features so exquisite that words failed to capture her essence. The crowd watched, breathless, as her delicate, bare feet touched the terrace. Yet her icy demeanor and emotionless gaze cast a chilling veil over her ethereal allure.
Even the celestial disciples on the upper terraces, upon seeing her face, averted their eyes, shuddering visibly.
At last, with all five Supreme Sects present, the Dragon Gate Assembly officially began.
From a lower terrace, an elder with a flowing white beard addressed the assembly. His voice carried across the valley like rolling thunder. "Those under sixty who have reached the Innate Realm, and those at the peak of the Acquired Realm under fifty, step into the center."
The crowd buzzed with excitement as participants surged forward, driven by ambition and desperation.
The blood-soaked spectacle that followed would forever etch itself into the memories of those present.
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