A day had passed since Mo Han first stepped into the Eternal Night Mansion. The sect was already beginning to stir like a restless ocean at the arrival of the new disciple. His aura, his looks, his composure—it was as if a rock had been thrown into a placid lake, ripples spreading through every corner of the sect.

Whispers spread in dorms, gardens, and training fields.

"Did you see him? That's the boy Elder Mei took in directly."

"They say she even gave him a stone house in her private garden."

"Impossible… no one gets such treatment unless they are bedded disciples. But that one? He ignores everyone!"

"He's like a lotus leaf… no matter how much water falls, not a single-drop stays. Cold as ice, yet everyone wants to touch him."

Even the elders' disciples, proud daughters of noble clans and cultivated beauties raised to entice, began to feel restless.

By the second-day, a group of them—three women clad in silken robes of crimson and blue—made their way toward Elder Mei's residence. The fragrance of exotic-perfumes wafted around them, their jewelry clinking softly as they knelt before her.

Inside her fragrant courtyard, Elder Mei reclined on a seat of carved jade, her face hidden partially by a delicate silver veil. She sipped lightly on a cup of spirit wine, her calm eyes watching them with a trace of amusement.

One of the women, bold and impatient, broke the silence first. "Honored Master Mei, we beg for your permission. Please… allow us to dual cultivate with the new disciple, Mo Han."

The other two quickly bowed deeper, their voices urgent and tinged with desire.

"Yes, Elder Mei. His face, his bearing… he is unlike any other man we've seen. Even though he arrived yesterday, we are unable to focus on our training. His presence itself is distracting."

"Master, he is blessed with a body beyond measure. It will be a waste if he ignores us. Please, allow us to be his partners. We will serve you better with him."

The courtyard fell silent. Only the rustling of lotus leaves in the pond filled the air. Elder Mei slowly set her cup down, her fingers tapping lightly against the jade table.

Finally, she laughed softly, the sound both enchanting and chilling. "You three… disciples of my own teaching, begging me like common girls for a man?"

They froze, heads pressed lower, trembling.

Elder Mei's laughter faded into a cold smile. "Listen carefully. If you desire him, then go on your own. Seduce him with your own charm, win him with your own sincerity. Do you think I will command a man like Mo Han to lie with you? Do you think I will drag him by the neck and tie him to your bed?"

The boldest of the three lifted her head slightly, her cheeks flushed. "But Master… he is different. He ignores us. He ignores everyone. Yesterday, we circled him in the garden—he did not even look at us once! Not even once! He… he walked as though we were air."

Elder Mei's eyes narrowed, a strange glint flashing through her gaze. "Yes. That is exactly why I chose him. A man who does not drown in pleasure at the first wave of temptation… such a man has the potential to wield pleasure itself as a blade."

The second disciple bit her lip, her voice soft. "Then… you won't forbid us?"

Mei shook her head. "No. Chase him, tempt him, test him. But understand this—I have already given him a task that even you would not dare dream of. If he fails, he will be crushed by the weight of the sect. If he succeeds… he will stand higher than any of you. Do you understand why I won't bind him with petty conditions?"

The three disciples exchanged uneasy looks. Their desire hadn't diminished, but the thought of Elder Mei's impossible task stirred both curiosity and fear.

The first disciple dared to ask, "Master… what task?"

Mei leaned back, lifting her cup again. The silver veil shimmered as she sipped. Her answer was soft, but it fell like thunder into their ears. "The Tournament of Rising Elders. In three months, Mo Han must claim victory among cultivators far above his current rank. Only then will he truly become my disciple."

The women gasped.

"That… that is madness!"

"He is only a seventh-class disciple! How can he stand among elder rank cultivators?"

"Master, why would you…?"

Elder Mei's lips curved into a cold smile. "Why? Because only through the impossible do men prove their worth. If he dies, it proves he was not worth my time. If he wins…"

She let the words trail off. A silence settled, heavy and suffocating.

One of the disciples whispered, almost in awe, "Then… you truly believe he might win?"

Mei's eyes flashed, unreadable. "That is for him to decide. Not you. Now go—if you want him, then chase him like a storm chases fire. But remember… if you fail to move him, do not return to me weeping."

The three disciples bowed deeply, hearts trembling, and left.

-

Early morning…

Inside the largest stone house, Fatty Lambu crouched near the window like a frightened rabbit, his round face pressed against the wooden frame as his small eyes darted outside nervously. His plump fingers gripped the sill so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Mo Han, who had just finished washing his face with cold spring water, glanced at him with a frown. "What are you doing now, Lambu? You've been peeking out that window since the rooster crowed."

Lambu swallowed hard, beads of sweat rolling down his round cheeks. He didn't even look away as he whispered, "Brother Han… I swear, this is worse than ghosts haunting us. So many women, Brother Han! They come near the courtyard, circle around, pretend to be just walking… and then stop to stare at our stone house."

Mo Han raised a brow, his tone calm. "And why does that trouble you?"