Origin Court: Accepting Disciples With A System

A SWORD FLEW from a grim place that screamed terror. On the sword was a young man with a face as dark as the bottom of a used pot. His calm demeanor showed dominance, as though whoever would try to oppose him would immediately perish under his sharp gaze.

Alongside him was a man whose beard sat rudely across his chin. They had the same skin tone, dark and charismatic. With his hands clasped on his back, the man stared at the horizon as he talked, "Lao'er, we're now going to a meeting for the upcoming Festival of Races. I am bringing you because I want to tell them that my son is none other than the strongest among his peers. Do not shame your father."

The young man's eyes showed resolution as his eyes narrowed, "Understood."

With a faint smile on their faces, they coursed through the wind and eventually reached their destination. As their feet touched the bailey of the enormous palace that stood erect in the middle of a life-filled forest, they scanned the area and found that no one bothered to welcome their presence.

Such a setup made the man grin.

It otherwise infuriated the young man, however. "Father, why are they not here to welcome us?"

"It seems like they're really hostile against us, huh?" the man surmised. "After all, not long ago, the Dragon Race disappeared from the face of the earth, and we, the Echinemon Race, were the sole reason for that race's demise."

Zhao Dilao zipped his mouth shut, unable to retort. Later on, he grinned like his father. After all, they earned hostility from the other races. However, it showed their dominance amongst all the other races. It satisfied him and made him want to destroy more.

"We lost a lot of elders in the True God Realm in Da Shenghou. However, until now, we haven't found the culprit who did the deed. There should be no one who could do it. After all, Da Shenghou is very weak," his father said as they walked toward the entrance of the palace.

Zhao Dilao's face turned sour. He knew what his father meant. The act he did without his father's permission had cost the lives of many of their elders at the True God Realm. Although they were strong, they could not just waste resources like that.

To them, the more men, the more powerful their party would be; the more powerful their cultivation levels were, the more authoritative they would become. With those elders gone, the echinemon race had become significantly weaker than before.

Therefore, he didn't reply. Although his father doted on him, he knew that this time, both his actions and the consequences thereof were all due to him.

"Let's go directly to their Spirit Hall," his father said as they paced forward.

This palace was owned by the Spirit Race which was the most peaceful of all the others. However, at this time, even the Spirit Race had formed a grudge against the Echinemon Race.

Pushing the large door in front of them, the man's grin grew wider as he stared at the wolving eyes of the other races within the hall.

There were originally a total of six seats for six races. At this time, however, only five of the races remained. When the man saw this seat patterned with dragon-like patterns, he signaled to his son, Zhao Dilao, to take his seat there.

This even angered the other races.

"Zhao Fenhua! How bold are you to make this despicable-faced echinemon sit on the Dragon Race's head seat!" a man from the Turtle-Shell Race screamed as he pointed at Zhao Dilao crazily. "Don't think that just because your cultivation level has reached a half-step away from becoming a Saint, you can already become arrogant!"

Zhao Fenhua looked at the man with a hard shell on his back and just laughed it off. "You are very funny! Your face bounces when you speak while being angry, fatty!"

"Shut up!" the man said as his aura began to surge out of his body.

"Enough," the Spirit Race Queen said, her voice reverberating with the rules of life that stunned all of them. Although it wasn't loud, it kept their lips tightly zipped.

Seeing this, Zhao Fenhua's face turned grim. This woman… actually had such a formidable cultivation.

'So, the rumor is true?'

He'd heard it before. Among all the six races, the most mysterious one was the Spirit Race. Until that moment, all they knew was that the Spirit Race had a strange origin, but no one actually knew where they came from.

Unlike the Earthworm Race, the Turtle-Shell Race, or the Lion Race, it was said that the Spirit Race was conceived by heaven and earth. They also never knew why, after several years, their ancestors always told them never to offend the Spirit Race.

The Spirit Race Queen had pointed ears, while her eyes were slick and slightly narrow. Her pale skin would give the impression that she was a living corpse. If Yang Lujia were to be here, he would definitely scrutinize this woman very much and would think she had anemia. Nevertheless, it complimented her entire appearance.

To men like Xiao Yue, she would be hailed as a goddess in their hearts.

As she noticed that this group of men had calmed down, she exhaled one breath as words started to come out of her mouth. "I sent the invitation to organize this meeting. In order to enter the Valley of Gods, only ten out of millions of participants would be chosen to have the chance to enter the Valley. During the Festival of Races, I want you all to send your top five best disciples of your race to compete with others, so higher your qualifications in acquiring them."

Zhao Fenhua's one brow jerked up. "Why only five?"

The Spirit Race Queen glanced at him, craning her neck. "Five disciples are enough. If you want more, you're gonna have to beat me."

WHISH!

A whistling sound shushed the entire area into silence. A sword brimming with intent to kill hovered in the air as it was quickly aimed at the Spirit Race Queen.

Standing from her seat, she performed hand signs, and sooner, words that were incomprehensible and unreadable to everyone in the room began to form. This was the technique of the Spirit Race, creating characters in the air, and using them as a means to battle. The more powerful their cultivation was, the more powerful their techniques would be.

She was the Spirit Race Queen, so she easily blocked the sword thrown by Zhao Fenhua. Staring at him coldly, she released the pressure that no one expected her to have.

"A Saint?!"