Reincarnated with a lucky draw system

Chapter 523: RECRUITING DISCIPLES II

"Your talent is mediocre at best," Aaron interrupted, voice flat and bored. "And I don’t recruit thieves."

"Me? A thief?!" The man’s face flushed crimson with rage. "How dare you—"

Aaron didn’t bother listening to the rest. With a faint flick of his wrist, space twisted around the cultivator.

The man vanished mid-sentence, teleported to some random corner of the continent.

Whether he landed in a beast-infested forest, a poisonous swamp, or the middle of a rival sect’s territory, Aaron neither knew nor cared.

Lin Guo stared at the empty spot where the man had stood, then slowly shook his head and let out a long, helpless sigh.

" When has anything involving Aaron ever been normal?"

Four hours dragged by.

One applicant after another approached, proud young masters, wandering rogue cultivators, even a few promising-looking wanderers.

Every single one was rejected before they could fully introduce themselves. Aaron’s verdicts were swift, merciless, and utterly final.

"My lord," Lin Guo finally ventured, voice low and careful, "I don’t mean to offend you, but... I think we need to accept some disciples if we want to build the sect."

"I’m aware," Aaron replied without looking up from the horizon.

"But you keep rejecting everyone," Lin Guo thought, though he didn’t dare say it aloud.

"That doesn’t mean I should accept trash," Aaron continued, effortlessly reading the unspoken words in Lin Guo’s mind.

"Considering what I’m offering, supreme techniques, protection, resources, and a chance at true power, it’s only right that I demand quality in return."

"I see," Lin Guo murmured, bowing his head in acceptance.

A few minutes later, a small figure stumbled into view.

She was a young lady, likely in her late teens, thin and frail.

Bruises marred her arms and cheek, dark purple against pale skin.

Her clothes were little more than rags, torn, patched, and filthy.

Her hair hung in tangled strands, and her bare feet were calloused and bloodied from long travel.

Everything about her screamed hardship and desperation.

She stopped a respectful distance from the table, eyes downcast.

Aaron looked at her for a long moment.

"Do you want to apply to become a disciple?" he asked gently.

Lin Guo shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, she... she appears to be a slave. I don’t think we can—"

Aaron ignored him, his gaze fixed on the girl.

She lifted her head slowly. Their eyes met.

"Will I be protected if I become a disciple?" Her voice was weak, hoarse from thirst and exhaustion, but there was a quiet steel beneath it.

"You will receive more than protection," Aaron answered without hesitation.

"You will gain the strength to enact revenge on every enemy who ever laid a hand on you."

The girl’s bruised lips trembled. For the first time since she arrived, a faint spark flickered in her dull eyes, hope, fragile but real.

The girl stared up at Aaron for a long moment.

Something in his steady gaze, calm, unyielding, almost gentle, reassured her that his words carried real weight.

He wasn’t lying. He wasn’t mocking her. For the first time in years, she felt seen.

"Then... I wish to apply," she whispered, bowing her head low until her tangled hair brushed the ground.

"Congratulations," Aaron said simply. "You are now a disciple of the Splitting Heaven Sect."

Lin Guo, standing just a step behind, felt his jaw drop.

He stared at the scene in stunned silence, fingers twitching as though he wanted to yank every strand of hair from his own head.

All day long, Aaron had turned away confident cultivators, talented youths, proud young masters, people who looked the part of future powerhouses.

And now he accepted this bruised, ragged girl without even asking her name or background? The one person who screamed "trouble" from a mile away?

Lin Guo forced a slow breath through his nose.

"Let’s not be pessimistic," he told himself firmly.

"She’s just poor. No money, no backing. She won’t bring real trouble. It’s fine. One disciple is better than none."

But the universe, it seemed, had decided to prove him wrong immediately.

The distant thunder of hooves rolled across the valley floor.

A dozen armored riders crested the hill, their horses snorting steam into the cool air.

Expensive plate mail gleamed under the sun, gold-trimmed, engraved with the unmistakable imperial sigil of the reigning dynasty.

Every man carried himself with the arrogance of those who answered to no one but the throne.

"You can’t escape now, little rat," the lead rider called out, voice booming with authority.

"Surrender yourself freely, or you’ll endure far worse punishment than you already have."

The girl flinched violently.

Instinct drove her backward until she stood directly behind Aaron, small hands clutching the edge of his robe like a lifeline.

Only then did the captain’s sharp eyes shift from the girl to the two men standing beside her.

"You two," he barked, pointing a gauntleted finger.

"Hand her over. She is property of His Imperial Majesty. Obstructing imperial law is treason."

Lin Guo’s face drained of color. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. "I jinxed it."

He leaned toward Aaron, voice dropping to an urgent whisper.

"My lord... we haven’t even finished her official application process. Let’s just... let her go. Making enemies with the imperial family over one girl, it’s not worth it. Dealing with the imperial army would be a massive waste of time."

Aaron didn’t even glance at him.

"She has already applied," he replied evenly. "I don’t go back on my word. Besides..." His gaze flicked briefly toward the girl, then back to the riders.

"She is worth wiping out an imperial family. Plus, she is a disciple now."

His voice carried clearly across the open space.

The captain’s face twisted in outrage. "You bastard! You dare blaspheme against the imperial family in the presence of imperial soldiers?!"

Lin Guo closed his eyes for a long second and shook his head slowly. It seemed Aaron simply could not resist picking a fight.

"Kill them!" the captain roared, drawing his sword with a metallic ring. "Leave no survivors!"

The riders spurred their mounts forward, weapons gleaming as they charged in a tight, disciplined formation.

Aaron turned his attention back to the girl as though nothing of consequence was happening.

"Now," he said softly, "let’s get you dressed and looking more presentable."

He snapped his fingers once.

In an instant, the filthy rags clinging to her body dissolved into motes of light.

They reformed into a set of flowing, high-grade cultivation robes, deep midnight blue trimmed with silver threads that shimmered like starlight.

The fabric carried a faint protective aura, soft yet impossibly durable.

A simple yet elegant sect emblem, a stylized rift splitting the heavens, glowed faintly over her left breast.

"Hmm," Aaron murmured to himself, tilting his head as he examined the design.

"So that’s the official dress of the sect, huh? Not bad. Pleasing to the eye."

The charging soldiers were almost upon them now, hooves thundering, blades raised, killing intent thick in the air.

Aaron didn’t spare them a single glance.

Back when he was in the god rank, he had taken S-rank lives without effort, like snuffing candles.

Now, standing on the very cusp of the Paradox Rank, these men weren’t even close to S-rank.

Taking them seriously would have been blatant bullying.

So he simply let them come.