Clouds shifted. Stars blinked.
Far above the mortal sky, in a realm built of gold-threaded cloudstone and layered immortal parchment, a clerk dipped his brush into celestial ink. He frowned. The karmic scroll in front of him—monitoring Southern Quadrant 5-Violet-Mortal—flickered with a note of irregular Qi formation.
Just for a moment.
Faint. Weak.
But not natural.
The brush paused.
A blank name slot pulsed. No signature. No file. No heavenly ledger entry.
The clerk filed it under:
"Unverified Phenomenon – Marked for Observation."
Then he sipped immortal tea and moved on.
Below, in the rotting temple of a forgotten god, Lin Xun slept like the dead.
It was the pain that woke him.
Sharp. Inward. Like something inside him was… misaligned.
Lin Xun sat up, wincing. The burned circle on his palm itched furiously. His bones felt sore. His breath carried weight it didn't have yesterday—like his body was pretending to be stronger than it really was.
The ritual worked.
He still couldn't believe it. Not fully.
The spirit root—the fake one—was still humming inside him, like a thread of heat drawn from a candle and left to float through his chest.
He wasn't a cultivator.
But to the world… he might look like one.
He stood, knees wobbling, and looked around the shrine. The altar was cracked. The floor dusted with faded ash. The scroll had vanished—or perhaps become part of him.
But the ritual had cost something. His body felt heavier. His blood sluggish.
Not all lies were free.
There was an old formation testing pillar near the back hills behind the village—half-buried, long abandoned, once used by scouts of the Thousand Lights Sect to scan for rising talent in frontier towns.
Lin Xun had passed by it many times, wondering what it felt like to stand there and be seen by the heavens.
Tonight, he intended to find out.
The moon was still low when he reached it.
The pillar stood alone on a rise of stone overlooking terraced fields, surrounded by thornbush and silence. Its runes were chipped, and the jade inlays along the base had dulled. But it still thrummed faintly with suppressed Qi.
Lin Xun approached with slow reverence.
He pressed his hand against the center circle, mimicking the motion he had seen so many others use.
For a second—nothing.
Then light.
Faint. Pale orange. A wisp of radiance snaked from the pillar into his palm, passed through him, and recoiled—hesitated—as if unsure.
Then it flared.
The pillar glowed.
A glyph bloomed in the air:
Qi Presence Detected: Level 0.9 – Instable Root Formation
Classification: Low Spiritual Potential – Outer Disciple Qualification Possible
Lin Xun exhaled, eyes wide.
It worked.
It actually worked.
Even this ancient sect tool had accepted the fake root as real enough. The system didn't care about truth. Only signals. Only impressions.
His mind raced.
Could he fake it all?
Back at the shrine, he opened the remaining pages burned into his memory.
The next technique was simpler: False Qi Pulse Amplification — a method to "echo" Qi along forged meridian paths for a brief performance of strength. Temporary. Risky. But enough to pass public tests or basic duels.
He practiced until his nose bled.
He practiced until his pulse turned jagged and his muscles twitched in rebellion.
But the fake Qi… obeyed.
Three days later, the sect came.
The Thousand Lights Sect arrived at Lin Village once every four years, sweeping through frontier territories to test promising youths. Their floating palanquin arrived in a storm of spirit banners, and two junior elders and a recordkeeper stepped off in a spray of light.
Children gathered. Parents bowed. The village head offered tea.
Lin Xun stood in the crowd, hood pulled low.
This time, he wasn't even on the list.
He would have to get on it.
By lying.
"Lin Xun?" The recordkeeper adjusted his spectacles. "Not listed."
Lin Xun stepped forward anyway.
The elder raised a brow. "You were tested already, boy. Failed, I believe."
"Yes, Elder," Lin Xun said calmly. "I was tested with a flawed stone. It rejected me. I returned home and cultivated in private, using an old breathing method I found in my grandfather's chest."
There was silence.
Then laughter.
The villagers scoffed. The sect juniors exchanged looks.
"Self-cultivated, are we?" one of them mocked. "And I suppose you formed a root using goat piss and moonlight?"
Lin Xun said nothing.
He simply lifted his hand.
His palm glowed faintly.
The fake root shimmered beneath the skin, pulsing with illusion Qi channeled through the amplification loop he had practiced until it nearly killed him.
The elder blinked. "That's… a meridian glow."
The recordkeeper scribbled furiously. "Low rank, but real signature."
"It must be residual from proximity to actual cultivators," one elder muttered.
Lin Xun stepped forward. "Test me."
A long pause.
Then the testing crystal was brought forward again.
Lin Xun touched it.
This time, it pulsed orange.
Not red. Not blue. Not gold.
But present.
"Low-grade fire affinity," the recordkeeper said, stunned.
"Level?" the elder asked.
"Qi Level 1.1. Weak… but functional."
The elder turned to him, frowning. "Explain this. You failed a week ago. You couldn't have cultivated this quickly without elixirs."
Lin Xun didn't blink. "Desperation breeds breakthroughs."
"…You forged a root through will alone?"
Lin Xun nodded.
Technically, that wasn't a lie.
The elder looked at the others.
Then shrugged. "Fine. He qualifies. Outer Disciple candidate."
Lin Xun bowed.
The villagers stood stunned.
He walked past them without a glance.
That night, Lin Xun sat on the edge of the cliff behind the shrine and watched the clouds.
He'd done it.
Step one: forge the root.
Step two: fool the system.
Step three: enter the sect.
Next came harder things: fake breakthroughs, counterfeit tribulations, merit manipulation, stolen manuals… and celestial eyes.
But for now—
For one brief moment—
He was a cultivator.
Even if it was all built on a lie.