The sun rose over the Wen Clan like the unfurling of a golden banner. Its warm rays washed across tiled roofs and stone courtyards, turning the white morning mist into glittering strands of light. Today was no ordinary day. Today, every disciple—old, new, talented, forgotten—held their breath.
The annual Spiritual Root Testing would decide who would be nurtured…
and who would be ignored.
The Wen Clan grounds buzzed with anticipation. Children lined up in neat rows, some trembling, some trying to look fierce, others whispering excitedly. Parents stood behind them wearing forced smiles, while the elders observed from elevated seats with the calm, unreadable expressions of stone statues.
Even the air felt different—thicker, heavier, as if the atmosphere itself sensed the shifting fates about to unfold.
Wen Chen walked quietly among the other children, his heart steady. He wasn't nervous, not like those whose eyes darted anxiously between their peers. But inside him, something hummed—something deeper than nerves. His body felt warm, alive, sensitized by the cultivation session from the previous night.
Orbs had appeared during his breathing exercises—soft green ones, faintly glowing white ones—but he hadn't taken many. He didn't want instability before such an important test. And besides, the rules of the world were clear: if he didn't touch an orb, it faded. They were fleeting, like drops of fortune passing by.
He had taken only enough to push his Talent Progress a little further, stabilizing his foundation.
Now, standing in the open courtyard, Wen Chen felt the full weight of what today meant.
"Form lines!" a booming voice commanded.
Elder Wen Zemin stepped forward with the practiced grace of someone who enjoyed being watched. His dark robes fluttered behind him, the embroidered silver patterns glowing faintly under the sunlight. His expression was the picture of calm dignity—if one ignored the cold gleam hidden deep within his eyes.
Wen Chen felt it immediately.
That stare.
That scrutiny that crawled across his skin like unseen fingers.
Wen Zemin was looking for something—something he suspected but hadn't proven yet.
Wen Chen did not bow his head.
He simply breathed quietly and allowed the world to move around him.
"Children will approach the Crystal of Roots in order," Elder Wen Zemin announced. "Place your palm upon it, circulate your qi, and allow the crystal to reveal your spiritual root."
A large crystal was brought forward by two senior disciples—a translucent stone shaped like a lotus bud, the size of a grown man's torso. Inside, colors danced like trapped lightning.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
This was the heart of the ceremony.
The mirror of destiny.
Spiritual roots determined everything:
Which cultivation techniques you could learn
How fast your qi would grow
Whether the clan elders invested resources in you
How high your future potential soared
A low root meant years of struggle.
A high root meant doors opening everywhere.
One by one, children stepped forward.
Wen Hao, Wen Chen's older brother, was the first among the younger generation to test. He walked confidently, chin high, shoulders broad. Pride dripped from every movement.
He pressed his palm onto the crystal.
The lotus bud flickered—then burst into a bright, earthen yellow glow that traveled upward like a growing flame.
"High Earth Root!" an elder announced.
Applause erupted. Some disciples bowed in admiration. Wen Hao smirked proudly, turning toward Wen Jian—his father—and receiving a nod of approval.
Wen Chen glanced at Wen Jian. His father's face was calm but proud. Not boastful, never arrogant. Wen Jian was strict, but he loved his sons fiercely, whether he showed it often or not.
Soon it was Wen Ming's turn. The same boy who mocked Wen Chen. He strutted forward with exaggerated confidence, slapped his hand on the crystal, and waited.
A bright lime-green light shone.
"Mid-Tier Wood Root!"
Wen Ming's face twitched, disappointed—but still proud enough to glare smugly at Wen Chen.
"Satisfactory," an elder said.
More children took their turns. Lights of yellow, green, orange, and faint blue lit up the crystal in various intensities. Some bright enough to spark cheers, others dim enough to draw sighs of pity.
The line grew shorter.
The tension grew thicker.
And then…
"Wen Chen!"
All eyes shifted toward him.
Whispers spread like fire.
"The Mortal Root child?"
"What is he doing here?"
"He'll probably dim the crystal."
"Maybe he'll break it."
Elder Wen Zemin's eyes sharpened.
Wen Chen walked forward slowly, every step echoing softly in the courtyard. His heartbeat was steady. His mind clear. Inside his body, the faint warmth from his accumulated luck points simmered softly—stable, controlled.
He placed his palm on the crystal.
A cold ripple ran up his arm.
The crystal pulsed faintly.
A soft hum filled the air.
From the crowd, someone scoffed. "It's barely reacting—"
Then the lotus bud flickered again.
Then again.
Then a third time, stronger than before.
The crystal glowed.
Not faintly.
Not weakly.
A deep cyan-blue light surged upward, swirling inside the crystal like a rushing river. Gasps tore through the crowd. Elders stood up. Disciples stared with eyes wide as plates.
"A… High Water Root?" someone whispered.
"No—higher!"
The glow intensified until the crystal's inner light filled the entire courtyard with shimmering waves. The color was unmistakable—rich, pure, powerful.
"Peak Water Root!" Elder Wen Jian, unable to hide his shock, suddenly stood.
A murmur spread like thunder rolling through a valley.
"Impossible—he was a Mortal Root!"
"Wen Chen? That weak boy?"
"How did he—?"
"Peak Water Root… one of the highest within the Wen Clan…"
Elder Wen Zemin stepped forward, face darkening like a storm pulling across the sky. His eyes drilled into Wen Chen as if trying to pierce through his skull.
"This boy…" he whispered. "This boy is hiding something."
Wen Chen withdrew his palm slowly. The crystal dimmed, its glow fading back into calm radiance.
His father stared at him, stunned.
His brother stared at him, confused.
The other children stared at him, wide-eyed.
And Wen Zemin stared at him with pure, sharpened greed.
Wen Chen bowed calmly.
Inside his chest, his heart hammered wildly—but his face remained serene.
Peak Water Root…
A root of fluidity, comprehension, and overwhelming potential.
Not legendary.
Not divine.
But more than enough to shake the balance of the Wen Clan.
And far, far more than enough to attract danger.
The testing continued, but the atmosphere never returned to normal. Not after Wen Chen's result.
By the end of the ceremony, the elders whispered among themselves. The clan buzzed with rumors. The children whispered loudly, unable to hide their envy or awe.
But one thing became clear:
Wen Chen, once ignored and dismissed, had now become someone the entire Wen Clan would have to notice.
Someone to watch.
Someone to fear.
Someone with a future brighter than he himself could yet imagine.
And standing in the shadows, Elder Wen Zemin smiled slowly…
As if he had just discovered a treasure he would kill to obtain.