The stone tablet shattered.
Not cracked.
Not chipped.
It exploded into fragments, scattering dust across the testing hall like a silent curse.
For three heartbeats, no one spoke.
Kael Veyrin stood frozen, his palm still pressed against the remains of what had judged cultivators for over three thousand years. His breath came shallow, uneven, as if his lungs were unsure whether they were allowed to function anymore.
An elder finally rose from his seat.
"This has never happened," he said slowly.
Kael pulled his hand back. The skin of his palm was red — not burned, not wounded, just… wrong. As if the flesh had been stretched from the inside.
Murmurs filled the hall.
"Did he sabotage it?"
"No… the tablet reacted."
"I felt pressure. Like something folding inward."
The elder narrowed his eyes. "Bring another tablet."
A second stone was placed before Kael. Older. Reinforced with runes meant to endure spiritual storms.
Kael hesitated.
Ever since he was a child, spiritual energy had treated him like an enemy. When he tried to circulate it, his meridians tightened instead of opening. His core didn't absorb — it resisted.
But refusal here meant exile.
He pressed his palm down again.
The runes lit up.
Then dimmed.
Then… reversed.
Lines that should have flowed outward bent inward, spiraling toward Kael's hand. The stone screamed — not aloud, but in the minds of everyone present.
The tablet collapsed into gray ash.
Silence fell like a blade.
One elder stood abruptly. "This is heresy."
Another whispered, "It's impossible. There is no such spiritual response."
The head examiner finally spoke, his voice heavy.
"Kael Veyrin… you possess no identifiable elemental root."
Kael's heart sank.
"Instead," the man continued, "your body exhibits a Reverse Root Phenomenon."
The hall stirred.
"Meaning?" someone asked.
The examiner hesitated — a rare thing for a cultivator of his rank.
"It means Heaven does not flow into you," he said.
"It recoils."
Kael swallowed. "So… can I cultivate?"
The elders exchanged glances.
Finally, the answer came.
"No."
The word echoed louder than the tablets breaking.
"You will not be accepted into any orthodox sect," the examiner said. "Your existence disrupts spiritual order. At best, you will stagnate. At worst, you will attract calamity."
Guards stepped forward.
Kael clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
He had expected weakness.
He had prepared for rejection.
But exile?
As he was escorted out, Kael felt something stir deep inside his body — not pain, not rage.
Curiosity.
That night, banished to the outer ruins, Kael tried cultivating one last time.
Instead of drawing energy from the world…
He listened inward.
And something ancient answered.
Not with power — but with hunger.