The wooden door creaked open.
Village Chief Zhang stepped inside, his staff tapping softly against the stone floor. The lingering chatter in the room died instantly, as if someone had pressed a mute button.
His back was slightly hunched from age, his hair streaked with white, yet his eyes were clear and steady—eyes that carried the weight of decades spent watching people rise and fall.
His gaze swept across the children before settling on Liu Hu.
"I heard what you said outside," Old Zhang spoke calmly, his voice neither loud nor harsh.
Liu Hu stiffened.
"Chief," he said quickly, forcing respect into his tone, "I only meant that intelligence doesn't guarantee cultivation success."
Old Zhang nodded slowly.
"That's true," he said. "Talent is important."
For a brief moment, Liu Hu's shoulders relaxed.
Then Old Zhang continued.
"But being ignorant of reality guarantees failure."
The children blinked.
"A cultivator who doesn't know restraint," Old Zhang said evenly, "who lets jealousy guide his actions, will die early—even if he has good talent."
His voice grew heavier.
"I've seen many so-called geniuses buried in shallow graves."
His gaze lingered on Liu Hu for a heartbeat longer before moving away.
"Remember this," he said. "Surviving long enough is also a kind of ability."
Liu Hu clenched his fists, knuckles whitening, but he didn't dare respond.
Old Zhang turned around.
"Follow me. Testing begins."
He led them through a narrow passage behind the office into a sealed inner room. With practiced movements, he activated a soundproofing and concealment array. Faint runes lit up along the walls, and a low hum filled the air as the formation stabilized.
From his storage pouch, Old Zhang took out an object.
It was a football-sized sphere—transparent crystal on the upper half, dull metal on the bottom surface etched with complex runes that pulsed faintly with light.
He placed it carefully on the table.
"This is a Spirit Root Testing Globe," Old Zhang said. "Place your hand on it. It will send elemental energies into your body to determine your affinities."
His gaze sharpened.
"Do not resist. Let it flow naturally."
"Resistance will affect the results."
He pointed his staff at Liu Hu.
"You go first."
Liu Hu stepped forward eagerly and placed his palm on the crystal surface.
The globe trembled.
Moments later, mist began to rise inside.
Green…
Red…
Yellow…
White.
Four distinct colours swirled together.
"Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal," Old Zhang announced. "Four spiritual roots."
Liu Hu's eyes widened.
Four roots.
That was the Sun Moon Spirit Sect's entry threshold—something his father had mentioned countless times.
"I—I can cultivate!" Liu Hu shouted, raising his fists excitedly. "I can become a Foundation Establishment cultivator one day!"
Old Zhang neither praised nor mocked him.
"Talent is only the starting line," he said. "Remember my words."
Liu Hu nodded hastily, though it was clear the warning hadn't truly sunk in.
Old Zhang didn't bother with him further.
"Next," he said.
"Name?"
"Yun Ruoxi," the first girl replied softly.
She placed her hand on the globe.
Blue mist appeared, followed by green and yellow.
"Water, Wood, Earth," Old Zhang said. "Three roots."
Yun Ruoxi bit her lip, her eyes shining, but she remained composed and stepped back.
"Next"
The second girl stepped forward.
"Feng Yanran."
Blue…
Green…
White…
Red.
"Four roots—Water, Wood, Metal, Fire."
Relief washed over Feng Yanran's face, a small smile breaking through her nervousness.
Then came the final boy before me.
Huo Chen.
Quiet. Thin. His eyes always lowered.
I recognized him immediately.
Five years ago, his older brother—Huo Long who had become an inner disciple of the Sun Moon Spirit Sect. A dual spirit root cultivator. The entire village had been shaken by that news.
They were orphans so he had entrusted his younger brother to Village Chief Zhang before leaving.
Huo Chen placed his hand on the globe.
White…
Red…....
Yellow.
"Metal, Fire, Earth," Old Zhang said, a trace of regret flickering through his eyes. "Three roots."
Huo Chen nodded silently. His hands clenched beneath his robe before he stepped back.
Then
All eyes turned to me.
Even Old Zhang's expression grew slightly more focused.
Huo Chen was also curious
'So this is the child the chief occasionally praises…
What kind of root will he awaken?'
I stepped forward and placed my hand on the globe.
Cold yet warm energy surged into my body, rushing through my meridians like an unfamiliar tide.
The globe trembled violently.
Then
Mist erupted.
Green.
Red.
Yellow.
White.
Blue.
Five colours.
Complete chaos.
The room fell deathly silent.
"A five-element spirit root," Old Zhang said slowly.
Disappointment rippled through the room.
Except one person.
"Hahaha!" Liu Hu burst out laughing. "Five roots? That's trash! Even if you cultivate your whole life, you'll barely reach Qi Refining peak!"
I withdrew my hand calmly and looked at him.
"You're right," I said evenly. "With five roots, Foundation Establishment is nearly impossible."
Liu Hu's grin widened.
"But," I continued, my voice steady, "at least I'll live long enough to try."
I met his eyes.
"With that stinking mouth of yours, you might not even survive to Qi Refining peak."
The smile froze.
"You—!"
Liu Hu lunged forward.
Bang!
Old Zhang slammed his staff onto the ground.
Spiritual pressure surged outward, forcing Liu Hu to his knees.
"That's enough," Old Zhang said coldly.
Liu Hu trembled, teeth clenched, but didn't dare move.
Old Zhang waved his hand.
Several wooden tokens floated out, each engraved with spirit root results. He distributed them one by one.
"Two days from now," he said, "a sect envoy will arrive to collect taxes. Those who wish to join the Sun Moon Spirit Sect may come to my office."
"Four roots or fewer is the entry threshold. You will start as outer disciples."
He paused, his tone softening slightly.
"Today is an auspicious day."
"This batch was fortunate. None of you are spirit-rootless."
The children bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Chief!"
"Go," Old Zhang said. "Sort out your family affairs. Return in two days if you wish to join the sect."
They turned to leave.
"Shen Yuan."
I stopped.
Old Zhang gestured for the others to go first. When the room was empty, he pointed to a chair.
"Sit."
He took out a tea set from his storage pouch and prepared the tea with unhurried movements.
He poured a cup and slid it toward me.
"Drink."
I took a sip.
Bitter.
Unpleasant.
Then
I took another sip.
The bitterness no longer stung. Instead, a mellow sweetness lingered at the back of my throat, faint yet enduring.
"How is it?" Old Zhang asked.
I thought for a moment before answering.
"At first, it's hard to drink," I said slowly. "Bitter enough to make you want to spit it out. But if you endure it and let it linger... the taste changes. Sweetness rises, mellow and warm, slowly the fragrance of tea quietly fills the mouth."
Old Zhang nodded, satisfied.
"That's tea," he said. "And that's life."
He leaned back slightly, tapping his fingers against the table.
"Shen Yuan," he continued, his voice softer now, "you cannot enter the sect. Not today. Not with this spirit root."
I met his gaze without flinching.
"But don't let that turn into resentment," he said. "When pain comes, when loss comes, most people panic. They curse fate, curse heaven, curse others."
He shook his head.
"That's how people lose themselves."
I remained silent, listening.
"If you can stay clear-minded," Old Zhang said, "if you can endure long enough to think instead of react, you will always find a path."
He gestured toward the tea.
"Just like this. Bitterness always comes first, like life's many problems. Only those who endure it with perseverance will taste sweetness in the end."
I gave a small nod.
"I understand."
Old Zhang studied me for a long moment, as if confirming something in his heart.
Then he reached into his sleeve and placed a thin, worn book on the table.
The characters on its cover were simple and unadorned.
Longevity Breathing Technique
"I can't help you much," he said frankly. "I don't have spirit stones to give, nor secret inheritances."
"But this technique…" He tapped the book lightly. "If you cultivate it well, you will live longer and healthier than most at the same realm."
"This is only Part One—Qi Refining Stage," he added. "The remaining parts exist. In sects. In great cities. Whether you ever encounter them… that depends on fate."
He looked at me steadily.
"You have choices."
"You can wait patiently, gather strength slowly, and look for an opportunity."
"Or," his eyes narrowed slightly, "you can pursue body cultivation. Powerful, but costly. Dangerous. Many die before seeing results."
He leaned back.
"I won't tell you which path is right."
"Because the right path," he said calmly, "is the one you can walk without regret."
The room fell quiet.
I reached out, picked up the book, and placed it carefully into my robe.
Then I stood.
I bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your guidance, Chief."
Old Zhang waved his hand, already turning away.
"Go."
--------
Outside, the evening sun cast long shadows across the village paths.
I walked home slowly, the weight of the book steady against my chest.
Five-element spirit root.
A path filled with thorns.
'But—
I have patience.
And now—
I have a choice.
And something more.
Now I have A SYSTEM.'