The Han Xu Sect's outer walls were taller than any structure Li Zhiwei had ever seen.
Not impossibly tall. Not the kind of height that suggested divine architecture or techniques that bent reality. Just tall in the way that announced permanence, that said these walls had stood for centuries and would stand for centuries more, that the people within had built something that would outlast individual lives.
The stone was grey, weathered but solid. No cracks. No signs of age beyond a certain smoothing at the base where rain had touched it year after year without causing damage. The kind of stone that had been selected not for beauty but for function, for the simple quality of not breaking when the world pressed against it.
Li Zhiwei passed through the main gate alongside a stream of other applicants. The gate was open, unguarded. No one stopped them or checked credentials. This was testing day. Anyone could enter. Anyone could try.
Most would leave the same way they arrived. But the possibility existed, and possibility was enough to draw hundreds.
The path from gate to courtyard was paved with flat stones that had been worn smooth by traffic. Someone had swept recently. No debris, no fallen leaves, just clean stone that reflected the morning light. Everything about the sect's outer grounds suggested order, maintenance, resources spent on details that most people wouldn't notice but that accumulated into an impression of competence.
The courtyard itself was larger than the entire central square of Willow Creek Village.
Hundreds of people were already present, arranged in loose clusters that suggested social organization. Groups of friends who'd traveled together. Families with nervous children. Lone applicants like himself, standing at the edges, watching.
At the courtyard's center stood the Testing Stone.
It looked nothing like Li Zhiwei had imagined.
All the stories described it as impressive, glowing, radiating power. What he saw was a pale blue crystal the size of a wine barrel, sitting on a simple stone pedestal. No glow. No hum of energy. No visible indication that it was anything other than a large piece of shaped mineral.
But the space around it was empty. A wide circle where no one stood, as if invisible boundaries kept the crowd at bay. Not fear. Just respect. Recognition that this object, regardless of its appearance, held authority that required distance.
Li Zhiwei found a space near the back of the gathering crowd and settled in to wait.
More applicants arrived. The courtyard filled. By the time the sun had fully cleared the eastern wall, the space was packed with young faces, all wearing expressions somewhere between hope and dread.
He studied the other faces in the crowd.
Most were young. Around his age, the time when spiritual roots were said to be most receptive to awakening. A few were older, people making a final attempt before accepting that cultivation wasn't their path. Some wore robes that spoke of wealth. Others wore clothes that had been carefully cleaned but remained stubbornly worn.
The nervous energy was palpable. People shifting weight from foot to foot. Adjusting their robes. Talking in low voices that tried to sound confident but emerged shaky.
Li Zhiwei felt none of that nervous energy himself. Not because he was confident. Because nervousness required investment in outcome, and he'd been careful not to invest too heavily. Hope was expensive. Disappointment cost more than he could afford.
Better to observe. To wait. To learn what would be learned without deciding in advance what he wanted that learning to be.
A door opened in one of the buildings that bordered the courtyard.
The conversations died. The crowd fell silent, attention snapping toward the figure who emerged.
The man was perhaps middle-aged, though age was difficult to determine. His face was weathered in a way that suggested experience rather than years. His robes were simple, grey and undyed, marked only by a small emblem over his heart that Li Zhiwei didn't recognize.
But the way space adjusted around him was unmistakable. Not dramatically. Just a subtle yielding, as if the air itself acknowledged his presence and made room accordingly.
This was a cultivator. Not just someone who'd awakened their spiritual roots, but someone who'd advanced far enough that the world treated them differently.
The man walked to the Testing Stone without hurry. His footsteps made no sound. When he stopped beside the pedestal, he turned to face the crowd, and everyone straightened unconsciously.
"I am Elder Qin," he said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried. Some technique that ensured every person heard clearly regardless of position, that made his words arrive in the ear as if spoken directly to each listener individually.
"Today you will be tested. The Testing Stone has served the Han Xu Sect for generations. Its judgment is absolute. Its accuracy is perfect. What it reveals about your potential is not opinion or estimate. It is fact."
He paused, letting that settle.
"When called, you will approach. Place both hands on the stone. Wait for the reaction. The stone will respond according to the presence and quality of your spiritual roots."
Another pause.
"White light indicates mortal grade roots. Acceptable for outer sect consideration. Grey light indicates inferior mortal grade. Labor corps only. Green light indicates earth grade roots, inferior quality. Outer sect with privileges. Blue light indicates earth grade roots, superior quality. Inner sect consideration."
He didn't mention higher grades. Either they were rare enough not to warrant explanation, or the explanation was reserved for those fortunate enough to display them.
"No light indicates no spiritual roots. Rejection."
The words landed with the weight of stone.
"We will begin. Form a queue. When you hear 'next,' you will step forward immediately."
The crowd shifted, organizing itself into a line without needing further instruction. People arranging themselves by unspoken agreement into an order that roughly corresponded to position in the courtyard.
Li Zhiwei ended up somewhere past the middle. Not early, not particularly late either. Positioned such that he would see many results before his own, but not so late that the waiting would become torture.
"First applicant," Elder Qin said. "Step forward."
A girl approached. Young, wearing robes that had been carefully maintained but showed their age. Her hands trembled as she placed them on the Testing Stone.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then light bloomed. White, steady, spreading up from the stone through her arms like dawn touching water.
"White root. Mortal grade." Elder Qin made a notation on a scroll that had appeared in his hand. "Outer sect. Report to the eastern pavilion after testing concludes."
The girl's face transformed. Joy so complete it looked painful. She bowed repeatedly, then practically ran toward the designated area.
"Next."
A boy. Wearing robes that didn't apologize for their quality. He walked to the stone with confidence.
Blue light erupted. Brilliance that made several people shield their eyes.
"Blue root. Earth grade, superior quality." Even Elder Qin's neutral expression showed a flicker of approval. "Inner sect. Report to the western pavilion."
The boy nodded and walked toward his designated area with satisfaction.
The whispers started immediately, then faded as the testing continued.
"Next."
The line moved forward.
White. White. Grey. White. Green. White. White.
The pattern established itself. Most showed white or grey. Some showed green. Blue was rare but not shocking when it appeared.
Li Zhiwei found himself simply watching, noting the rhythm without trying to extract meaning from it. Each person stepped forward, touched stone, revealed result, moved aside. Over and over.
The line shortened. The sun climbed higher. Time moved strangely, simultaneously too fast and too slow.
Eventually, he could see the Testing Stone clearly. No longer blocked by bodies ahead of him.
Then he was close. Close enough that only a handful remained between him and his turn.
In Willow Creek Village, Aunt Han worked the field alone.
The hoe bit into earth that had been turned yesterday, that still showed the marks of two people working side by side. Now just one. The other walking a road that led either to a future different from this field, or back to this field with that future confirmed as impossible.
She worked the row Li Zhiwei had been working yesterday. Finishing what he'd started. Making sure the soil was properly prepared regardless of what happened at the testing.
The field didn't care about cultivation or spiritual roots. It cared about being worked, being planted, being harvested. That was the thing about farming. It continued. Always continued.
She struck a particularly stubborn section and paused, leaning on her hoe, looking at the mountains in the distance where the Han Xu Sect made its home.
Too far to see. But she looked anyway.
"If he fails," she said to the earth, to the mountains, to no one, "does that mean it's just fate? That our family is meant to work soil and nothing else?"
The earth didn't answer.
"His grandfather farmed. His father farmed. Now him. The same life. Same work. Same limitations."
She resumed hoeing, but her movements were slower now. More deliberate.
"But his father..." She paused again. "Li Yuan wasn't supposed to be a farmer."
The name hung in the air. Li Yuan. Li Zhiwei's father. Dead now. Buried in the village cemetery under a simple stone that said nothing about who he'd been before arriving in Willow Creek Village years ago.
Before marrying a local girl. Before having a son. Before settling into a life that looked exactly like everyone else's life, indistinguishable from the pattern.
"He never told the boy," Aunt Han said. "Never told anyone except me. Made me promise not to tell either."
She struck the earth harder than necessary.
"Probably the right choice. What good does knowing do? Just makes it worse. Just makes you wonder why things turned out the way they did. Why someone who could have been something else chose to be nothing instead."
She worked in silence for a time, the rhythm of hoeing providing structure to thoughts that otherwise spiraled.
"But if the boy has even a fraction..." She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.
If Li Zhiwei inherited anything from his father beyond appearance and name. If bloodline meant anything. If whatever Li Yuan had been could pass down.
Then maybe the Testing Stone would show something.
Or maybe it would show nothing. Maybe potential didn't pass through generations. Maybe it faded or refused to manifest when it might have mattered most.
"Come home safe," she said finally. "That's all I ask. Whatever that stone says, just come home safe. We'll figure out the rest."
She returned to her work with steady determination, focusing on what she could control. Whether this field got properly prepared for spring planting.
The rest would happen or not happen according to principles she didn't control and couldn't influence.
But she looked toward the mountains one more time before bending back to her task.
"Next."
Li Zhiwei watched as another applicant approached. A girl, older than most. This was likely her last attempt.
Grey light. Dim.
"Grey root. Inferior mortal grade. Labor corps."
The girl's face showed no expression. She'd expected this. She bowed once and walked toward the administrative building.
"Next."
A boy who looked young. Brought by parents who stood at the courtyard's edge, watching with desperate hope.
Green light. Modest but present.
"Green root. Earth grade, inferior quality. Outer sect with privileges."
The parents grabbed each other. The boy tried to maintain composure but failed, grinning widely.
"Next."
A girl wearing robes that announced wealth. Confidence in her posture.
White light. Expected.
"White root. Mortal grade. Outer sect."
She nodded, satisfied, and walked toward the eastern pavilion.
"Next."
A boy wearing robes that had been carefully maintained. Hands calloused in ways that suggested labor. Another farmer's son.
His hand touched the stone.
Nothing happened.
The silence stretched. The boy kept his hand pressed to crystal, as if waiting could make light appear.
Elder Qin's expression didn't change.
"No spiritual root. Rejection."
The boy pulled his hand back. Stared at it. Stared at the stone. Looked at Elder Qin as if waiting for some explanation.
But Elder Qin had already turned his attention to the scroll, making his notation with mechanical precision.
The boy walked away. Not toward any pavilion. Just away. Out of the courtyard, toward the gate, toward whatever life existed outside these walls.
Li Zhiwei watched him go and felt something that wasn't quite sympathy and wasn't quite fear. Just recognition. That could be him soon.
Would be him, probably. Statistics suggested it. His inability to sense anything suggested it.
But probability wasn't certainty.
"Next."
Li Zhiwei's attention snapped back to the present. One person remained ahead of him now.
A young man stepped forward. Perhaps a year older than Li Zhiwei, wearing robes that were expensive without being ostentatious. His bearing suggested confidence, but not arrogance. Just certainty about what was coming.
He placed his hands on the Testing Stone.
For a moment, nothing.
Then light erupted.
Blue. But not the steady blue Li Zhiwei had seen earlier. This was brilliant, almost blinding, a radiance that seemed to pour from the stone itself rather than merely reflect through it. The light climbed up the young man's arms, suffused his entire body, turned him into something that looked half-made of crystal and half-made of sky.
The courtyard went completely silent.
Even Elder Qin's neutral expression broke. His eyebrows rose fractionally.
"Blue root. Earth grade..." He paused, studying the intensity. "Peak superior quality. Rare. Inner sect with direct elder sponsorship."
The light faded slowly, reluctant to leave.
The young man pulled his hands away from the stone, his expression unchanged. As if he'd expected exactly this result. As if confirmation was merely formality.
He turned away from the Testing Stone.
His eyes found Li Zhiwei.
For a moment, their gazes locked. The young man's expression shifted. Not into cruelty. Not into mockery. Just into something that might have been pity, or might have been dismissal. The look of someone who'd just confirmed their place in a hierarchy, seeing someone who almost certainly wouldn't qualify for that same hierarchy.
Then he walked away, toward the western pavilion where the most promising applicants gathered.
The crowd's whispers resumed. Excited. Awed.
"Did you see how bright..."
"Peak superior quality, when was the last time..."
"Direct elder sponsorship means..."
Li Zhiwei stopped listening.
"Next."
The word cut through the whispers like a blade through silk.
Silence returned.
Li Zhiwei stepped forward.
The Testing Stone was exactly where it had been. The same pale blue crystal. The same simple pedestal. The same surface that had just produced light so bright it made everyone shield their eyes.
Now his turn.
He walked to the stone. Each step felt normal. No dramatic slowing of time. No heightened awareness of the moment. Just walking, his feet carrying him forward because that was what feet did.
He stopped before the Testing Stone.
It was warmer than the surrounding air. Not hot. Just slightly above ambient temperature, as if it still held heat from the brilliant display moments before.
Elder Qin stood beside the pedestal, scroll in hand, brush ready. His expression had returned to neutral. Professional. Whatever brief surprise the previous result had generated was gone, replaced by the face of someone who'd presided over this ritual countless times.
Li Zhiwei raised his hands.
The courtyard held its breath.
He placed both palms flat against the crystal's surface.
And waited.