The mountain did not welcome the weak.
Cold wind slid like a blade across the stone steps, carrying with it the scent of iron and damp moss. At the peak stood the outer grounds of the Azure Cloud Sect—silent, vast, and indifferent. White-robed disciples moved across the courtyard like drifting ghosts, their expressions calm, their steps steady.
And at the center of it all—
A boy knelt.
His robes were worn thin at the sleeves, the cloth darkened by dust and dried sweat. His back was straight, but only because he forced it to be. Beneath the surface, his body trembled.
"Raise your head."
The voice was neither loud nor harsh.
Yet it carried weight.
Lin Xuan lifted his head slowly.
Before him stood Elder Zhou, one of the sect's inner examiners. His beard was long, streaked with grey, his eyes narrow and cold as winter frost. Around him, several disciples stood watching—some curious, some amused, most indifferent.
Lin Xuan swallowed.
His throat felt dry.
"State your name," Elder Zhou said.
"Lin… Lin Xuan."
A pause.
"Extend your hand."
Lin Xuan obeyed.
The moment his palm opened, Elder Zhou placed two fingers lightly against his wrist. Spiritual energy—thin, sharp, and invasive—slipped into his body like a serpent.
Lin Xuan flinched.
It felt… wrong.
Like something inside him resisted.
Elder Zhou's brows furrowed.
Around them, whispers began.
"Something's strange…"
"He's reacting too much…"
"Is he defective?"
Lin Xuan heard every word.
His heart began to pound.
Please… please let it be good…
For years, he had dreamed of this moment. Of stepping into the world of cultivation. Of becoming someone… someone who mattered.
Someone who wouldn't be looked down upon.
Elder Zhou's fingers stiffened.
Then—
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Not curiosity.
Disgust.
"Eight."
The word fell like a stone.
The courtyard went silent.
Then—
Laughter.
Not loud at first.
Just a few voices.
Then more.
"He has eight spiritual roots?"
"That's not talent—that's garbage."
"Even mortals are cleaner than that."
Lin Xuan's mind went blank.
Eight…?
He didn't understand.
Was that bad?
It had to be bad.
Because Elder Zhou had already withdrawn his hand.
As if touching him any longer would be a waste.
"Fire. Water. Earth. Wind. Metal. Wood. Lightning…" Elder Zhou muttered, his lips curling slightly. "And even a trace of Yin."
A ripple moved through the crowd.
"Impossible…"
"Eight elemental roots… all mixed?"
"That's worse than useless."
Lin Xuan's fingers tightened against the stone floor.
"…Elder," he said, his voice small, "I—can I still cultivate?"
For a moment, no one answered.
Then laughter burst again—this time louder, sharper.
"You?" a disciple scoffed. "Cultivate what? Failure?"
Another added, "Eight roots mean your body rejects itself. You'll never even stabilize Qi."
Elder Zhou turned away.
"Record him as an outer disciple."
Lin Xuan blinked.
Hope flickered—
Then died.
"Assign him to the lower courtyards," Elder Zhou continued. "Manual labor. No resource allocation."
The words were spoken plainly.
As if they were obvious.
As if Lin Xuan's future had already been decided.
No one objected.
No one questioned it.
To them—
It was natural.
Lin Xuan lowered his head.
"…Yes, Elder."
The courtyard slowly emptied.
Disciples left in groups, their voices fading into the wind. Some glanced back at him with faint amusement. Others didn't bother looking at all.
Lin Xuan remained kneeling long after they were gone.
The stone beneath him had grown colder.
Or perhaps he had.
"…Eight roots…"
He whispered the words quietly.
They felt heavy.
Like chains.
Footsteps approached.
Slow. Measured.
Lin Xuan didn't look up at first.
Until a shadow stopped in front of him.
"Still kneeling?"
The voice was soft.
Gentle.
Familiar.
Lin Xuan's head lifted.
"Su Yan…"
She stood there in white robes, untouched by dust or strain. Her long black hair fell over her shoulders like silk, and her eyes—clear, calm—rested on him with something that looked like concern.
She was beautiful.
Even among cultivators, she stood out.
And for a moment—
The cold faded.
"You shouldn't stay here," she said quietly. "The wind is too strong."
Lin Xuan forced a small smile.
"I'm fine."
She looked at him for a moment longer.
Then stepped closer.
Without hesitation, she extended her hand.
"Come."
Lin Xuan hesitated.
Not because he didn't want to take it.
But because he felt… unworthy.
Still—
He reached out.
Her hand was warm.
They walked together along the narrow stone path leading down the mountain.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence was not uncomfortable.
At least—not for him.
Finally, Lin Xuan said, "Eight roots… is it really that bad?"
Su Yan's steps slowed.
Just slightly.
"It's… rare."
"That's not what they said."
"No."
She looked ahead.
"They didn't."
Lin Xuan lowered his gaze.
"I thought… if I joined the sect… things would change."
Su Yan didn't respond immediately.
When she did, her voice was softer.
"Lin Xuan… not everyone is meant to rise."
The words were gentle.
But they cut deeper than mockery.
He forced a laugh.
"…I see."
A pause.
Then—
"But I'll still try."
Su Yan turned her head slightly.
"You shouldn't."
Lin Xuan blinked.
"What?"
"If you force it…" she said, her tone calm, "you'll only suffer more."
Something tightened in his chest.
"But if I don't try… then what am I here for?"
Su Yan didn't answer.
And that silence—
It said enough.
The lower courtyards were far from the main sect grounds.
The air felt heavier here.
The buildings were older, cracked in places, their paint faded. Disciples moved more slowly, their robes less pristine.
This was where the unwanted gathered.
Lin Xuan stood at the entrance, clutching the wooden token that marked his status.
Outer disciple.
No resources.
No guidance.
Just existence.
A man approached him—broad-shouldered, scar across his cheek.
"New one?"
Lin Xuan nodded.
The man snorted.
"Another stray."
He pointed toward a row of worn rooms.
"Pick one. If it's empty, it's yours."
Then he turned away without another word.
Lin Xuan stood there for a moment.
Then walked forward.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
Behind him—
The mountain loomed.
Silent.
Indifferent.
As if it had already forgotten him.
That night—
The wind howled.
Inside a small, dimly lit room, Lin Xuan sat cross-legged on a thin mat.
A single oil lamp flickered weakly beside him.
His hands rested on his knees.
His breathing slowed.
He had memorized the basic cultivation method long ago.
Even before entering the sect.
Now—
He tried to use it.
"Gather Qi… guide it through the meridians…"
He closed his eyes.
Focused.
At first—
Nothing.
Then—
A faint sensation.
Like threads in the air.
Energy.
Spiritual Qi.
His heart quickened.
I can feel it…
Slowly, carefully—
He tried to draw it in.
The moment it entered his body—
Pain.
Sharp.
Violent.
His entire body convulsed.
The Qi split.
No—
It clashed.
Fire burned.
Water froze.
Lightning cracked.
Wind tore.
Eight different forces surged within him—
Colliding.
Rejecting each other.
Rejecting him.
"—!"
Lin Xuan collapsed forward, his breath ragged.
Pain flooded every inch of him.
It felt like his body was being torn apart from the inside.
He gasped.
Coughed.
A trace of blood stained his lips.
"…Why…"
His hands trembled.
Again.
He tried again.
Qi gathered.
Entered—
And exploded into chaos.
This time—
He screamed.
Outside his room, footsteps paused.
A few disciples glanced toward the sound.
Then looked away.
One muttered, "Idiot."
Another said, "Eight roots… he'll cripple himself soon enough."
No one intervened.
No one cared.
Inside—
Lin Xuan lay on the floor.
His body shook.
Tears blurred his vision.
"…I can't…"
His voice broke.
"…I can't even start…"
The dream he had carried for years—
Felt like it was crumbling.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
The lamp flickered.
The shadows shifted.
And in that moment—
Something inside him whispered.
Not a voice.
Not yet.
But a feeling.
A question.
Will you stop?
Lin Xuan's fingers curled against the cold floor.
Pain still burned through him.
His chest rose and fell unevenly.
Tears slid silently across his temples.
"…No."
The word was barely a breath.
But it was real.
Even now—
Even like this—
He refused.
Outside, the storm grew louder.
Thunder rolled across the mountain.
And deep within Lin Xuan's broken body—
Eight conflicting energies stirred once more.
Violent.
Unstable.
Unforgiving.
The path had already begun.
And it would not be kind.