The parting came sooner than Su Yang expected.
Wen Renxuan guided his rickety medicine cart along winding mountain roads for three weeks, stopping at every hamlet and remote farmstead where his patients waited. Su Yang helped as always, grinding herbs and bandaging wounds, but his mind was elsewhere—chasing the fleeting glimpses of cultivators in the distance, the memory of sword-light against grey skies.
On a misty morning at the Jade River crossroads, the doctor reined in his mule and pointed toward a cluster of covered wagons surrounded by armed guards.
"That's the Li family caravan," Wen Renxuan said, his voice carrying a note of finality. "They trade between Cangwu and Yunzhou. Respectable. Safe. I've already spoken with their caravan master—you'll travel with them as a junior assistant. Help with the accounts, keep your mouth shut, and you'll reach Yunzhou in a month."
Su Yang climbed down from the cart, his small bundle of possessions slung over his shoulder. He turned and bowed deeply to the doctor, the same deep bow he'd given in the inn at Cangwu.
"Thank you, Master Wen. For everything."
The doctor waved a dismissive hand, but his eyes were soft. "Don't thank me yet, boy. We'll see if that stubbornness of yours is a blessing or a curse." He flicked the reins. "Try not to die."
The mule snorted and the cart lurched forward. Su Yang watched until the grey robe disappeared into the morning mist, then turned toward the caravan.
The Li family caravan was a modest affair compared to the grand merchant trains Su Yang had read about in novels—six covered wagons laden with silk, tea, and spirit ore from the northern mines, guarded by a dozen armed men. But to a village boy who had never traveled further than the local market town, it was an expedition of epic proportions.
He was assigned to help a gaunt accountant named Old Liu, verifying cargo manifests and tallying expenses. It was tedious work, but it gave him a reason to be there, and more importantly, it gave him access.
The caravan moved at a steady pace, and Su Yang spent his first few days observing. The guards were mostly mortals with spears and crossbows, hardened men who chewed betel nut and traded crude jokes. But one man was different.
Captain Wei.
He was a lean, weathered man in his forties, with a perpetual five-o'clock shadow and a sword that never left his side. More tellingly, he wore a jade pendant at his throat that shimmered faintly in the morning light—a talisman, Su Yang realized. A cultivator's trinket.
Su Yang waited until the fourth night, when the caravan made camp by a clear mountain stream. Captain Wei sat apart from the other guards, meditating with his sword across his knees, his breathing slow and rhythmic. A faint, almost imperceptible glow surrounded his palms.
Su Yang approached cautiously, keeping his footsteps loud enough not to startle. "Captain Wei?"
The man opened one eye. "The accountant's helper. What do you want, boy?"
"I want to cultivate." Su Yang saw no point in subtlety. "I'm traveling to Yunzhou for the Sect Selection. I was hoping… you might tell me what to expect."
Captain Wei studied him for a long moment, then let out a short laugh. "Bold. I'll give you that." He gestured to the ground beside him. "Sit. If you're going to throw yourself at the sect gates, you should at least know what you're throwing yourself into."
Su Yang sat cross-legged, his heart pounding.
"Cultivation," Captain Wei began, "is the art of refining the body and spirit to transcend mortal limits. It's divided into major realms, each a mountain you must climb. The first is Qi Condensation—gathering spiritual energy into your dantian, building a foundation. I've been stuck at the eighth layer for twelve years." His voice held a note of bitterness. "Above that is Foundation Establishment, then Core Formation, and so on. You'll meet Foundation Establishment elders at the sects. Core Formation? Those are legends you hear about in stories."
He picked up a pebble and tossed it into the stream. "The Sect Selection is simple. You'll line up with thousands of other hopefuls. An elder will place a spirit-testing stone in your hands. If you have a spiritual root, the stone will glow. The brighter and purer the color, the better your root. That's it. If you don't have a root, you're sent away. No second chances."
"One in a hundred thousand," Su Yang murmured.
Captain Wei nodded grimly. "And even if you have a root, the quality determines everything. A low-grade root might get you into a minor sect as an outer disciple, scrubbing toilets for ten years before you're allowed a single technique. A mid-grade root might earn you a proper master. A high-grade root…" He shook his head. "Those are the ones the great sects fight over. Heaven's chosen."
He glanced at Su Yang's earnest face and sighed. "You're tall for your age. Good bone structure. If cultivation doesn't work out, you could always become a mercenary. You've got the look."
Su Yang was, indeed, tall for fourteen—though he'd learned to claim sixteen when asked, as the caravan assumed. He had his father's sturdy frame and his mother's finer features, a combination that had already begun to turn heads. His hair was black as ink, pulled back with a simple leather cord, and his eyes were a striking bright brown, almost amber in the firelight, sharp and observant. He was handsome in a way that felt accidental, as if the world had decided to compensate for his circumstances.
Before he could respond, a voice cut through the evening air. "Captain Wei, are you frightening the help again?"
Su Yang turned.
A young woman was walking toward them from the largest wagon, a lantern swinging from her hand. She was perhaps sixteen, and the moment Su Yang's eyes fell on her, his thoughts scattered like startled birds.
She was, without exaggeration, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Her hair was the color of autumn flames—a cascade of rich, fiery red that caught the lantern light and seemed to burn. It tumbled past her shoulders in loose waves, held back from her face by a simple silver clasp. Her skin was fair as fresh snow, almost luminous in the gathering dusk, and her features were sculpted with a perfection that seemed beyond nature: high cheekbones, a small straight nose, lips the color of ripe cherries. But it was her eyes that held him—large, uptilted phoenix eyes the color of warm amber, framed by thick lashes, carrying within them both the arrogance of a young mistress and a spark of keen intelligence.
She wore traveling clothes—a practical blue robe with silver embroidery at the cuffs—but even in such simple attire, she moved with a natural grace that made the robes seem like court garments. There was a warmth to her presence, a subtle heat that Su Yang could almost feel radiating from her skin, as if she carried a small sun within her chest.
Captain Wei rose and gave a slight bow. "Young Miss Li. I was merely answering the boy's questions. He's heading to the Sect Selection."
The young miss—Li Ling'er—turned her gaze to Su Yang. Her phoenix eyes swept over him with frank curiosity, lingering for a moment on his face.
"You're the doctor's assistant who joined us at the Jade River," she said. It wasn't a question. "Old Liu says you've already corrected three errors in his cargo accounts."
Su Yang dipped his head, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I only noticed a few discrepancies, Miss Li. Old Liu is very thorough."
"He's also half-blind and drinks too much," she said dryly. "But he's family, so we keep him." She settled onto a nearby rock with practiced ease, the lantern casting warm light across her features. "So. You want to cultivate. Join a sect. Become an immortal."
"Yes."
She tilted her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. "And what do you know about the sects?"
"Nothing," Su Yang admitted. "I only just learned about the spirit-testing stone."
Li Ling'er exchanged a glance with Captain Wei, who shrugged. "The boy's from a village. He's not entirely ignorant—he reads and writes well—but cultivation is new to him."
"Then let me enlighten you." Li Ling'er folded her hands in her lap. "There are three great sects in the central province. The Jade Sword Sect is the oldest, focused on martial cultivation and sword arts. They value discipline and combat strength above all. The Mystic Dawn Sect specializes in alchemy and pill refinement—if you have talent for herb lore, that might suit you. And the Celestial Harmony Sect is the most exclusive; they train in formations and spiritual arts, but they only accept disciples with high-grade roots."
She paused, watching his reaction. "Beyond these, there are a dozen minor sects. The Violet Cauldron Sect, the Mountain's Grace Sect, the Northern Sky Pavilion… They're easier to enter, but their resources are limited. A talented disciple can still rise far, but it's an uphill battle."
Su Yang absorbed the information, filing it away. "Which sect are you aiming for, Miss Li?"
A flicker of something—ambition, perhaps—crossed her features. "My family has already made arrangements with the Mystic Dawn Sect. I possess a mid-grade fire spiritual root, which makes me suitable for alchemy. Fire is essential for the pill furnace." She raised a hand, and between her fingers, a tiny spark of red-gold flame flickered into existence, dancing across her skin before vanishing. "If I pass the formal test, I'll enter as a direct disciple under Elder Bai."
"Direct disciple," Captain Wei added, "means she skips the outer disciple grind. Not many get that privilege."
Li Ling'er's expression didn't change, but Su Yang sensed steel beneath her elegant composure. "Privilege comes with expectation," she said quietly. "If I fail to meet Elder Bai's standards, I become a greater embarrassment than if I'd never tested at all."
She rose, brushing dust from her robes. "You're traveling with us to Yunzhou. The Sect Selection begins in three weeks. Until then, you'll stay with the caravan. Captain Wei can teach you the basics of spiritual perception—it won't help you pass the test, but it will prepare you for what comes after, if you do."
Su Yang blinked. "You would do that for a stranger?"
Her phoenix eyes glinted in the lantern light, and for a moment, the warmth in her gaze seemed almost… personal. "Consider it an investment. If you fail, I've lost nothing. If you succeed, I've made an acquaintance who owes me a favor. Merchants think in terms of risk and reward, Su Yang."
She turned and walked back toward her wagon, her fiery hair swaying behind her like a banner. Captain Wei let out a low whistle.
"That girl," he said, shaking his head. "She's sharper than most cultivators I know. And twice as dangerous." He clapped Su Yang on the shoulder. "Come. Tomorrow I'll show you how to feel for spiritual energy. It's not much, but it's better than walking in blind."
---
The journey to Yunzhou took thirty-one days.
Under Captain Wei's gruff tutelage, Su Yang learned to sit in stillness, to quiet his mind, to reach for the invisible current that supposedly flowed through all things. He felt nothing—no spark, no warmth, no connection—but he practiced every evening, stubborn and methodical.
Li Ling'er would sometimes join them, offering insights Captain Wei lacked. She had received a proper education in cultivation theory, and she explained the meridians, the dantian, the nature of spiritual roots with the clarity of a born teacher. Su Yang soaked up every word, committing them to memory like the formulas and herb lists of his past life.
He also learned, in those quiet evenings, that Li Ling'er was not merely beautiful—she was formidable. Her fire root gave her a natural affinity for destruction, and Captain Wei admitted that she had already begun rudimentary flame manipulation before ever receiving formal instruction. When she practiced, the air around her shimmered with heat, and the small sparks she conjured danced at her command like obedient fireflies.
By the time the caravan crested the final hill and Yunzhou spread out before them, Su Yang had a notebook filled with observations, a basic understanding of cultivation realms, and a burning impatience to know his own fate.
Yunzhou was unlike anything he had ever seen.
The city sprawled across a valley, its walls so tall they seemed to scrape the clouds. Beyond the walls, pagodas rose in tiers, their golden roofs catching the afternoon sun like scattered jewels. A river ran through the center, wide as a lake, and bridges arched across it like sleeping dragons. But what made Su Yang's breath catch were the lights—streams of color that wove between the buildings, trails of spiritual energy left by cultivators moving through the city, visible even to his untrained eyes.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Li Ling'er had come to stand beside him at the front of the caravan. Her voice was calm, but her hands were clasped tightly before her. "Every year, tens of thousands come for the Selection. They camp outside the walls, hoping, praying. By the end, fewer than a hundred will be chosen."
Su Yang's throat was dry. "And those who aren't chosen?"
"They go home." Her voice softened, just a fraction. "Or they stay, clinging to hope. Some become servants to cultivators, hoping for scraps of instruction. Most just… fade."
The caravan wound through the outer districts, past rows of makeshift tents and lean-tos where hopeful families had camped for weeks. Su Yang saw children younger than him, their eyes hollow with waiting. He saw old men in faded robes offering "cultivation lessons" for a few copper coins. He saw the desperate hope of thousands pressed against the gates of heaven.
The Li family had connections. Their wagons passed through a guarded gate into the inner city, where inns with actual roofs stood. Li Ling'er's servants had already secured rooms.
"You'll stay with us," she told Su Yang as they unloaded the cargo. "There are spare quarters in our compound. The Selection begins in three days. Until then, rest. Eat well. There's nothing more you can prepare."
Three days.
Su Yang spent them in a state of coiled tension. He walked the city's streets, watching the cultivators who moved through the crowds like gods among mortals. He saw a man in blue robes step from a teahouse and simply vanish, reappearing a block away. He saw a woman conjure flowers from empty air, tossing them to laughing children. He saw the gap between mortal and immortal, and understood, for the first time, the true scope of what he was attempting.
On the morning of the Selection, Li Ling'er found him at the compound gate. She was dressed in formal robes of pale green, her fiery hair elaborately pinned with gold ornaments that caught the morning light. Her phoenix eyes were lined with kohl, making them even more striking, and the subtle heat that always seemed to surround her was more pronounced today—perhaps from nervousness. She looked every inch the young lady of a wealthy merchant house, but her expression was surprisingly gentle.
"Nervous?" she asked.
"Terrified," Su Yang admitted. "But I've come this far."
She nodded slowly. "Captain Wei will accompany me to the Mystic Dawn pavilion. You'll go to the main square with the others. They test in groups of a hundred." She reached into her sleeve and withdrew a small jade token, pressing it into his hand. "If you pass, find me. If you fail…" She hesitated. "If you fail, come find me anyway. A sharp mind is still a sharp mind. My family can always use clever people."
Su Yang closed his fingers around the token, warm from her touch. "Thank you, Miss Li."
She smiled—a real smile, without calculation, and for a moment she was not a merchant's daughter with ambitions in alchemy, but simply a young woman sharing a moment with a friend. "Good luck, Su Yang."
---
The main square of Yunzhou was a sea of bodies.
Su Yang had thought the outer camps were crowded, but they were nothing compared to this. Thousands of young people—boys and girls, rich and poor, from every corner of the province—packed the cobblestone square. They pressed against wooden barriers, their voices a constant roar of nervous chatter. Above them, on a raised platform of white jade, sat the sect representatives in robes of every color, their faces impassive.
Su Yang found his place in line, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was tall enough to see over most heads, and he watched as the first group was called forward. One hundred youths mounted the platform, each approaching a stone pedestal where a crystal orb sat.
One by one, they placed their hands on the orbs.
Most glowed faintly—a dim, sickly light that made the sect representatives shake their heads. Those were sent to a side platform, where minor sect recruiters argued over them like merchants haggling over goods. A few glowed brighter, and those were directed toward specific sects with quiet words from the examiners.
And some… some didn't glow at all.
Those were led away in silence, their faces blank with shock or crumpled with tears.
The line moved forward. Hours passed. Su Yang's throat was parched, his legs aching, but he couldn't look away.
One in a hundred thousand, Captain Wei's voice echoed in his mind.
His group was called as the sun began to set, painting the square in shades of orange and red.
He climbed the platform steps, his legs steady despite the trembling in his hands. He took his place before a pedestal, the crystal orb cool and smooth beneath his palms. A sect elder—a woman with silver hair and eyes like chips of ice—watched him with casual disinterest.
"Place your hands on the stone. Do not release until instructed."
Su Yang's hands touched the crystal.
For a moment, nothing.
The silence stretched. He felt the stares of the other hopefuls, the weight of the elder's gaze. His heart, which had been pounding, seemed to slow. A cold emptiness spread through his chest.
No.
He pressed harder, as if force could substitute for destiny.
The elder's expression shifted from disinterest to mild annoyance. "Release the—"
Before she could finish, the stone began to glow.