The crowd's cheers dimmed to a low murmur in Lao Xie's mind as his gaze lingered on the stage. The sunlight above the arena seemed to ripple, bending like water disturbed by an unseen hand. For an instant, it felt as though the world itself blurred at the edges—until a distant echo stirred within him, pulling loose threads he thought he had buried long ago.
It carried him back almost ten years, to a humble hut perched on the edge of a mountain stream. The scent of damp earth, the soft rustle of leaves, the faint hum of cicadas in the summer heat—all of it came rushing in with startling clarity.
Two boys sat on the worn wooden steps outside that hut, knees drawn close to their chests. One traced idle shapes into the dirt with a stick, each line deepening as if carving meaning into the earth itself. The other kicked his legs in the air, energy spilling from every careless swing as he spoke in a voice full of life.
The sun was sinking low, painting the sky in shades of orange and crimson. Shadows stretched long across the steps, yet neither boy seemed in a hurry to move.
Kid Ming Yu leaned back on his hands, chin tilted toward the clouds, his bright eyes catching the fading light. "Brother Lao," he said suddenly, his tone filled with boyish wonder, "do you ever wonder what it feels like to fly? Not just jumping off rocks like last time—but really fly, above the clouds?"
Kid Lao Xie glanced at him, his face unreadable. "Above the clouds? Hm. Sounds cold."
"Cold?" Kid Ming Yu laughed, the sound crisp and boyish. "No, it must feel like freedom! Like the wind carrying you wherever you want to go." He closed his eyes, lifting his chin as if already soaring through the heavens. "One day, I'll fly all the way to the capital. Maybe even beyond the mountains. People will look up and say, 'There goes Ming Yu, the strongest cultivator under heaven!'"
Kid Lao Xie tapped the stick against the dirt, watching him with a faint smile that never quite reached his eyes. "Strongest under heaven? That's a big dream."
"Dreams are supposed to be big," Kid Ming Yu shot back, grinning. "What about you, Brother Lao? What do you want?"
Kid Lao Xie hesitated, his stick freezing mid-circle. He looked toward the stream where the water glimmered like molten silver under the evening light. After a long pause, he murmured, "I want… to keep living."
Kid Ming Yu blinked, caught off guard by the weight in those words. "That's it?"
"That's it." Kid Lao Xie's tone was flat, but his fingers tightened on the stick.
The younger boy tilted his head, frowning. "You're strange sometimes, you know that?"
"Maybe." A wry curve touched Kid Lao Xie's lips. "But it's the truth."
"Hmph. Fine, fine! Don't tell me if you don't want to." Kid Ming Yu puffed his cheeks in mock annoyance, then grinned again, bright as sunlight breaking through clouds. "But once we pass the talent evaluation, you'll want more than just living. You'll see."
He laughed, his voice brimming with certainty, as if the heavens themselves had promised him that future.
"Brother Lao, Brother Lao—what do you think the test will be like? How many lights do you think you'll light up?" His eyes sparkled with excitement.
Kid Lao Xie stilled, his stick pausing mid-stroke. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand why this boy always asked questions he didn't care to answer. "Talent evaluation test?" He feigned a light chuckle. "Oh, that one… maybe two? Or three?"
"Stop lying!" The boy puffed his cheeks in mock anger, his voice rising in protest. "Elder Yao said the Sect Master himself brought you here. There's no way you don't have some amazing talent."
"Hmph. Elder Yao told you that?" Kid Lao Xie's brows twitched, a faint crease forming on his youthful face.
"Why? You don't want me to know?" The boy leaned closer, grinning mischievously.
"It's not that, Ming Yu…" Kid Lao Xie lowered his gaze to the dirt, his voice soft, almost reluctant. "It's just… I came from the mortal world. Unlike you—born here, destined for the path of immortality."
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them. The wind stirred the trees, scattering sunlight across their faces. Then Kid Ming Yu broke into a bright laugh, his eyes curved like crescents.
"Everyone can be a cultivator! That's what my mother always said, Brother Lao! One day, we'll stand at the top together!"
His voice was brimming with certainty, as if the heavens themselves had promised him that future. Kid Lao Xie remembered watching him in that moment—the unshakable light in his eyes, a light so bright it almost burned.
Kid Ming Yu's laughter lingered in the back of his mind like an echo, fading slowly into silence. The glow of sunset dimmed, and the warmth of that mountain stream dissolved into a different kind of light—cold, pale, and sharp.
When Lao Xie blinked, the warmth of the mountain stream was gone. He was no longer crouched on worn stone steps but standing beneath an open sky, at the heart of a vast courtyard paved in jade-white tiles that gleamed beneath the noon sun. All around him, thousands of eyes bore down from towering terraces. The murmur of expectation thrummed in the air like distant thunder, swelling, pressing against his skin.
And there it stood — the Talent Evaluation Pillar. A monolith of stone thirty feet into the sky, etched with the weight of centuries. Eight star-shaped carvings climbed its face in a perfect line, each one glowing with faint spiritual qi.
They called it the Judgment of Stars. A ritual older than memory, said to trace its roots back to the founding of the Silver Crescent Sect itself. Every disciple stood here, stripped of pretense, weighed by fate.
The rules were simple — just place your hand on the pillar, and the stars would respond. One star meant barely acceptable. Three marked promise. Five or more? That was the territory of prodigies. Only a handful in the sect's long history had lit up to seven and only the Sect Founder managed to lit up all eight.
Kid Lao Xie tilted his head slightly, his gaze brushing over those silent stars. His expression was unreadable, calm as ever, but his heartbeat—he could feel it, slow and heavy, like distant drums echoing in his chest.
He drew in a steady breath and placed his hand upon the cold stone.
Gasps rippled through the crowd even before the test began. The entire courtyard was packed—outer disciples shoulder to shoulder, elders watching from raised pavilions, their faces stern yet expectant.
News had spread like wildfire that the Sect Master himself had personally brought this youth from the mortal world. That alone was enough to stir whispers of greatness.
"How many stars do you think he'll reach?"
"At least six. The Sect Master wouldn't waste time on a common talent."
"Hah, six? I'm betting on seven. Look at him—calm as still water. That's confidence."
"Or arrogance." Someone snorted. "He might not even light four. We've seen this before—big expectations, big disappointments."
A louder voice cut through the murmurs, filled with smug certainty. "You fools are blind. The Sect Master brought him here personally! That means he's no ordinary recruit. Mark my words—today, we're witnessing a true genius."