The sun pierced the mountaintops, casting long golden spears through the thinning fog.
Dawn hesitated on the horizon—neither night nor day, like the breath before a storm.
It was not yet full morning.
Yet already, over a hundred youths stood assembled at the base of the Jade Valley.
The pavilion loomed seven stories high, its pointed roofs jagged like fangs. It was the heart of the sect's outer ring and the ancestral seat of the Li bloodline. Every pillar bore the carved names of former patriarchs. Every floor had borne the footsteps of ancestors whose legends now shaped the sect's laws.
At its base, Elder Xuan descended the steps, his long silver beard brushing against his emerald robe. Complex silver linings glittered along the sleeves, forming ancient clan sigils. Behind him stood instructors in emerald and silver-trimmed robes—still and sharp as statues. And at the center stood the Patriarch himself, his flowing robe threaded in gold.
Around the square, the youths wore robes according to their standing:
White for novices.
Blue for outer disciples.
Red for the inner circle.
Grey for the servants.
And at the very back, there was one boy in black.
Li Qiong.
Once one of the Three Young Masters of the Li family.
His grey robe had long since darkened with time.
"You've all arrived early. Good," Elder Xuan said. "No need for words. Follow my steps, and mind the formations."
He turned.
And the youths followed.
Not into the pavilion's grandeur—but down, into the cold veins of the mountain.
The corridor sloped deep into stone. Carved stairs led them through veins of glowing mineral and spirit jade, bright clusters rooted into cavern walls. A quiet murmur passed through the gathered youth as they entered the hidden chamber.
The ceiling flashed with raw jade veins—untouched, humming softly with qi, like floating orbs suspended in still breath.
Li Qiong saw none of it.
Li Hongye and Li Wuji played with the glowing light, laughing while elders scribbled notes.
This was the place where the sect's founder had unearthed Jade Valley's spiritual core.
The path opened into a vast underground hall. At its center rose a natural altar.
Upon it sat seven spirit jades, each the size of a basin, glowing faintly:
Crimson for fire.
Azure for wind.
Brown for earth.
Blue for water.
Silver for metal.
Emerald for wood.
And violet for thunder.
Each stone hummed with restrained power. Runes circled them in an unbroken ring of harmony.
These stones tested elemental affinity.
The brighter the glow, the greater the talent.
Elder Xuan raised his voice.
"Those whose names are called, step onto the altar. Place your hand on the jade. The stones will respond."
A breath of silence passed.
Then—
"Li Yunhao."
A broad-shouldered boy stepped forward, head held high. His family owned three rice terraces.
He placed his hand on the jade.
Silence—then a flicker. The earth jade pulsed, faint as candlelight.
"Low affinity. Earth element. Next."
Li Yunhao bowed, face stiff.
"Li Yanjun."
The fire jade twitched. Then dimmed.
"Low affinity. Fire element. Next."
Li Qiong watched, silent, as names echoed and faded.
With every call, hope rose and fell like wind brushing through pine.
"Li Fangxu."
A lean youth with blue-silk robes stepped forward. He pressed his hand down.
Wind and metal pulsed—once, then again.
"Dual element. Wind and metal. Mid affinity."
The elders murmured. Pens scratched scrolls.
More names followed. More flickers. More silence.
Then—
"Li Hongye."
The chamber quieted.
A crimson-robed boy stepped forward. Gold-thread ribbon tied back his hair. Every motion brimmed with arrogance.
He pressed his hand on the altar.
The metal jade blazed. Thunder pulsed beside it.
"A genius in the Li family. Thunder–Metal dual element. Peak affinity," Elder Xuan declared.
Whispers erupted.
"A dual affinity—with thunder?"
"Heaven bless the Emerald Jade Valley!"
Cheers followed. Some choked. Others smiled bitterly.
Li Hongye bowed modestly, but his eyes glinted coldly.
He glanced at Li Qiong before stepping back.
Li Qiong didn't blink.
He had already known.
"Li Wuji."
A ten-year-old boy walked forward—quiet as falling snow.
He placed his hand.
All seven stones flared.
Then stilled.
Then the violet jade pulsed alone—three times—before buzzing, cracked with light.
Elder Xuan froze.
"Thunder... Fire element. Peak affinity. Impossible."
Another murmur rose:
"A second genius?"
"This is unheard of."
"Heaven's blessing on the Li bloodline!"
But Wuji stepped back without a word.
Even the stones seemed to fall silent.
More names. More silence. More disappointment.
Until—
"...Li Qiong."
Laughter trickled in.
"Still pretending to be human?"
"Wearing black like he's going to his own funeral."
"Still clinging to delusions, black-robed ghost?"
Li Qiong stepped forward.
A shadow among color.
His robe, once grey, had deepened to a dark ocean hue. His steps made no sound.
He placed his hand on the seal.
Nothing.
Then—
A flicker.
The emerald jade glowed.
Wood.
But faint. So faint it could be mistaken for nothing at all.
"Low affinity..." Elder Xuan began. "Wood element. Next."
Li Qiong didn't move.
Elder Xuan frowned.
He was the last
The crowd laughed.
Still, Li Qiong's hand remained.
Pain bloomed beneath his skin.
Old. Familiar.
This wasn't about testing affinity.
He was searching for something else.
A memory.
He withdrew his hand at last.
Elder Xuan made no comment.
But he marked something on his scroll.
The test ended.
The crowd began to disperse.
Yet Li Qiong remained at the altar's center.
Mocking voices echoed:
"Dead wood."
"Couldn't even light up properly."
"Dead root, no future."
"He won't open a single meridian."
"He's finished. The sect won't keep him."
They called him dead wood.
But some trees wait a thousand seasons to bloom.
The whispers cut sharp.
The laughter blew cold.
Li Qiong stood still, his palm on the jade that no longer glowed.
Then—he turned his head.
Silence.
His eyes, dark and fathomless, swept the crowd.
And then—he spoke.
Quietly. But it struck deeper than a thunderclap.
"Even the heavens shift,
yet people cling to permanence.
I walk forward,
not because I'm certain—
but because I must."
The laughter died.
The crowd froze, breath caught.
As if an immortal had glanced their way in pity.
Elder Xuan narrowed his eyes.
Li Qiong stepped down from the altar.
His steps echoed louder than the breathing behind him.
No one followed.
He walked with nothing in his hands.
But nothing is the mother of all things.
He looked like a saint who had severed all earthly ties.
No sorrow.
Only certainty.
That night, when he returned to his hut—
Fire had already claimed it.
Ash swept in the air. Char in fumes. Coal in cinders.
His only solitude—turned to ash and coal—gone.
Laughter rang from nearby.
His brothers and other kids laughing
He didn't ask anything.
He didn't need to.
He only stood.
Still.
Watching the last cinders fade in his reflectionless eyes.
The cold wind coiled like snakes, hissing against his skin.
Servants had tossed his things in the flame.
Elders didn't look.
Not even once.
They laughed behind his back—but it no longer mattered.
It hadn't mattered in years.
Rain poured, merciless it was raining arrows of droplets.
The clan turned away.
laughter and murmurs faded away.
The wind howled strong
A failed branch.
Fell from the tree.
Thunder boomed.
But Li Qiong didn't move.
He stood until the rain washed away his anger.
Until the lightning blinked.
Pain bloomed beneath his skin once more—sharp and familiar.
And when the valley fell silent—every lamp dimmed, every breath settled—
He walked.
Hunger gnawed his belly.
The cold seeped into his bones.
The ground was a coffin.
The wind—a thousand arrows.
He stepped into the forest.
Where beasts howled.
Where shadows moved.
Where paths did not exist.
The trees closed around him.
The road ahead was unknown. And dark.
But he walked anyway.