The cavern was silent. Only the faint ripples of the spirit spring moved, shimmering faintly with traces of qi. Yet in the center of that silence, Xuan-ming stood wrapped in a halo of light, his body glowing like a lantern against the darkness. The children gasped. Even the clan elders leaned forward, eyes wide with disbelief.
And then, in a voice calm yet resonant, Xuan-ming began to speak not to them, but as if reciting a truth from the depths of existence itself.
"Awakening… is a mysterious force. It does not carve muscle, nor temper bone. It is not a transformation of flesh. No awakening occurs in a place unseen, beyond the body. It touches something higher… some call it the blessing of the gods."
The halo around him pulsed in rhythm with his words, as though the Hope Artifact itself affirmed his statement. He lifted his hand and watched as threads of light curved and coiled, like strands of fate weaving themselves into his palm.
"When the Hope Artifact responds, it explodes into radiance. That light… it does not destroy it shields. It absorbs the unbearable pressure of awakening, a burden no mortal body could endure alone."
The glow around him tightened, forming faint inscriptions in the air. A pressure filled the cavern, not the crushing kind of the spirit spring, but a dignified aura, one that made even the elders shift uncomfortably in their seats.
"Qi then flows into the Awakening Stone," he continued, his voice now trembling with restrained excitement. "From there, the path of cultivation truly begins. But remember this Qi alone is not enough. Only the artifact master can draw it forth, can shape it, can refine it. The artifact nourishes the master's soul, while the master in turn awakens the artifact's potential."
His lips curved into a thin smile, dark yet triumphant. His hand closed, and the strands of light disappeared into his chest, leaving only a faint shimmer in his eyes.
"That… is why a clan raises artifact masters. That is why an artifact master is the true foundation of strength." His gaze lifted toward the glowing cavern roof, as if addressing both the heavens and the ancient Creation God itself. "And today…"
He exhaled slowly, power humming faintly through his veins.
"…I have become an artifact master again."
The cavern was filled with whispers. The moment the glowing light around Xuan-ming dimmed, the academy elder stepped forward, his expression unreadable.
Xuan-ming lowered his gaze, his body swaying slightly as though the pressure of the spirit spring had broken him. His lips parted, and his voice came out hoarse yet steady.
"Just as I thought…" He forced a small, bitter laugh. "…I can't move forward even one step more."
The elder's brows furrowed. "You mean this is your limit?"
The crowd stirred. Children who had once looked at him with awe now exchanged glances of disbelief. Only twenty-five steps?
Gasps spread like wildfire.
"Impossible!" someone muttered.
"Twenty-five steps… that's third-class at best."
"But wasn't he supposed to be the clan's genius? The pride of our younger generation?"
"A poet, yes but not a cultivator, it seems."
Even Xuan-ray's eyes widened. He had never seen his brother falter. For the first time, doubt crept into his heart. Big brother… a third-class talent?
The academy elder nodded after checking the flow of qi around Xuan-ming. "Yes. It is as the boy says. His steps ended at twenty-five. By our laws of measurement, this means third-class aptitude."
The words were like a hammer blow.
Several clan elders frowned and turned to the clan leader. One of them whispered harshly, "Clan leader, so this is the truth. The boy is only a third-class talent. All those praises… wasted."
Another elder shook his head. "There is no mistake in the process. The spirit spring cannot be deceived. We all witnessed it with our own eyes. Cheating here is impossible."
Murmurs echoed across the chamber, the cold verdict of the clan echoing like chains:
Third-class.
Not worth the investment.
So the so-called genius is just another commoner.
The clan leader's gaze darkened. For a brief moment, disappointment flashed in his eyes.
Xuan-ming, however, stood silently. His fists clenched behind his back, hidden by the long sleeves of his robe. Inwardly, his thoughts burned with a devil's smile.
The chamber grew silent for a breath, and then laughter erupted like a storm.
"Third class!"
"So this is the clan's shining genius?"
"Hah! He writes a few poems and suddenly thinks he's destined for heaven."
"Trash should stay trash."
Their words cut sharper than any blade.
Even the clan leader's face turned pale. He leaned heavily on his staff, muttering under his breath, voice hoarse with disappointment.
"The more hope one places… the deeper the despair. Our Xuan Clan… is no longer the clan of past generations."
Around him, elders exchanged looks of resignation. Some pitied, some sneered, others merely shook their heads.
Xuan-ming walked out of the glowing spirit spring slowly, each step echoing like the toll of a funeral bell. The glow that once wrapped him had already faded, leaving behind only the mark of mediocrity.
Children pointed. Servants whispered. Even the ones who once envied him now mocked openly.
"Third-class genius? What a joke."
"I don't even want to see his fate. He's finished."
Xuan-ming lowered his lashes. His eyes appeared calm, but within, storm clouds gathered.
And then he closed his eyes.
The jeers around him blurred, faded, until he stood not in the spirit spring, but within the broken fragments of his own memory.
He saw himself fifteen years younger in his previous life kneeling on cold stone, clutching at the dirt with bloodied fingers. His face was twisted in disbelief, tears streaking his cheeks.
"How… how can this be?" The boy's voice cracked, a wounded animal crying out. "I am a genius! I have studied every scripture, every technique. I should have soared above them all!"
His fists pounded the ground. "This is wrong. The heavens are blind! With my knowledge I should have left everyone behind. With my talent, the very sky should have been jealous!"
The laughter outside still rang, but Xuan-ming heard none of it.
Within his mind, two shadows stood face-to-face.
The first was the boy he once was: knees pressed to the cold ground, eyes swollen red with tears, lips trembling with rage and shame. His fists were clenched, but powerless.
That was the Xuan-ming of the past.
He raised his head and spat words like poison:
"I don't care anymore how they see me! I hate them. I hate everyone our clan, our elders, the heavens above. They crushed me, mocked me, cast me aside. I hate them all!"
The present Xuan-ming stood before him, tall and steady, eyes glinting with a cruel serenity. His voice was calm, almost mocking.
"Hate, is it? You cry out like a child who lost his toy. Those people you despise so much… they're nothing more than insects. They believe their tiny clan is the center of the world. How pitiful. How small."
The boy trembled, but roared back, voice breaking with fury.
"You're wrong! You should turn away from hatred. You should rise above, accept only righteous help, and walk the path of light! Don't… don't sink into darkness. The demonic path will consume you!"
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then the present Xuan-ming's lips curled into a cold smile, laughter spilling out like rolling thunder.
"Demonic path?" he echoed, tilting his head as though savoring the words. "How… interesting."
His gaze sharpened, and his voice grew heavy, like the sea itself pressing down.
"In this vast ocean of time, I am but a small fish, tossed by currents. But I Xuan-ming, no… Xuan-sha will not drift. I will swim against the tide, clawing through waves that even gods fear. And one day, I will become the great beast that devours the sea itself."
The boy's image flickered, fading like smoke in the wind. His tear-streaked face twisted into silence, swallowed by the laughter of his darker, stronger self.
Present Xuan-ming raised his hand in farewell, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"Perhaps… there is a difference between us after all. You wept, I smile. You begged, I take. Goodbye, past Xuan-ming. May you rot in the shadows of my memory."