The mountain pass was a river of desperate ambition, and Li Chen was a stone in its current.
He stood in the long, shuffling line of youths that snaked up the winding path to the gates of the Verdant Sword Sect. The air was thin and sharp with the scent of high-altitude pine and the cold sweat of a thousand hopefuls. Around him, chatter buzzed like a trapped hornet's nest—voices laced with nerves, boasts, and prayers.
"...a Mid-Grade Spiritual Root is the bare minimum, my uncle said..."
"...if I can just impress Elder Feng,I could be taken as a direct disciple..."
"...I heard the last trial involves crossing a chasm on a single plank!"
Li Chen absorbed the sounds but let the meanings slide away. His focus was turned inward, and downward. Through the thin soles of his travel-worn shoes, he could feel the mountain. Not just its physical presence, but the deep, resonant hum of it—a slow, sleeping power that spoke of eternity and unshakable foundation. It was a more real conversation to him than the frantic human drama surrounding him.
"Next! Zhang Fan!"
A boy clad in silks embroidered with fire phoenixes swaggered forward. He shot a confident grin back at the line before placing his palms on the dull grey slab of the Spirit Root Testing Stone.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a violent whoosh, the stone erupted in a blaze of crimson light. The light was bright, potent, but it flickered and flared unevenly, like a poorly controlled fire.
"High-Grade Fire Root!" announced the senior sect disciple presiding over the test. His voice was loud, but his eyes were slightly critical. "The potential is high, but the foundation is... unsteady. Control will be your challenge. Next!"
Zhang Fan's chest swelled with pride, his eyes sweeping over the crowd as if he had already been crowned champion. He missed the disciple's subtle warning entirely.
Li Chen did not.
"Next! Li Chen!"
The call was impersonal, a barked order. Li Chen stepped forward without ceremony. His robes were simple, undyed linen, a stark contrast to Zhang Fan's silks. He placed his hands on the Testing Stone. The surface was cool, almost warm in its solidity. He closed his eyes, not to pray to distant gods, but to listen. He pushed not with brute force, but with a gentle, probing awareness—an introduction.
The stone responded not with a flash, but with a transformation.
From its core, a soft, ochre glow emanated. It was a deep, earthy light that grew steadily until the entire stone was suffused with a stable, unwavering radiance. It didn't pulse or flicker. It simply was, as constant as the bedrock beneath their feet.
"Low-Grade Earth Root," the disciple declared, his tone now flat and dismissive, already looking past Li Chen to the next in line. "Stable, but limited potential. You are accepted as an Outer Disciple. Move along."
A wave of subdued snickers passed through the crowd behind him. "A future dirt-digger," someone muttered, not quite quietly enough. Zhang Fan smirked, the unspoken hierarchy already solidifying in his mind.
Li Chen merely nodded. He withdrew his hands from the stone, the lingering warmth of its earth-affinity a comforting secret in his palms. As he moved to the designated area for accepted disciples, his fingers unconsciously brushed against the rough-hewn granite of the gateway pillar.
The stone was cool and solid. It had endured countless seasons, countless storms. It would endure countless more.
Stable, Li Chen thought, the ghost of a smile in his heart. Good.
A strong root never fears the wind. It bends, but it holds. And deep beneath the surface, where no one else can see, it grows, patient and relentless, building the foundation for everything to come.