The morning Jin Wei turned six years old, his breath came out in clouds of white mist that reminded him of the ghost stories his grandmother used to tell before the fever took her. He sat in the back of the wooden cart, legs dangling over the edge, watching the familiar brown hills of his village grow smaller with each turn of the ox's heavy hooves.
"Stop kicking your feet," his brother said without turning around. "You'll fall out."
Jin immediately stopped, tucking his legs beneath him with the awkward obedience of a child who had learned early that his brother's words were not suggestions. He pulled the thin hemp blanket tighter around his shoulders, though it did little against the cold that seemed to seep up from the very earth as they traveled north. His simple gray robes, patched three times at the elbows where he'd worn through the fabric, offered little more protection.
His brother, Wei Chen, sat at the front of the cart with his back straight as a bamboo stalk. At nineteen, he was everything Jin hoped to one day become—tall, broad-shouldered, with hands calloused from honest work and eyes that never seemed to waver. Wei Chen had their father's strong jaw and their mother's dark, thoughtful eyes, features that made the village girls whisper and giggle whenever he passed. Jin, by contrast, was all knobby knees and ears that stuck out too far from his head. His own eyes were too large for his face, giving him a perpetually startled expression that the other village children had mocked relentlessly.
"Brother," Jin said, his voice small against the creak of the cart and the steady rhythm of the ox's steps, "will I really become a cultivator?"
Wei Chen was silent for a long moment. The road curved around a cluster of ancient pine trees, their branches heavy with frost that sparkled in the weak morning sunlight. Beyond them, the path began its descent into a valley that seemed to swallow the light itself.
"The sect accepted your registration," Wei Chen finally answered. "Your spiritual roots, though low-grade, are genuine. What you become after that depends on you."
Jin nodded solemnly, though his brother couldn't see. He understood what wasn't being said—that Wei Chen himself had been tested at five years old and found to possess no spiritual roots at all. That their parents had sold everything they had, including the farm that had been in their family for six generations, to pay the registration fee for Jin's testing. That Wei Chen had worked three years in the copper mines to afford the sect's entry tribute.
The weight of these sacrifices sat in Jin's chest like a stone. He wanted to say something—to promise his brother that he would work hard, that he would make them all proud, that one day he would repay every copper coin and more. But the words tangled on his tongue, and all he managed was a small, choked sound that the wind quickly stole away.
The cart lurched as the road grew steeper, and Jin grabbed the wooden side rail to steady himself. His grip slipped on a patch of ice, and he tumbled backward, landing in the pile of turnips they'd brought as additional tribute. Purple vegetables rolled in every direction, several bouncing off the cart entirely and disappearing into the roadside brush.
"Jin!" Wei Chen pulled the ox to a stop and climbed down, his expression caught between exasperation and concern. "What did I tell you about being careful?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Jin scrambled to collect the scattered turnips, his cheeks burning with embarrassment despite the cold. His hands, numb and clumsy, kept losing their grip on the frost-slicked vegetables. One particularly stubborn turnip escaped him three times before he finally managed to secure it against his chest.
Wei Chen watched this display with a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of years. He bent down and began gathering the remaining vegetables with efficient, practiced movements that made Jin's fumbling attempts look even more inadequate.
"The Cold Valley is not a place for carelessness," Wei Chen said as they loaded the turnips back into the cart. "The sect values discipline above all. You must learn to move with intention, to think before you act."
Jin nodded, committing these words to memory as he'd learned to do with all his brother's teachings. He climbed back into the cart more carefully this time, settling himself firmly in the center where there was less risk of tumbling out.
They traveled in silence for another hour as the road wound ever downward into the valley. The temperature dropped steadily, the cold taking on a sharp, biting quality that seemed to pierce through cloth and flesh alike. The vegetation changed as they descended—the pine trees gave way to strange, pale plants Jin had never seen before. Their leaves were almost translucent, and they seemed to pulse with a faint inner light that made Jin's eyes water if he stared too long.
"Spirit flora," Wei Chen explained, noticing his brother's fascinated gaze. "The valley is rich with natural spiritual energy. Even the common plants absorb it over time."
Jin reached out a hand, drawn by an inexplicable urge to touch one of the glowing leaves. Before his fingers could make contact, Wei Chen's hand shot back and caught his wrist.
"Never touch spirit flora without knowing what it is," his brother said firmly. "Some varieties are beneficial. Others can kill with a single brush of skin."
Jin snatched his hand back, cradling it against his chest as though it had already been burned. His heart hammered in his chest, a mixture of fear and embarrassment at his own thoughtlessness. Another lesson learned, another moment of clumsiness that could have cost him dearly.
The entrance to the Dark Rose Sect revealed itself gradually, emerging from the perpetual mist that filled the valley floor like a dream taking solid form. Jin's breath caught in his throat as the gates came into view.
Two pillars of black stone rose from the earth, each easily thirty feet tall and carved with intricate patterns that seemed to writhe and shift when viewed from the corner of one's eye. The gates themselves were made of some dark metal Jin couldn't identify, their surfaces etched with roses whose petals were inlaid with what appeared to be actual crystallized blood—deep crimson stones that glowed with subtle inner fire. Above the gates, carved into a lintel of white jade that contrasted starkly with the black pillars, were four characters in the old script: "Through Burden, Transcendence."
Guards stood at attention on either side of the entrance. They wore robes of deep purple, almost black, with silver embroidery at the cuffs and collar depicting twining rose vines. Their faces were hidden behind masks of dark lacquered wood, featureless except for narrow eye slits from which Jin could feel cold, assessing gazes following their approach.
Wei Chen brought the cart to a stop and climbed down, approaching the guards with a bow that Jin had never seen him perform for anyone. The bow was deep, humble—the posture of a mortal addressing those who had stepped beyond mortality.
"This one brings his younger brother, Jin Wei, for entry as an outer disciple," Wei Chen said, producing a scroll sealed with red wax from his robes. "The testing was completed six months past in the provincial capital. All tributes have been gathered as required."
One of the guards accepted the scroll with a gloved hand, breaking the seal and reading its contents with no visible reaction. After a long moment, he rolled the scroll closed and tucked it into his sleeve.
"The child," the guard said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Bring him forward."
Jin climbed down from the cart on trembling legs. He tried to emulate his brother's straight-backed posture as he approached, but his knees wobbled and he stumbled over a loose stone, barely catching himself before falling face-first at the guards' feet.
The humiliation was overwhelming. Jin felt tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back furiously. Crying would only make everything worse. He straightened himself with what little dignity he could muster and bowed as his brother had done.
"This is… the one with three-color spiritual roots?" The guard's voice carried a note of doubt.
"Low-grade," the other guard added, consulting a jade slip he'd produced from somewhere within his robes. "Fire, wood, and earth. Projected foundation building probability of approximately fifty percent. Assigned to outer sect agricultural division."
The first guard made a sound that might have been a laugh, though it was hard to tell through the mask. "Another dirt farmer, then. Take him to Overseer Huang."
Wei Chen stepped forward, his hands clasped before him in supplication. "Honored cultivators, might I have a moment to say farewell to my brother? We have traveled far, and—"
"One minute," the guard said, already turning away. "Then he goes through. You remain outside."
Jin felt the blood drain from his face. He'd known, intellectually, that entry into the sect meant separation from his brother. But knowing and experiencing were very different things. The reality of it hit him now like a physical blow—he would walk through those gates alone, a child of six in a world he didn't understand, surrounded by strangers who possessed powers beyond his comprehension.
Wei Chen knelt in the frozen mud of the road so that his eyes were level with Jin's. His large, calloused hands gripped Jin's thin shoulders with gentle firmness.
"Listen to me carefully," Wei Chen said, his voice low and intense. "This is your chance—our family's only chance. The path will be hard. There will be days when you want to give up, when the burden seems too heavy to bear. But you must remember why you're here."
Jin nodded, not trusting his voice.
"You are not smart," Wei Chen continued, and Jin flinched at the blunt words. "You are not strong. You are not graceful. These are not insults—they are facts you must accept. But you are kind, Jin. You work hard when you set your mind to something. And you learn from your mistakes, eventually." A hint of warmth crept into his stern expression. "Use those gifts. Be patient with yourself. And never, ever forget that I will be waiting for you."
Jin threw his arms around his brother's neck, no longer caring about dignity or appearances. Wei Chen held him for a moment—a brief, fierce embrace that said everything words couldn't—and then gently pushed him away.
"Go," Wei Chen said, straightening. "Make us proud."
Jin turned and walked toward the gates. Each step felt like it took an eternity. He didn't look back, because he knew if he did, his resolve would crumble entirely. The guards said nothing as he passed between them, but he felt their gazes on his back like physical weights.
—————
Beyond the gates, the world changed.
The mist that had filled the valley seemed to part, revealing a vista that made Jin's young mind struggle to comprehend what his eyes were seeing. The Dark Rose Sect's holdings spread before him in terraced layers that descended into the valley's heart like stairs carved for giants. Each terrace held different wonders—fields of luminous plants in colors Jin had no names for, orchards of trees whose fruits glowed like lanterns, ponds of water so clear and still they looked like mirrors reflecting an alien sky.
In the distance, built into the valley's far wall, rose the sect's central complex. Towers of white and black stone spiraled toward the heavens, connected by bridges that appeared to be made of crystallized light. Smaller buildings clustered at their base, arranged in patterns that seemed random at first glance but revealed hidden symmetry upon closer inspection. Jin could see figures moving between the structures—some walking, others simply appearing and disappearing in blinks of motion that marked them as true cultivators.
A woman appeared before him so suddenly that Jin yelped and stumbled backward, landing hard on his backside in the frozen grass.
"Hmm," the woman said, looking down at him with an expression that mixed amusement with professional assessment. "The new agricultural recruit, I presume."
Jin scrambled to his feet, attempting another bow while simultaneously brushing dirt from his robes. The result was an awkward half-movement that made him look like he was having some sort of fit.
The woman before him was perhaps fifty years of age, though Jin had already heard that cultivators aged differently than normal people. Her face was lined but not unkind, with high cheekbones and a thin mouth that seemed naturally inclined toward frowning. Her hair, steel gray shot through with streaks of white, was pulled back in a severe bun secured with jade pins carved to resemble rose thorns. She wore the same purple-black robes as the guards, but hers were cut differently—more practical, with the sleeves tied back to free her arms and mud staining the hem.
"I am Overseer Huang," the woman said. "I manage the agricultural outer disciples. You will call me Overseer or Senior Sister Huang. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not wander from your assigned area. You will not touch anything you have not been explicitly told to touch. Understood?"
Jin nodded frantically.
"Good. Follow me."
Overseer Huang turned and began walking at a pace that Jin's short legs struggled to match. He half-ran behind her, trying to take in his surroundings while simultaneously watching where he put his feet. The path they followed wound between spirit gardens and cultivation fields, each one contained within stone walls inscribed with glowing characters that Jin couldn't read.
They walked for nearly an hour, descending three terraces before reaching an area that seemed humbler than what Jin had seen above. Here, the fields were simpler—still touched by the strange otherworldly quality of the valley, but more recognizably agricultural. Jin saw rows of plants that resembled rice paddies, though the grains themselves gave off a faint silver luminescence. Workers moved between the rows, their purple robes marked with brown sashes that Jin would later learn signified their status as agricultural disciples.
Overseer Huang stopped at the edge of a particular field, perhaps two hectares in total, divided into subsections by low stone walls. She pointed to a section in the far corner, notably rougher and more overgrown than its neighbors.
"That hectare is now your responsibility," she said. "Spirit rice, fourth-grade variety. You will cultivate it, tend it, and harvest it according to the schedules posted in the communal hall. The quality of your harvest will determine your resource allocation. Poor performance means reduced rations and no access to cultivation resources. Excellent performance…" She paused, giving him a look that suggested she didn't expect excellence. "Excellent performance is rewarded."
She pressed a jade slip into Jin's hands. It was cold to the touch, and characters seemed to swim beneath its surface.
"Your quarters are in the eastern dormitory. Find an empty bed. This slip contains the Azure Harmonization Method—it is the basic cultivation technique provided to all agricultural disciples. Study it. Practice it. If you waste it, there will be no second chance."
Without another word, Overseer Huang turned and walked away, leaving Jin standing alone at the edge of the spirit rice fields.
He looked down at the jade slip in his hands, then out at the hectare of overgrown, neglected land that was now his responsibility. The weight of everything—his brother's sacrifice, his family's hopes, the strangeness of this new world—pressed down on him like a physical force.
"Don't just stand there, you'll freeze solid."
Jin spun, nearly dropping the jade slip, to find a girl standing behind him. She was perhaps eight years old, with a round face, sharp eyes, and hair cut practically short. Her robes were the same purple-black as everyone else's, with the brown sash of an agricultural disciple.
"I'm Lin Mei," the girl said. "I have the field next to yours. You're the new one? The six-year-old?"
Jin nodded, still struggling to find his voice.
"Well, come on then. I'll show you the dormitories before you pass out from cold or confusion or whatever's making you look like a stunned fish." Lin Mei turned and began walking without waiting for a response. "The others will want to meet you anyway."
Jin hurried after her, clutching the jade slip to his chest. The dormitories, it turned out, were a long, low building constructed of dark wood and gray stone. The interior was warmer than Jin expected, heated by some mechanism he couldn't see. Two rows of narrow beds lined the walls, each with a small trunk at its foot for personal belongings. Cultivation mats were rolled and stored beneath the beds.
Five people were gathered around a small brazier at the room's center, and they looked up as Jin and Lin Mei entered.
"New blood," Lin Mei announced. "Just arrived. Overseer Huang dropped him on the cursed field."
There was a collective wince from the group that made Jin's stomach tighten with worry.
"Come, sit," said an older man near the brazier. He was perhaps forty, with a weathered face and hands that spoke of a lifetime of labor. His robes were more faded than the others, patched in several places like Jin's own, but they were clean and neatly kept. "I am Farmer Shen, though here they call me Old Shen. I've worked this terrace for fifteen years."
Jin approached cautiously and bowed. "I am Jin Wei. I just turned six today."
"Six!" A young man on Old Shen's left shook his head in disbelief. He was perhaps sixteen, with a thin face, nervous eyes, and a constant twitch in his left hand that made him seem perpetually anxious. "They're taking them younger every year. I'm Fan Yichen. Everyone calls me Twitchy Fan, though I'd prefer they didn't."
"You shouldn't encourage that nickname by introducing yourself with it," said the woman beside him. She was in her mid-twenties, beautiful in a severe way, with high cheekbones and lips pressed into a permanent thin line of disapproval. Her hair was elaborately styled despite their humble surroundings, pinned up with what appeared to be actual silver ornaments. "I am Luo Qiang. I have been here for seven years, and I maintain the second-highest harvest quality rating on this terrace."
"Second-highest," muttered a broad-shouldered man leaning against the far wall. He was perhaps thirty, heavily muscled with sun-darkened skin and a shaved head covered in what appeared to be old burn scars. "Because first-highest is mine. I'm Da Feng. Don't touch my tools, don't walk through my field, and we'll get along fine."
The last member of the group was a boy only a few years older than Jin—perhaps nine or ten. He was remarkably handsome, with delicate features that seemed almost too refined for their rough surroundings. His robes were notably cleaner than the others, and he carried himself with an air of practiced grace that made Jin immediately conscious of his own awkwardness.
"Zhou Tianyu," the boy said, barely glancing at Jin. "I won't be here long. My spiritual roots are low-grade, but my family has connections. I'll be transferred to the combat division within the year."
There was a moment of awkward silence following this pronouncement. Lin Mei rolled her eyes expressively.
"Now you've met everyone," she said. "There are others on this terrace, but these are the ones closest to your field. We share cultivation resources, help with each other's harvests during busy times, and generally try not to kill each other despite Zhou Tianyu's best efforts to be insufferable."
"I'm merely stating facts," Zhou Tianyu said coldly.
Jin bowed to the group, his mind whirling as he tried to commit each face and name to memory. "Thank you for welcoming me. I know I'm young and inexperienced, but I will work hard not to be a burden."
Old Shen smiled, the expression crinkling the weathered lines of his face into something warm and almost fatherly. "That's all any of us can promise, young one. Now, have you attuned to your cultivation method yet? Best to do it before you rest—the process can be disorienting, and you'll need your energy tomorrow."
Jin looked down at the jade slip still clutched in his hands. "No, I… I don't know how."
"Hold it against your forehead and push your awareness into it," Lin Mei instructed, sitting down on a nearby bed. "It feels strange the first time. Like having water poured directly into your brain."
Jin settled onto an empty bed—the one closest to the door, which the others had apparently avoided, though he didn't understand why—and pressed the cool jade against his forehead. He closed his eyes and tried to push his awareness forward, though he wasn't entirely sure what that meant.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, sensations flooded his consciousness.
It was exactly like Lin Mei had described—like cold water pouring through his mind, filling spaces he hadn't known existed. Words appeared in his thoughts, not written but somehow known, describing breathing patterns and energy circulation routes and concepts that slid just beyond his understanding.
And then, beneath all of it, a single line of text that seemed different from the rest. Simpler. Clearer. As if it were written specifically for him to see:
[Azure Harmonization Method - Current Efficiency: 15%]
Jin gasped, his eyes flying open. The jade slip fell from his hands, clattering to the floor.
"Breathe," Old Shen said calmly. "The first attunement is always overwhelming. Take your time."
But Jin wasn't overwhelmed by the cultivation technique. He was staring at the strange text that still floated in his mind, visible even with his eyes open—a small notification in the corner of his vision that pulsed with quiet insistence.
He closed his eyes again, focusing on the text. As he examined it, more details became available to him:
[Azure Harmonization Method][Current Efficiency: 15%][Breathing Pattern: Standard (Suboptimal)][Energy Circulation Route: Default (Suboptimal)][Posture: Untrained (Suboptimal)][Adjust parameters to improve efficiency]
Jin's heart began to race. He didn't fully understand what he was seeing, but some instinct told him that this was important—that this was something unique, something the others didn't have. He tried adjusting the breathing pattern, imagining it deeper, slower. The efficiency number flickered:
[Current Efficiency: 16%]
He tried again, experimenting with the circulation route, imagining the energy moving through a slightly different path. Another flicker:
[Current Efficiency: 17%]
"Jin Wei?" Old Shen's voice broke through his concentration. "Are you alright? Your face has gone very pale."
Jin opened his eyes, blinking away the disorientation. The text remained in the corner of his vision, a constant presence that he was already learning to look past.
"Yes," he said, surprised by how steady his voice sounded. "I think… I think I understand the basics now."
He didn't mention the efficiency tracker. Some deep instinct warned him to keep that secret, at least until he understood what it truly meant.
That night, after the others had fallen asleep, Jin lay awake in his narrow bed, staring at the shadowed ceiling. His birthday had begun in the familiar comfort of his village, surrounded by family. It was ending in a strange place, surrounded by strangers, with a mysterious text floating in his mind and a hectare of troubled spirit rice waiting for him in the morning.
He was scared. He was overwhelmed. He had already stumbled and fumbled and embarrassed himself more times than he could count in a single day.
But for the first time, beneath the fear and confusion, Jin felt something else. A spark of possibility. A hint that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as helpless as everyone—including himself—believed.
[Current Efficiency: 17%]
It was a start.
—————
End of Chapter One