The morning sun filtered through the wooden shutters of the dilapidated courtyard, casting thin streaks of light onto Ye Qian's lean frame. He sat cross-legged on the cold stone steps, his hands moving in a slow, rhythmic pattern as he circulated the Body Tempering Mantra. He could feel his blood surging like a hidden stream, his bones gradually hardening as they adapted to the constant pressure of his training.
Today was the day of the Ye Clan's annual Spirit Root Test. On the Azure Firmament Continent, one's Spirit Root determined their destiny. It was the absolute measure of a cultivator's potential. Based on these results, the clan distributed cultivation methods, spiritual medicines, and precious resources. Those with high talent were granted top-tier scrolls and rare elixirs, while those with low talent were branded as "trash," left with nothing, their path to power cut short before it even began.
Ye Qian had never allowed himself to hope for this test. His childhood had been defined by isolation and cruelty. The cousins of the First and Second Houses mocked him incessantly, and his father's heart was as cold as iron. His mother, Ye Qingyun, was his only memory of warmth, but she was long gone. Since her death, he had learned that survival was a solo journey. Every drop of sweat during his physical drills and every bruise from his self-imposed training told him the same truth: only the strong are allowed to live.
In the main courtyard, the youths of the clan stood in neat rows. The disciples of the high houses wore robes of fine silk, their expressions arrogant and dismissive. Elders and protectors stood on either side, their eyes as sharp as blades as they scrutinized the younger generation.
"Ye Chen! Ye Ling!" An elder called out the names, his voice cold and commanding. Every name called was a confirmation of status and a promise of future power.
When Ye Qian's name was finally uttered, he raised his head slightly. His gaze was icy and resolute, devoid of any expectation. He knew that in their eyes, he was already a failure. To them, his test was nothing more than a meaningless formality.
The testing ground was located on the Ye Clan's back mountain—a wide, flat clearing paved with bluestone and etched with ancient, glowing runes. Massive trees surrounded the area, their leaves shimmering with a faint spiritual mist. Here, those with exceptional talent could sense the natural Qi of the world, causing their bloodlines to stir and their internal energy to flow automatically.
As Ye Qian stepped into the center of the field, a wave of spiritual energy washed over him. Instinctively, he activated his Body Tempering technique. A weak thread of Qi flickered within him like a tiny candle flame dancing in a gale, threatened with extinction at any moment. He grit his teeth, calming his breath, focusing on the minute fluctuations of his inner strength.
"Ye Chen of the First House, step forward," the elder barked. Ye Chen walked up with supreme confidence, his hand touching the ancient Testing Stone. Instantly, the runes flared with blinding light. The spiritual energy in the air erupted like a tidal wave, causing the entire clearing to tremble. The surrounding disciples gasped, their eyes filled with a mixture of awe and burning jealousy.
Ye Qian sighed inwardly. As expected, the gap between us is like heaven and earth. But his heart did not waver. He understood that true strength did not come from the approval of others.
When it was finally his turn, the elder's gaze landed on him, filled with undisguised disdain. "Ye Qian. You're next." The voice was flat, echoing with contempt.
Ye Qian took a deep breath and placed his hands upon the cold surface of the stone. He closed his eyes, pushing his Body Tempering Mantra to its absolute limit. But no matter how hard he tried, the energy within him remained as faint as mist, utterly suppressed by the overwhelming pressure of the surrounding spiritual field. The runes remained dark. The stone was silent. It was as if there was no Spirit Root within him at all.
The elder's brow furrowed as he let out a scoffing sigh. "As I thought. A complete waste."
Ye Chen and the others burst into mocking laughter. "Ye Qian, you've been like this since you were a brat. Practicing is just a waste of time for someone like you!"
The other disciples joined in, their whispers spreading like a toxic fog. In an instant, Ye Qian became the laughingstock of the entire clan. To the Ye family, a man without a detectable Spirit Root was a man without a soul—a creature of zero value.
As the test concluded, Ye Chen and Ye Ling were awarded top-tier cultivation manuals. Ye Qian, however, was ignored. His score was so low that the elders didn't even bother to record it.
When night fell, a heavy silence descended upon the courtyard. Ye Qian curled up under the eaves of his shack, nursing the ache in his muscles and the biting cold in his heart. Suddenly, the old House Steward walked out of the shadows. His face was solemn, but his eyes held a rare trace of pity.
"Young Master, your Spirit Root could not be detected, but you must still find a way to live," the old man whispered. "The clan looks down on you; they will provide you with no resources. Therefore, I have secretly prepared this for you."
The steward handed him a weathered scroll and a small porcelain bottle. "This is a recipe for a Body-Refining Medicinal Bath and some basic Qi-gathering pills. It is not much, but it will give you the strength to protect yourself."
Ye Qian was stunned. Gratitude and shock flashed in his eyes. "Steward... aren't you afraid of being caught?"
The old man shook his head slowly. "No one cares enough to look this far into the shadows. The clan only sees what is on the surface. I am not doing this because I see great talent in you, but because I hope you can simply survive. If you train hard, perhaps one day you can stand on your own two feet."
He explained how to use the herbs to toughen his bones and muscles, and how to maximize the pills' effects. "Remember," the steward added firmly, "power is not gained in a single moment of glory. It is built through the accumulation of days and years of suffering."
Ye Qian gripped the scroll tightly, a cold fire igniting in his chest. If the clan would not give him a path, he would carve one out of the rock with his own bare hands. He would start from the very bottom—tempering his body, soaking in the medicinal baths, and accumulating strength grain by grain.
The night wind howled, carrying the scent of the wild wilderness. Ye Qian sat back down, clutching the recipe as he closed his eyes.
One day, he vowed silently, I will make all those who looked down on me open their eyes. My father, my cousins, and the entire Ye Clan... they will see that even from the depths of 'waste,' a true sovereign can be born.
The steward did not see the hidden potential within the boy; he only saw a child he wanted to save. But deep within Ye Qian's blood, a power far beyond Spirit Roots was beginning to stir, waiting for the moment of its awakening. Ye Qian's journey would be lonely and long, filled with unknown dangers, but it was a path that led toward the stars.