The morning of the Awakening smelled of incense and boiled millet.
Spirit‑Root Village rose before dawn.
Mothers fussed over children's hair. Fathers tried to look stern and failed. Younger siblings alternated between envy and relief that they were too little to be tested.
Lin Mei combed Xiao‑lan's hair with hands that shook.
"Sit still," she muttered. "If you wiggle, I'll tie it in knots and leave it."
Ifabola sat obediently on the stool, gaze fixed on the doorway where thin slivers of pale light crept in. Her stomach churned.
Not from fear.
From anticipation.
[QUEST – "SECURE ENTRY TO SPIRIT‑ROOT AWAKENING"]
Status: In Progress.
Sub‑Objective: Survive test.
Note: Local Law‑Entity (Elder Shen) present. System Cloak recommended.
"Do I look like a sect immortal yet?" she asked wryly.
Lin Mei snorted. "You look like a stubborn weed someone tried to drown and failed. That will have to be enough."
She tied a faded blue ribbon around Xiao‑lan's freshly braided hair—a remnant from her own childhood.
"For luck," she said gruffly.
Ifabola's throat tightened.
"Thank you, Mother," she said simply.
Master Yun arrived to fetch them, staff in hand.
"The others are gathering at the boundary stone," he said. "There are twelve this year. Fewer than when I was a boy."
"Fewer children?" Lin Mei asked.
"Fewer that live long enough," he said bluntly.
Silence fell for a breath.
Then they stepped out into the chill dawn.
The boundary stele was dressed for ceremony.
Fresh leaves had been tied around its base. Strips of red cloth fluttered from a makeshift frame overhead. In front of it, the sect's formation had manifested as a low, circular altar of pale stone etched with glowing lines. At its center rested a white, waist‑high pillar, smooth as bone.
That was the Awakening Stone.
Ifabola could feel qi humming within it from several paces away—a constant, subtle vibration, like the tone of a drum heard through walls.
[OBJECT: SPIRIT‑ROOT AWAKENING STONE]
Function: Assess latent qi affinity / root potential.
Method: Resonance with innate channels when blood and touch applied.
Hidden Layer: Script Node – Law / Name Subroutine (Dormant).
"Dormant," she echoed silently. "Of course."
Villagers formed a wide half‑circle around the altar, leaving space for Elder Shen and Lian Feng, who stood to one side in azure robes. Shen's aura was calm, heavy; Lian's flickered more restlessly, like a torch in wind.
The twelve candidates lined up: skinny boys and girls in their best clothes, eyes wide.
Ifabola stood near the end of the line.
Jiang—candied‑fruit bully turned partial ally—stood three spots ahead, trying to look arrogant and mostly succeeding. Jun trembled two places behind her.
Elder Shen lifted one hand.
Noise stilled.
"Children of Spirit‑Root," he said, voice carrying effortlessly, "today you will place your hands on this stone and let it taste your foundations. Most of you will have weak roots. Some of you none. That is not shame."
There were skeptical snorts.
He ignored them.
"Cultivation is not only for those who fly on swords," he went on. "Strong roots make certain paths easier, yes. But a clear mind and a steady will can walk far with little. Remember that whether this stone glows or not."
Ifabola's System underlined that.
True.
Elder Shen's gaze swept them.
"Those whose roots show promise," he continued, "may be taken to the Azure Sky Sword Sect as disciples or servants, depending on the elder's judgment and your family's wishes. Those who remain here will still benefit from simple breathing and body training. This is not a gate to worth; it is only a window."
Lin Mei snorted softly. "Easy to say from behind a sword," she whispered.
Master Yun elbowed her gently.
"Zhao," Elder Shen called. "Begin the roll."
The headman stepped forward with a bamboo list.
"Li Wen," he called.
A small girl with neat buns stepped up, trembling.
"Place your hand on the stone," Shen instructed. "Other hand over it. Look inward."
Wen bit her lip, did as told.
Shen pricked her fingertip with a slim silver needle and let a single drop of blood fall onto the pillar.
The stone drank it.
Light pulsed.
A faint green halo spread from her palm, lines within the stone flaring like veins.
Reading: Wood Root – Moderately Pure. Grade: 3.
Lian Feng nodded, making a note.
"Adequate," Shen murmured. "With training, she may at least reach Qi‑Gathering. Next."
Whispers.
Li Wen retreated, dazed, to her parents' embrace.
The line shuffled.
"Ouyang Fei!"
A boy swaggered up.
His blood lit the stone bright red.
Fire Root – High Purity. Grade: 7.
Gasps.
Even Shen's brows lifted a fraction.
Lian Feng's eyes sharpened.
"Potential inner disciple," he muttered.
The boy practically glowed with pride as he stepped back.
"See?" he whispered loudly to a friend. "I told you I felt hot when I breathed in qi."
Ifabola rolled her eyes.
"Hot air, more like," she muttered.
One by one, the children took their turns.
Most stones glowed weakly or not at all.
A few showed mixed colors—muddy yellow for earth, pale blue for water, gray for metal. Shen's comments were brief:
"Body‑strengthening possible."
"Recommend basic cultivation, farming supportive."
"No root. Focus on trade skills; do not chase swords."
Jiang's turn came.
He swaggered to the stone and slapped his hand down.
His blood bloomed a sharp, jagged streak of orange.
Fire Root – Impure. Grade: 2 (unstable).
The light flickered erratically.
"Temper like a broken torch," Shen observed dryly. "Can burn, can sputter. Train if you must, but control your anger or it will control you."
Heat flushed Jiang's cheeks—embarrassment or temper, hard to tell.
He stomped back, shooting a sideways glare at Xiao‑lan, as if she had somehow arranged the verdict.
Then it was her turn.
"Lin Xiao‑lan," Elder Zhao called.
Silence thickened.
Ifabola walked forward.
Each step felt like wading into deeper ink.
She could feel eyes on her.
"The sickly one."
"The one who nearly died."
"The one Master Yun fusses over."
She reached the stone.
It loomed almost to her chin.
Up close, the humming within it was louder—a complex chord of qi, tuned to resonate with any thread that touched it.
WARNING:
Local Law‑Scan Imminent.
System Cloak will attempt to mask non‑native elements.
Host should minimize external qi manipulation during test.
"Stay still," Shen said quietly. His eyes searched her face with that same faint curiosity from their last encounter.
She placed her right hand on the cold surface.
River‑spiral, hunger‑curve, Anchor‑Knot—all pressed against the stone.
A shiver ran up her arm.
Shen pricked her fingertip.
The droplet of blood that welled up felt heavier than it should.
This blood has seen two skies, some small, poetic part of her thought.
It fell.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the stone convulsed.
Not physically.
In resonance.
The qi inside surged, then slammed into something—her System's cloak, the river's wrapping, her stubborn Name‑Thread. Light shot up, not in a clear color but in a chaotic flicker of all of them at once: red, blue, green, yellow, white, then a strange violet that did not belong to this world's usual spectrum.
Gasps erupted.
Children shrank back.
Lin Mei clapped a hand to her mouth.
Elder Shen's eyes widened.
Local Scan Overload.
Law‑Script Attempting Categorization…
ERROR: Root Type Unknown.
System Interference: ACTIVE.
The stone's inner Script tried to label her:
Water? – Yes.
Thunder? – No direct.
Name‑Law? – YES/NO/YES.
External Thread? – YES.
Lines of code tangled.
A faint stress crack spidered across the pillar's top.
Lian Feng swore under his breath.
"Back," he barked. "Everyone back!"
Villagers stumbled away.
Shen slammed his palm onto the side of the pillar, qi pouring down his arm.
"Suppress," he commanded.
Law energy flooded the stone, damping the wild resonance.
Light fizzled.
The chaotic colors collapsed into a single, faint blue‑green glow that clung stubbornly to Xiao‑lan's palm.
Then went out.
Smoke curled from a thin fissure on the pillar's surface.
Silence pressed like a hand over the crowd.
Lin Mei's knees wobbled.
Master Yun's mouth hung open.
Elder Zhao stared in horror at the cracked sacred object.
"If…if it's broken, will the sect make us pay?" he whispered.
Lian Feng pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Probably," he muttered.
Shen ignored them all for a moment, eyes locked on Xiao‑lan.
She felt his gaze like a physical weight.
Her System's panel shuddered.
LAW‑ENTITY PROBING DEEPER.
Shield Integrity: 63%… 52%… 49%…
She fought the urge to yank her hand away.
Breathe, she told herself.
She pictured the river‑spiral wrapping the hunger‑curve, wrapping the Anchor‑Knot, each layer a story. She let her Name‑Thread lie limp, not resisting, just…being.
The pressure eased.
The System hummed, rerouting.
New Flag Written to Local Law:
"Lin Xiao‑lan – Anomaly / Observation Only / Restricted Access."
Shen withdrew his palm at last.
The stone's hum settled into a lower register, strained but stable.
He exhaled.
"Unusual," he said aloud, voice steady as if nothing remarkable had occurred. "But not…dangerous. The stone is old. It has seen much."
"That crack says otherwise," Lian Feng muttered.
Shen shot him a look.
Out loud, he said, "Root reading: Weak Water, with…unusual fluctuations. Grade: difficult to assess. For record purposes, mark as 'Water Root – Low.'"
Whispers exploded.
"Low?"
"After all that light?"
"Maybe it's bad luck…"
Lin Mei stared at him, incredulous.
"Low?" she repeated. "After nearly breaking your stone?"
Shen's gaze flicked to her.
"Roots are not everything," he said calmly. "Her body is still weak. Overambitious training would snap her like dry twig. Better to under‑promise. If heaven intends more, it will show in time."
Ifabola almost laughed.
He was…covering.
Downplaying.
Protecting her from eyes that might look too closely, too soon.
Law cultivator who knows when to bend rules, she thought. Interesting.
Master Yun's eyes were shrewd.
He bowed.
"As the elder says," he murmured.
Lian Feng scrawled "Water – low" on his tablet with a bemused expression.
The formal part was done.
"Those with roots of Grade 3 and above may present themselves tomorrow at dawn for selection," Shen announced. "We will take at most five from this village, as per quota. The rest should continue simple exercises and live long, stubborn lives."
His gaze lingered on Xiao‑lan again for a fraction of a heartbeat.
Only a few caught it.
Ifabola among them.
Later, back at the house, Lin Mei exploded.
"Low?" she raged, pacing. "That old stone sputtered all colors of a festival lantern. He poured half the mountain's qi into it. And then 'low'? Does he take us for fools?"
"I suspect he takes us for gossips," Master Yun said dryly, sipping tea. "Which we are. If he declared her 'heaven‑defying genius,' people from three prefectures would show up trying to steal her or feed her pills."
Lin Mei glared.
"Let them come," she said. "I'll bite them."
"If half of what I sensed is true," Yun went on, eyes on Xiao‑lan, "this is…not a normal root. Not something our usual manuals cover. Elder Shen is Law. He saw knots, not branches. He will not speak of it openly until he understands more. Or binds it."
"If he binds my child to some sect oath without asking, I'll—" Lin Mei began.
"Mother," Ifabola cut in, surprising herself with how steady her voice sounded, "I'm…glad he didn't shout about it. I don't want people staring more than they already do."
Lin Mei's anger deflated a bit.
"You should be proud," she muttered, stroking Xiao‑lan's hair. "Strange or not, that light was ours."
"I am," Ifabola said softly.
Inside, her System pulsed.
STATUS UPDATE – AWAKENING COMPLETE.
Realm: Qi‑Sensing (Name‑Weaver Initiate).
Local Registration: Water Root – Low.
Hidden: Name‑Root – ???
A new bar appeared, thin and silver, under her Spirit‑Sea measure.
Qi‑Realm: 0/100 (toward Qi‑Gathering Equivalent for System Functions)
"System," she thought, "am I actually…stronger now?"
Marginally, it replied. The stone's resonance shook your channels into slightly less pathetic alignment. Also, you successfully prevented a partial Law overwrite. This is not trivial.
"So I'm officially trash to them," she said, "but special trash."
Accurate.
She smirked.
"Good," she thought. "Trash is easy to ignore. Until it catches fire."
That night, under Ayetoro's sky, the hunger brooded.
Its attempt to ride Ajani's cracked anchor into the Nine‑Fold Realm had been interfered with not once but twice.
First by the little knot's crude plug.
Then by something in the Law‑Script there refusing to fully accept its pattern.
Name‑Weaver, it spat.
It remembered them.
From long ago, in that other sky, when certain stubborn cultivators had bound it with clauses like, "You may feed on this much and no more," "You will not eat those under this sign," "You will answer when summoned and depart when dismissed."
They had died badly.
But their threads lingered.
Through the System.
Through oaths.
Through one meddling river goddess.
If they think they can sew my jaws shut again with children's fingers, it thought slowly, let them try. Threads snap. Children tire. Worlds are long.
Still.
It changed tactics.
Rather than push more power through the frayed anchor toward Spirit‑Root, it began to pull more through Ajani, deepening its hold on the mortal cultivator.
"Take," it whispered. "Eat. Every broken promise, every betrayal, every time someone says 'I'll come back' and doesn't—you can drink a drop. Slowly. Quietly. No more dramatic hut fireworks."
Ajani obeyed.
Not because he trusted it.
Because he had tasted power.
Because the world had taught him that those who did not grab with both hands were left with empty palms.
Names began to fray around him.
Not yet enough to draw his neighbors' open fear.
Enough to make the air over Ayetoro taste slightly… off.
Back in Spirit‑Root, the Awakening's aftershocks took softer forms.
Li Wen's parents beamed, already dreaming of a daughter in blue robes.
Ouyang Fei strutted with his Grade‑7 fire root, loudly practicing imaginary sword swings.
Children with "no root" sulked or shrugged, depending on temperament.
Jiang nursed a bruised ego and plotted ways to prove the stone wrong by punching trees.
Jun sat quietly on a rock, staring at his reflection in the stream.
His root had glowed the faintest brown.
Earth Root – Very Low. Grade: 1.
Enough for muscle.
Not enough, according to village whispers, for glory.
Ifabola sat beside him.
"Are you disappointed?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"I didn't really expect to fly on swords," he said. "But…I thought maybe I could at least…carry medicine for Master Yun. Help beasts. Something."
"You still can," she said. "Roots aren't walls. They're…paths with signs. You can walk off the sign if you're stubborn."
He snorted.
"You sound like Master Yun," he said. "He said, 'As long as your arms work, you can splint a leg.'"
"He's right," she smiled.
He glanced at her sideways.
"And you?" he asked. "After all that light. Then 'low.' Are you…angry?"
She considered.
"Yes," she said. "At him. At it. At everything." She flexed her hand. "But not at 'low.' Low keeps hunters' eyes off my back. Quiet knots are easier to tie."
He blinked.
"You say strange things," he said.
"Thank you," she replied.
That night, as she lay staring at the rafters, the System chimed softly.
New Main Quest Unlocked: "Climb the Sword Sect's Ladder (Without Falling Off)."
Phase 1 Objective: Ensure selection as at least outer sect servant/disciple at Azure Sky Sword Sect intake.
Time Limit: 1 month.
Suggested Approaches:
– Impress Elder Shen with non‑obvious usefulness (e.g., stabilizing small formations, binding minor oaths).
– Leverage existing observation flag.
– Avoid dramatic Law violations.
"'Avoid dramatic Law violations'," she muttered. "You say that like it's hard."
It is often hard for you, the System replied.
She scowled at the ceiling.
Her mother snored softly across the room.
Somewhere upriver, frogs croaked.
Somewhere above, in mountain halls of stone and sword, inner disciples of the Azure Sky Sect sparred under moonlight, ignorant that a foreign script thread had just been entered into their sect's quiet ledger.
Somewhere else, under another sky, Baba walked back toward Ayetoro with a tooth of red stone at his belt and a prayer burning his tongue.
He did not know his daughter now slept with foreign law humming through her bones.
He did not know that Elder Shen, pouring tea late into the night, had paused, quill hovering, and written a small note at the bottom of his Spirit‑Root report:
"Lin Xiao‑lan – observe upon sect visit. Possibly related to recent Law tremors."
Threads tightened.
Knots formed.
The board did not know it yet.
But a five‑year‑old Name‑Weaver had just sat down to play.