— The Emperor's Imperial Record, Entry No. 4 —
The day had finally arrived.
I woke up before Huo Feng. My mind was too restless to stay in bed. I had to busy myself, so I started preparing for the sect entrance test.
As I moved about, I could see how others were also up and around, preparing.
Mothers scolded their kids to hurry and clothe themselves, flinging slippers after them with aim honed over years of practice.
We all hurried to complete our daily chores, this wasn't another ordinary day, and no one wanted to miss anything.
The test was set to begin as the first rays of light brushed the mountain. The sect itself did not have a fixed time that it gave out, but candidates were expected to assemble well before that, to gather in the chill morning air.
Once everyone was awake, and had finished their chores, we gathered around the comforting warmth of the fireplace and pressed through the muffled sounds of a quickly eaten breakfast, and an effort to calm Huo Feng, who was practically bouncing off the ground with nerves.
Huo Qinalei decided that it'd be best if we just left earlier than usual, but first, he wanted us to leave Huo Xue and Huo Mei with Yao Po, regardless of whether or not they were children. Huo Qianlei didn't want to risk having them in areas with people he didn't know.
They scarfed down the last of their food, breaths steaming into the cold weather like excited ghosts.
The walk to Yao Po was uneventful—just the occasional family in their best clothing passing by. It didn't take long to land them off with the healer, who seemed happy to see them, in her one-woman apothecary.
As soon as we left the girls behind, we picked up the pace.
The closer we got to the sect grounds, the bigger it looked.
I could see the sect gates at the entrance of the pagoda. It was a long, terraced building with multiple floors. The sect before the sect, the place that would either let you into the sect grounds or reject you.
The gates of the sect hung open, like a lazy prince sprawled across his throne. There was gold woven into the metal of the gate, as if it were fabric, and had streaks of blue and grey creating a pattern like shooting stars across a night sky, all through the metal.
It was attached to a long, circular wall that ended at the feet of the mountain, surrounding the whole sect and starting from the pagoda.
The stone of the wall was sanded and strengthened till it resembled the highest grades of marble, so that there was space from the wall to the sect, and there was a divider between the sect and the rest of the world.
Jagged stone teeth, inlaid with blue gold, crowned the wall, like lethal icing on a cake.
Mist curled around the top of the mountain, so all we could see was the sect entrance and the pagoda; everything above that was only a vague silhouette.
The crowd thickened until the sweat-lathered arms of the people around us brushed against ours, dusty sandals scuffed the earth, and the morning air turned rank with the odour of long-unwashed bodies. We were still only at the base of the mountain. Far from the sect itself.
Huo Feng and I wove our way through.
When we finally got to the sect entrance, a few moments after sunrise, we were met with the sight of a vast throng of what I thought to be at least a thousand candidates, not even including their families, each face tight with anticipation.
This was a moment that could alter not only their lives but the futures of their descendants. Would they remain peasants? Or soar to sit above even nobles?
As time tickled away, more and more families joined the swelling crowd.
Well before the official starting time, over two thousand aspiring cultivators had congregated at the entrance.
Nobles and peasants alike straightened out their clothes and fixed their hair. With a few ladies making sure to have put on makeup just in case.
Having no cultivators in sight yet, and only a couple of formidable guards present, most thought there would be an opportunity to grab their attention if you were especially striking or impressive when they came.
The air buzzed with excitement. We were crammed together, shoulder to shoulder, each breath we took forcing us to squeeze against the body of the next person.
When everyone had started thinking that maybe they had come too early, three figures emerged, draped in robes of pale silver and midnight blue.
Embroidery of crescent moons and constellations adorned their robes, while the disciples' attire bore simpler crescent moons.
To regular people, they might as well be gods. To those attuned to the flow of qi—the real experts, they were merely powerful mortals.
The elder, standing out among the three, his grey hair tied neatly, exuded boredom, his gaze sharp.
He spoke, his voice carrying through the gathering like a blade slicing through silk.
"Form three lines."
Like a decree, more people than I could ever count moved at once. Within moments, the crowd had sorted itself into three lines, ordered by height.
Huo Feng and I found ourselves in the third.
A jade podium shimmered along with a floating cube hovering above it that seemed to shift and twist when glanced at directly, the cube resonating to the tune of a faint hum.
The elder took centre stage behind the podium, flanked by the two outer sect disciples, who remained still and striking as statues. "One by one, you will approach me and this podium," he stated, his eyes peering over the assembled candidates.
The grey-haired man went on, "You will then place your dominant hand on the cube and follow my instructions. Understood?" The whole assembly responded together, "Yes, Elder!"
Even the thousands of family members standing to the side joined in, though they hastily silenced their conversations when the three figures cast disapproving glares in their direction.
The elder gripped the cube, spinning it into a rapid whirl as thick white gas billowed out, before stepping back, leaving the rest to the disciples.
One of the disciples, standing to the left of the elder, called upon a young boy from the first line to approach the podium and instructed him to place his dominant hand on the cube. The boy complied.
A minute passed.
"Undeveloped," the disciple declared. "Little chance for maturity."
The boy's face fell, his shoulders slumping as he turned back toward his family.
One by one, candidates stepped forward. Some met the same disappointment, while others didn't.
A girl, around 15 years of age, with blonde, curly hair and captivating green eyes, followed the same procedure. In a matter of seconds, the fog from the cube turned black with multiple white spots. The disciple on the right announced, "Star grade. Premium."
The grey-haired elder's eyes widened in surprise, and ordered the disciple on the left to escort the girl inside immediately.
Without a word, the disciple seized the girl and whisked her away into the sect's entrance hall, disappearing in a matter of seconds.
The elder returned to his composed posture, but then he instructed the disciple on his right, Ba Ren, to take care of the rest.
Whispers rippled through the crowd: Star-grade candidates were almost guaranteed greatness, given the finest resources and priority treatment.
They could even catch the eye of an Inner Sect elder—and with that, a future most wouldn't be able to imagine.
For the rest, the message was clear—be born extraordinary, or fight against impossible odds
The testing continued, and one by one, dreams were made or broken.
It was finally the turn of those in the third row, where I stood. I approached the podium, placed my hand on the cube, and followed the elder's instructions.
Ba Ren barely glanced at the result before speaking.
"Root grade. Subpar. Deformed. You've failed. Next."
Failed.
The word struck me like a blow to my chest, and my stomach turned. My fingers twitched, spasming as I stepped back from the podium, feeling the piercing weight of hundreds upon hundreds of eyes on me.
Shame and disbelief burned hot, clawing at my throat, affecting even deeper, reaching to my soul, but I swallowed it down. I couldn't let them see me like this.
I forced my face into an impassive mask. The cultivators in front of me did not even deign to give me a second glance. Thoughts of my father and my promises condemned my mind to despair.
'Had I already lost before I'd even begun?'
There was only hollow ringing in my ears, my internal silence only interrupted by the roaring rhythm of my heartbeat. I didn't know how but, I walked over to Huo Qianlei.
He met my eyes with understanding and said, "Don't worry about it, kid. The same thing happened to me when I was younger," He shrugged and let out a short laugh, "but my result was even worse – I received an undeveloped grade and couldn't cultivate at all. Might as well have the cultivation talent of a rock." He tapped my shoulder twice. Curtly, the whipped his head back to the podium, "Let's wait for Huo Feng to finish and join us."
As the testing went on, Huo Feng finally had his turn. Out of the thousands of applicants, only around 700 had the talent to cultivate, and 200 had the talent to cultivate properly, heightening the tension.
Huo Feng approached the podium. The weight of past memories and thoughts of vengeance clung to his mind like a vice. He took a deep breath, tightening his core.
This was his moment. He didn't know if he could handle another 'undeveloped' evaluation. Would he even get that chance?
The faces of his sisters—and his mother—flashed before his eyes. Their laughter, their tears, and the bruises that once marred his mother's arms. It all ran through him like a flame through a forest of kindling.
This was his last opportunity, and he was determined to seize it.
In a disinterested tone, the elder instructed, "Place your hand over the cube." Huo Feng acted almost without thinking, and the fog, as it had done for countless others, began to twirl around his hand, gradually taking on a light blue hue with flashes of white.
The elder's raised eyebrows signalled his surprise, "Oh?" He looked at Huo Feng properly, like he was seeing him for the first time, Sky grade. Premium."
Huo Feng inhaled sharply.
For the first time in his life, there was hope.
Huo Feng beamed with pride, turning to glance at his father with joy in his eyes.
His heart surging with an almost painful pride and sense of achievement. One day, starting from this one, he would be strong.
Strong enough to hold his head high, strong enough to exact revenge, enough to hold the severed heads of the ones who had wronged his family.
Huo Qianlei smiled and nodded, clapping his hands and jumping for joy, acknowledging his son's success. Huo Feng had been tested for his cultivation capability four times prior, and each time, he had been marked as 'undeveloped, with a chance to mature.'
Huo Feng promptly joined the ranks of the other two hundred or so cultivators standing to the right of the elder, a few steps behind the disciple on the right. After further hours of testing, the evaluations were complete, and only two hundred and thirty candidates showed the ability to cultivate to standard.
I watched Huo Feng walk away, his back straight, his steps sure. In the back of my head, I thought, 'Was this really it for me? Just a peasant's life?'
The elder, with a wave of his hand, made the podium disappear and addressed the candidates, "There is only one path to cultivation: spiritual cultivation through your 'Spirit Conduit'. But sometimes, you can force your spirit conduit to mature immediately. That will be the purpose of the next test. Do it at your own risk."
He explained that the next test would be a focus on physique.
The elder continued, "The test is simple. You will all be placed in our force generation array. Last as long as you can inside the chalk circle, and we will give each of you a red coin. Rub it when you are unable to endure any longer."
The candidates were measured for their weights, and the disciples recorded their names.
Subsequently, every candidate, regardless of their ethereal bridge classification, was led into a square arrangement marked with peculiar symbols and drawings on the ground, positioned at the square's edges. Inside, chalk circles were drawn to measure the force output.
As the candidates took their places within these chalk circles, the ground began to radiate a bright blue light. In an instant, the force within those circles increased tenfold. In less than a minute, nearly 500 candidates reached their limits, urgently rubbing their red coins to signify that they wanted to be rescued.
The two outer sect disciples—the one who had taken the girl already having come back, quickly went around taking the failures out of the formation.
As the force of the formation strengthened, a boy collapsed to his knees, tears cutting lines through the dust on his cheeks.
Another candidate vomited, the sound lost in the low groans of the failing crowd.
I held on, I didn't want to fall, even if I had already been cast aside.
Another three hundred candidates yielded after five minutes, and two hundred more after twenty minutes. An hour later, the remaining candidates found themselves unable to endure any longer, marking the end of the test.
No one was able to force their spirit conduits to mature.
But there was a next stage, it was more physical challenges, such as running from wild bulls and striking objects that were designed to fall on you if you didn't hit them hard enough.
Those who failed would be marked with a single black line across their forearm—a symbol of rejection and, much more than that, a sign that you had displeased the sect by wasting its time.
It would follow them back to their villages.