"Qiu, wake up."
His mother's voice pulled him from sleep. Yan Qiu opened his eyes and waited for the familiar heat in his chest and the tightness in his jaw. It didn't come. For the first time in weeks, he woke up feeling normal.
"There's an elder from a sect in the village," Luo Qin said. She was already dressed, her hair tied back neatly. "They want all children over ten to gather at the center."
Yan Qiu sat up quickly.
A sect elder? Here in Blackroot?
He ate his breakfast so fast he barely tasted it, then ran out the door before his mother could tell him to slow down.
The village center was already crowded when he arrived. It seemed like everyone in Blackroot had come out to see. Farmers who should have been in the fields, women who had left their washing half-done, old men who rarely left their homes. They stood in clusters, whispering to each other and craning their necks to get a better look.
Yan Qiu pushed through until he could see.
The elder stood near the old well, and he looked nothing like anyone Yan Qiu had ever seen. He was old, his hair was completely white and his face was lined with age, yet he stood straighter than men half his years. There was something about him that made the air feel different. His robes were simple, beige and white with a character stitched on the back that Yan Qiu couldn't read from where he stood.
Two younger cultivators stood behind him. One was a girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with a calm face and steady eyes. The other was a boy around the same age, and he was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, looking at the villagers without much interest. Their robes matched the elder's, plain but clean, with the same character on the back.
Village Chief Wang approached the elder with a wooden box in his hands. Some kind of gift, probably the best the village could offer. The elder raised his hand and shook his head gently.
"There is no need," he said. His voice carried easily across the crowd, clear and unhurried. "We did not come to take from you."
Instead, he gestured to the two disciples behind him. They stepped forward with large sacks and began distributing small bundles to the gathered villagers. Rice and dried meat, enough to last a week.
"Cultivators require less sustenance than ordinary folk," the elder explained. "What we have, we can spare."
The villagers accepted the food with bowed heads. Some of the older women had tears in their eyes. Yan Qiu watched his mother receive her bundle and bow low to the disciples.
Once the food had been distributed, the elder called for attention.
"I am Elder Shen of the Barched Wind Sect," he said. "We have come to test the children of this village for spiritual roots."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Yan Qiu felt his heart beat faster.
"Spiritual roots are the foundation of cultivation," Elder Shen continued. "Without them, one cannot gather qi, cannot refine the body, cannot walk the path. They are divided into three tiers: Low, Mid, and High. There are grades beyond these, but they are very rare. Even rich families hardly ever have them."
He paused to let the words settle.
"Any child with spiritual roots, regardless of tier, may attempt the sect trials in Dusthaven. However, there is a cost." He held up his hand, showing three fingers. "Thirty copper coins. This covers the use of testing equipment and administrative matters. It is not negotiable."
Thirty copper. Yan Qiu heard someone behind him suck in a breath. That was more than his father earned in two months of work. Maybe three.
Some of the parents were already pulling their children back, shaking their heads. Others refused to move, already thinking about how to get the money.
"The payment is not required today," Elder Shen added. "Only when you arrive in Dusthaven for the final selection. Today we are only testing for roots."
The children lined up one by one. There were maybe fifteen of them over the age of ten, a mix of boys and girls, and all of them were nervous. The female disciple had set up a small table with a smooth white stone on it that was about the size of a fist. It glowed faintly, pulsing with a soft light.
"Place your hand on the stone," she instructed each child. "Hold it there until I tell you to stop."
The first few children had no roots at all. The stone stayed dark under their palms, and they walked away looking disappointed. Their parents followed behind them, trying to say something comforting. One boy had low-tier roots, and his mother started crying from happiness. Another girl tested at low-tier as well, and her father immediately started counting the coins in his pouch.
Then it was Yan Qiu's turn.
He stepped forward and placed his hand on the stone. It was cool against his palm, smooth like river rock. He waited.
The stone began to glow. It was faint at first, then it got brighter, until it settled into a steady light somewhere between dim and bright.
The female disciple studied it for a moment, then looked up at him. "Mid-tier. Lower end, but mid-tier."
Yan Qiu stared at her. "I can cultivate?"
"You have the potential," she said. "Whether you succeed depends on many other things. But yes, you have roots."
He walked back to his mother feeling like he was in a dream. She was smiling, but there was worry in her eyes too. Thirty copper coins. They both knew what that meant.
"We'll figure it out," she said quietly, squeezing his hand. "We always do."
That night, the village was full of talk. Five children had tested positive for spiritual roots. Five chances for Blackroot to send someone to a sect. It was more than everyone expected.
Yan Qiu lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. His mind kept circling back to the same thoughts. The glowing stone. The female disciple's words. Mid-tier roots. He could cultivate. He could become one of those people the merchant had talked about, the ones who lived for centuries and lifted boulders like they weighed nothing.
But thirty copper coins stood between him and that future.
He thought about his father's cracked hands. His mother's careful mending. The way they counted every coin, saved every scrap. How could he ask them for thirty copper? How could he not?
Outside, the wind blew through Blackroot.
Yan Qiu closed his eyes and tried to sleep.