The morning sky above the Embercloud Mountains blazed in crimson and gold, streaks of celestial fire arching over nine majestic peaks. Mists swirled like ancient serpents, wrapping each summit in veils of mystery. The air shimmered faintly with spiritual energy—gentle, yet charged—whispering secrets from a time before memory.
At the foot of these sacred mountains, thousands of youths gathered. Some came in carriages bearing noble crests, others on spirit beasts adorned with silks and jade pendants. But most, like Li Yao, arrived on foot—dust on their heels, determination in their hearts.
Li Yao stood quietly near the edge of the crowd. His robes were threadbare and patched, his boots mismatched, and his back slightly stooped from the long journey. A scroll was tied to his waist—the only memento of a forgotten village, now buried in war and drought.
He had no clan. No master. No background. Only a name… and a hope.
The road to the Embercloud Sect had been unforgiving. Li Yao had walked barefoot through forests and marshes, braved beast-infested paths and freezing nights. He had eaten roots, drunk rainwater, and stitched his own clothes under moonlight. He had arrived with nothing but willpower and a quiet, burning resolve.
Before him stretched the recruitment plaza—an enormous stone lotus, carved directly from the mountain base. Each petal was a platform where disciples and elders of the sect stood in orderly formation, robes billowing in the wind. The center was the largest platform, occupied by a golden-robed elder whose beard was streaked with silver.
He raised a hand, and silence rippled across the thousands of hopefuls.
"I am Mo Zhen," the elder announced, his voice echoing like thunder through the valley. "An elder of the Embercloud Sect, guardian of the Fireline Records. Today, I welcome all of you who dare to dream. But be warned—the path of cultivation is not for the weak of spirit. You will be tested."
Some of the youths looked nervous. Others remained arrogant, arms crossed. Among them, Li Yao spotted several striking figures:
A tall boy in dark red silks with twin blades across his back—Yan Mu of the Redflame Clan, a known prodigy from the Central Continent.
A quiet girl with an icy expression—Lan Yue of the Frostveil Pavilion, whose family's influence spanned three provinces.
Mo Zhen gestured toward a long table set with glowing orbs.
"First test: spirit root appraisal. Step forward and place your hand on the crystal. Your affinity and root grade will determine your eligibility."
Murmurs spread through the crowd. Some were confident, especially those from cultivation families, having already tested their roots before. But for most, including Li Yao, this was the first step into the unknown.
Li Yao clenched his fists. Do I even have a spirit root? he wondered.
He tried to remain calm, but a storm brewed in his chest. He had heard tales—children failing the first test, doomed to return as farmers or servants. His lips pressed into a thin line as the line advanced.
Ahead of him, cries of joy and despair filled the air.
"Mid-grade metal root!"
"Mid-grade water root!"
"…low-grade fire root… qualified."
"High-grade wood root! Record his name!"
Each result was marked by colored lights and quiet murmurings among the disciples in charge. Several elders on the higher platforms occasionally opened their eyes when someone especially gifted appeared. A few even sent jade slips flying down—offers of personal tutelage.
Li Yao's turn came. The disciple before him, dressed in the red robes of the Verdant Sigil Peak, glanced at his tattered appearance with a momentary frown—but said nothing.
"Place your hand on the crystal," he said evenly.
Li Yao exhaled slowly and stepped forward. The orb was cool under his fingers. He closed his eyes.
For a moment… nothing happened.
Then, faintly, red flickers began to swirl within the crystal. The light grew stronger, pulsing like a heartbeat. A torrent of fiery Qi surged through the orb, painting it in shades of orange and crimson.
"Fire element… Mid-grade spirit root," the disciple muttered. He arched a brow. "Almost touched the High grade, but not quite."
He hesitated, then added with a small sigh, "Still, not bad. With a bit of luck, you might reach the inner sect eventually."
Li Yao opened his eyes slowly. He heard the verdict, and a tide of relief surged through him. I have a spirit root… I passed.
He stepped back, bowing low. "Thank you, senior."
To others, Mid-grade might not be impressive, especially compared to the superior or even heavenly roots being declared for the geniuses. But to Li Yao, it was everything.
He was recorded and directed to the next platform, where the second test would occur.
Behind him, the disciple shook his head. "Another one with decent potential but no backing. Pity."
As Li Yao walked away, a whisper drifted into his ear—so faint it might have been imagined:
"Observation complete. Spiritual root verified: Fire Element, Mid Grade. Compression capability… limited."
"Unlocking status interface… insufficient authority."
"Heavenly Dao Fragment Shard synchronizing… connection established."
Li Yao paused mid-step, glancing around. No one else seemed to notice anything.
A cold breeze stirred his robes. He blinked, shook his head, and walked on.
The second test was a test of determination.
Here, each participant was brought to a stone formation surrounded by ancient runes. They would be asked to walk across it—a bridge of illusion that projected their inner fears and regrets. Those who broke down were eliminated. Those who endured… advanced.
Lan Yue passed easily. Yan Mu grinned and strutted through.
When it came time for Li Yao, he stepped into the formation and was instantly engulfed in shadows.
He saw… a burned village. His parents, whose faces he could barely remember. Hunger. Solitude. Rejection.
And worst of all—an old voice echoing: "You are nothing, boy. Nothing at all."
He clenched his fists. The illusions roared, trying to drown him.
But Li Yao did not scream. He did not fall.
Instead, he whispered to himself: "I am still walking."
The illusions faded.
The elder overseeing the test nodded slightly. "This one… has a strong heart."
And so, the ceremony continued.
By day's end, only a few hundred had passed both trials. Each was handed a red token—outer sect disciple badge—and instructed to report to the Outer Pavilion at dawn.
As the sun dipped below the peaks, dyeing the mountains in ember light, Li Yao looked up toward the nine peaks. Smoke from the Sect's towers rose like offerings to the heavens.
Somewhere among those mountains were sword halls, pill furnaces, talisman workshops, and formation pavilions.
And perhaps… his destiny.
He had no powerful roots. No master. No guidance.
But in his chest, a fire burned quietly.
And deep within his soul, something ancient stirred—watching.
Waiting.