The Hall of Spirituality. With each step closer, Ling Ye felt a growing weight on his shoulders. His heart began to pound with nervous anticipation. Though his hands trembled slightly from nerves, his eyes remained clear and focused.
He and the outer disciple who had guided him finally came to a stop before the grand gates of the Hall. As they arrived, Ling Ye saw, for the first time in his life, others his age gathered in one place.
Turning to look behind him, he saw dozens of young boys and girls. Some were visibly nervous, others excited, each wearing expressions of expectation and uncertainty. It was the first time Ling Ye had ever seen so many youths of the clan gathered together.
As he stood there, taking it all in, the outer disciple beside him also came to a halt. He was quietly observing the same crowd of hopefuls and then looked at Ling Ye, his eyes become a little blurry and saw an younger version of himself in Ling Ye. Ling Ye watched him for a moment, surprised to see the man so focused starring at him.
But before Ling Ye could say anything, the outer disciple suddenly spoke, his voice low and calm, "Do you know how many actually become blessed with a spiritual root?"
Ling Ye thought for a moment, then shook his head.
Seeing this, the outer disciple smiled faintly, "When I was in your place, I asked myself the same thing. Just like you, I stood there, staring at all the others my age, wondering who among us would be chosen."
He paused, then added quietly, "I was lucky, I was one of the blessed. But many… were not."
Ling Ye furrowed his brow in confusion at the outer disciple's words. He spoke his thoughts aloud,"Isn't it written in the books that everyone who enters the Hall is blessed with a spiritual root?"
Hearing this, the outer disciple let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, "That only applies to the main family of the Ling Clan. You are naturally born under the heavens' blessing. But ordinary youths, who dont from a big Clan like the Ling Clan? They can only rely purely on luck. Only one in a hundred is fortunate enough to be blessed with a spiritual root. That's the harsh reality for most youths. The Hall of Spirituality can slightly increase their chances, but for the majority, it still won't be enough."
Ling Ye's eyes widened in disbelief. He was at a loss for words, but after a moment, he couldn't help but ask, "Why? Why aren't they blessed?"
The outer disciple chuckled again, raising his gaze to the sky. He looked at the drifting clouds for a moment before closing his eyes and replying, "I don't know. Maybe the heavens choose as they wish. Maybe there are laws we mortals can't understand. In the end, I'm just a Dust Expelling Qi cultivator, what do I know? You'd have better luck asking one of the elders of the clan."
Ling Ye had more questions forming in his heart, but none of them made it to his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, only to shut it again, unsure of what to say.
Noticing Ling Ye's conflicted expression, the outer disciple gave a faint smile and shook his head before stepping forward. Now standing directly in front of the great gate, he glanced back at Ling Ye.
"Place your hand on the gate," he said. "Doing so will register you and grant you permission to enter the Hall of Spirituality."
Ling Ye nodded quietly. He stepped up beside the outer disciple, took a breath, and slowly pressed his palm against the great stone gate.
The moment Ling Ye placed his hand on the gate, a faint blue glow outlined his palm. As the light gradually faded, his hand dropped back to his side, though he hadn't consciously moved it. Surprised by his own involuntary reaction, he blinked in confusion.
But before he could dwell on it, the outer disciple spoke, "Join the other youths and wait. An elder will arrive shortly. My task here is done."
Without another word, the outer disciple turned and walked away, never once looking back. Ling Ye watched his retreating figure with a conflicted expression, the man's words still echoing in his mind.
"Haa..." He sighed softly, and as the figure disappeared from view, Ling Ye became aware of the disapproving stares around him. He was still standing in front of the gate, blocking the entrance. A few youths snorted impatiently, others gave him sharp glances.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Ling Ye quickly stepped aside, earning a few more irritated looks in the process. He didn't respond, only quietly moved to stand among the gathered youths. But even there, a few individuals subtly stepped away from him, widening the gap between them.
Confused by their reactions, Ling Ye gave them a puzzled look, but said nothing. He chose to remain silent, keeping his thoughts to himself.
Time passed slowly. More and more youths arrived, gathering around the front of the Hall of Spirituality. The area steadily grew crowded. Ling Ye glanced around and made a rough estimate, there were likely over five hundred young cultivators-in-waiting now assembled.
As the gathering grew more crowded, Ling Ye began to feel warm again. He quickly realized the blue pill he had received from the senior, back when they flew to the Nine Peaks, was gradually wearing off.
From the murmurs of those nearby, it seemed he wasn't the only one. Many of the other youths had also taken the same pill.
This surprised him.
He had assumed the pill was something special, perhaps a small sign of unique treatment, but seeing others speak of it casually made one thing painfully clear, he was not being treated any differently.
As time passed, the illusion of being "special" slowly unraveled in Ling Ye's mind. But just as these thoughts began to settle, his attention was drawn to a familiar face, another young master of the Ling Clan.
It was Ling Shen.
Though Ling Ye had always been an outsider, rarely social and barely being acknowledged by the other youths of the Clan, he still recognized many of the other young masters and ladies. Unlike him, Ling Shen did not wait among the gathered youths. He stood directly beside the great gate doors, confident and composed.
And Ling Shen wasn't the only one. More young nobles began to arrive, each taking their place beside the doors, apart from the common youths. Ling Ye recognized all of them. Their robes were finer, their expressions calm and prideful. They held themselves differently.
Unlike him.
A doubt crept into Ling Ye's thoughts. He stared at them, unsure, "Did the outer disciple give me the wrong instructions?" he wondered, "Should I be standing next to the gate, like them?"
Even as these doubts churned in his mind, he didn't move. Perhaps the others were wrong. Perhaps he had been guided correctly. Or perhaps, even now, his status still didn't qualify him to stand at the gate.
He didn't know. So he stayed where he was.
Time ticked on, heavy and silent, until finally, the gate creaked open. From within stepped an old man. His back was straight, his long white robe fluttering gently in the breeze. His hair was grey, his face lined with the wrinkles of age. And yet, despite his frail appearance, his yellow eyes shone with an intensity that silenced the crowd.
The old man's gaze swept across the gathered youths. In that moment, Ling Ye felt as though those eyes had seen straight through him, his fear, his hope, his uncertainty, all laid bare with a single glance.
They reminded him of someone.
His father.
But where his father's gaze was cold and distant, the old man's eyes were sharp, sharp like a sword drawn halfway from its scabbard.
And in that moment, Ling Ye stood straighter.
He didn't know who this elder was, but something deep within him wanted to be acknowledged by those eyes.
"Okay everyone, everything is prepared. Form a line and we will enter the Hall of Spirituality," the old man announced. His voice, though gentle, gave Ling Ye the distinct impression that he didn't truly care about them. It felt like the old man merely wanted the day to pass as quickly as possible.
Still, despite the feeling, Ling Ye had no choice but to obey.
The instructions were clear, young masters and ladies would go first, followed by the rest.
Ling Ye glanced toward the group of young nobles ahead, wanting to join them. But the distance between them was just enough to make him hesitate. Instead, he stepped in behind a few other youths, and the line slowly began to take form.
"Alright, follow me!" the old man's voice echoed again, prompting the line to move forward.
One by one, the youths entered the Hall of Spirituality. As Ling Ye stepped across the threshold, he immediately sensed a shift, something subtle, yet unmistakable. It felt... strange. Not uncomfortable, but eerily familiar.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it.
The line continued moving, and Ling Ye quickly noticed something else: they weren't simply walking through the hall, they were descending.
The further they went, the clearer it became. They had already walked at least a kilometer, but the Hall above hadn't seemed large enough to contain such distance. That's when he realized: they were heading underground.
And then, ahead of him, he heard several gasps.
The line slowed.
Ling Ye's heart pounded in anticipation. His earlier thoughts vanished, swept away by growing excitement. He couldn't wait to see what had made the others react like that.
Finally, he stepped through the end of the passage... and entered a vast underground cave.
The sight tingled his skin and his breath caught.
The Cave was massive, easily the size of the entire Hall above. Yet there was hardly any ground. Instead, a still, crystal-clear pond stretched across the cavern, its surface so calm it looked like glass. Crystals, like frozen stars, hung above in impossible constellations.
And what a ceiling it was.
Above them, countless crystal-like structures, or were they stars? Glimmered faintly, bathing the cave in a serene, otherworldly light. Ling Ye couldn't tell if they were natural crystals or something more mystical, but their beauty reminded him of the fantastical scenes he had often read about in the tales of ancient cultivators.
It felt like he had stepped into one of those stories himself.