Awed by the cave, Ling Ye, like the others, froze in place, imprinting the scene deeply into his memory. But the moment of awe didn't last long, as more youths behind them began pushing forward, eager to enter the cave.
A nudge from behind pushed Ling Ye forward, gathering with the others before the glassy pond.
Now, with all the youths assembled inside the vast cavern, their eyes sparkled with wonder as they stood waiting, unsure of what to do next. Then, without warning, the old man appeared above them, flying calmly over the pond's surface.
His yellow eyes scanned the crowd below. Though his gaze landed on Ling Ye, it felt as though he was looking at every single youth at once.
"Silence," the old man said, his voice both gentle and cold, quiet but carrying the weight of command.
Immediately, the cavern fell silent. No one spoke. Some barely dared to breathe.
"This pond before you is called the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond," the old man began, his tone solemn. "It is a gift from the heavens themselves. The deeper you go… the more of yourself you allow to be drowned within its waters… the greater the blessing you shall receive."
A few confused glances flickered among the crowd, but no one spoke.
"Those who fully submerge will be reborn with a spiritual root," the elder continued. "The deeper you go, the stronger the root and your talent. But if you cannot even let the waters cover you completely, then you are not worthy. You will not be blessed at all."
The meaning of his words settled heavily in the air.
Ling Ye's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Drowning in a pond? It was the last thing he had expected.
"How strange…" he thought. But even though the ritual seemed bizarre, he didn't question it aloud. "The ways of the heavens are not meant to be understood by mere mortals."
He clenched his fists lightly, trying to suppress the nervous flutter rising in his chest.
With these thoughts in mind, though the ritual was certainly bizarre, it wasn't something Ling Ye would shy away from. After all, they were still being watched over by the elder hovering above the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond, ready to intervene should anything go wrong.
If someone were truly in danger of dying, he would step in.
That reassurance was enough.
The fear of drowning slowly faded from Ling Ye's heart, replaced by something much stronger, ambition. He didn't just want to survive… he wanted to outshine everyone else!
A confident smile spread across his face. He straightened his back, lifted his chin, and his black eyes shimmered with excitement.
He wanted to be the first to dive in, but of course, that wasn't possible. He had been placed in the middle group. As expected, the other young masters and ladies of the clan would go first.
"Hmph, let them have their little moment of glory," Ling Ye muttered to himself, his lips curling into a faint, mocking grin. "The moment I enter, no one will even remember their names."
The first young master stepped forward, entering the waters. As was tradition in the Ling Clan, he awakened a spiritual root without issue.
One by one, the others followed, each entering the pond and surfacing moments later with their own spiritual root. But none of them went particularly deep into the pond. Most only managed to receive a Mixed Spiritual Root, with a few barely reaching the level of a Pure Spiritual Root.
Ling Ye kept watching, and from the corner of his eye, he glanced toward the old man floating above. He could clearly see the slight frown on the elder's face, the disappointment etched into his expression.
That was… until one youth entered the deeper part of the pond.
As the ripples faded, light surrounded the boy and the moment his body surfaced, a glowing sigil marked his awakening. The old man's expression shifted at once.
"A True Spiritual Root..." Ling Ye whispered to himself, eyes narrowing.
"So someone finally broke through the pattern. Interesting..." But that didn't intimidate him, if anything, it made his heart burn even more fiercely.
This made the old man nod with satisfaction. Despite the many Mixed Spiritual Roots, a few Pure, and only three True Spiritual Roots, this year's group of young masters and ladies had been somewhat disappointing.
The elder sighed deeply and turned his gaze toward the remaining youths, a flicker of hope still in his eyes.
"Next," the old man called out, his voice calm but expectant.
The first youth not born into the clan's main lineage stepped forward. With slow, steady movements, he entered the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond. To everyone's surprise, he continued deeper and deeper, farther than most had managed to go.
At last, he could go no further… and in that moment, the water around him pulsed with light.
A sigil burst forth, and it became clear, he had been blessed with a True Spiritual Root.
But this wasn't just any True Spiritual Root, it was a rare two roots spiritual root, two intertwined aspects bound together in harmony. Such roots were rarely seen and held far greater potential than ordinary ones.
Gasps rippled through the gathered youths. Ling Ye, like the others, was stunned. It was common enough for lower tier roots to manifest with dual attributes, but for a True Spiritual Root to appear in this form... it signified exceptional talent.
This kind of spiritual root would provide incredible benefits in cultivation, it was a rare gift.
"Good, good!" the old man exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with joy. He even let out a small chuckle, clearly pleased with what he had just witnessed.
The youth smiled brightly and bowed to the elder, expressing his gratitude before stepping out of the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond. With such an impressive result from the very first member of the common born group, the next youth walked forward under heavy expectation, only to falter.
He entered the pond, but managed to wade only waist-deep before freezing in place.
"Huh? Why can't I move forward?" the youth asked, confused. But the elder merely shook his head and waved his hand, causing the boy to vanish and reappear at the pond's edge, soaked and disheartened.
"Next," the elder said flatly, his tone unchanged.
One by one, more youths entered the pond. Many failed to receive a blessing and were quietly sent back. A few, however, did succeed, though their spiritual roots were humble in quality, Mortal Spiritual Roots, and at best, Impure Spiritual Roots.
Even so, those who were blessed fell to their knees in gratitude. Their eyes brimmed with tears as they thanked the heavens again and again, their faces filled with devotion and joy.
Ling Ye watched them quietly and thought to himself, "These youths must come from mortal families... to them, even the lowest spiritual root is a gift from the heavens, a chance to change their fates. In the morning, a powerless mortal. In the evening, a cultivator soaring through the skies."
Moved by this thought, Ling Ye recalled a book he had read about the Founding Ancestor of the Ling Clan. That ancestor too had come from a mortal family, and through luck, or fate, had been blessed by the heavens.
From there, he rose to establish the mighty Ling Clan as it stood today.
With those memories swirling in his mind, more time passed. A few more youths were blessed, many were not… and now, it was Ling Ye's turn.
Standing before the shimmering surface of the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond, Ling Ye's heart began to pound. Heat surged through his body, not from the pond, but from within, a strange burning sensation, as if something inside him was stirring.
Just as he stepped forward, the old man floating above the pond looked at him with surprise and furrowed brows.
"Little Ye?" the elder asked aloud, confusion in his voice.
As the old Senior spoke, Ling Ye, still full of excitement, looked up and nodded, confirming the senior's suspicion.
Seeing that it truly was Ling Ye, the Senior rubbed his head, clearly puzzled. "Why is he not among the young masters and ladies?" he wondered. Even the other young masters, now recognizing Ling Ye's face, looked at each other in confusion.
None of them understood why he wasn't standing with them as usual.
"Anyway, go on," the Senior finally said, waving his hand dismissively. He clearly didn't want to waste more thought on it.
Taking that as the signal, Ling Ye stepped forward with a bright smile on his face.
Without glancing back, he placed his foot into the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond, Ling Ye unkownenly began to glow a little and immediately as he took the first step he felt as if his leg had been rooted to the ground.
Surprised by the weight, Ling Ye looked down. "Why does it feel like this after only one step?" he wondered. Still confused, he forced a second step. This time, it required effort, he had to channel strength into his legs just to lift them from the water.
Each step grew heavier than the last. The pond resisted him like a living force, pressing down on his limbs. Gritting his teeth, Ling Ye refused to give in to the pain.
"Grit your teeth… This is only the beginning. If I can't even endure this, how could I ever impress him?" he roared silently in his mind.
With all his willpower, he forced another step forward, the glowing light that Ling Ye radied shined more and more.
It was said that twenty steps into the pond would fully submerge the body, marking the threshold for a Mortal Spiritual Root, the lowest grade. But Ling Ye was already gasping for air by the time he reached just five steps.
"Haa… haa…" Ling Ye's ragged breaths grew heavier with each passing moment. His body felt like it was being crushed under a mountain's weight. Every part of him ached, but his mind burned with madness.
"One more! Just one more step!!" he roared inside his head like a madman.
Fueled by sheer willpower and desperation, he forced himself forward, taking three more steps. Now he had reached the seventh step. But after that, his body began to show signs of breaking.
Blood wept from the corners of his eyes, and his fingernails dug deep into his palms, piercing the skin. Despite the agony, he somehow lifted his leg again. Yet there was no joy in him, no pride. Only one thought echoed in his mind, "Another step. Just… another… step."
He gritted his teeth so hard it felt like they might shatter.
Watching from above, the old elder's expression softened with pity, seeing that the light he radied slowly fades away. "At this rate… he won't even reach the tenth step." The old elder could already tell, Ling Ye's body wasn't built to endure more than that. The tenth would be his absolute limit, letting the light truly fade completly away.
The elder sighed and slowly closed his eyes, wondering if he should pull Ling Ye out now… or allow him to continue. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be one of those rare cases where desperation sparked a miracle. But even those rare cultivators never amounted to much. They were nothing more than weak flames flickering in the wind.
While the old man wrestled with his decision, Ling Ye finally pushed himself forward once more. Every nerve in his body screamed, every breath burned in his lungs and then…
He took the ninth step.
But unlike before, his legs gave out entirely.
With a splash, Ling Ye collapsed into the pond, the light that he glowed out fade completly away, looking nothing more like a normal mortal.
The sound made the elder snap his eyes open, immediately checking for danger. But as he saw Ling Ye flailing in the water, his brows furrowed, not from panic, but from realization.
"He can't stand up anymore…" the elder thought. "His body has reached its limit and the heavens didnt blessed him."
Ling Ye couldn't stand up. His palms were bloodied from his own torn skin, and his legs refused to move, as if they were crippled.
Half submerged in the water, he gritted his teeth and struggled, but it was useless. His strength was gone.
"Another step…" That thought echoed in his mind, stubborn and desperate. But no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn't obey. Finally, he collapsed to his knees in the shallow pond.
He glanced down at himself. His robes clung heavily to his body, drenched through. His bloodied hands trembled, and the red that bled from the corners of his eyes made it seem like the world itself had turned crimson.
And then, still and breathless, he saw his reflection in the water.
"Pathetic," he muttered, barely recognizing the reflection staring back—bloodied, trembling, beaten. Was this really him?
Ling Ye lay there, chest rising and falling in silence. For the first time, he couldn't think—not about proving anything, Just emptiness and in the emtiness, Ling Ye saw a flicker, yellow eyes that pierced like glass.
Cold, yellow eyes.
Ling Ye froze.
He lifted his gaze slowly and looked above him. There, standing in the crowd beyond the pond, was a man in blue robes with long sleeves, long black hair, and piercing golden eyes.
A man who looked like he had stepped out of a memory.
"Father," Ling Ye whispered.
It was the man he had barely seen throughout his life. Yet in that single glance, those golden eyes struck him harder than any pain his body had endured in the pond.
But something about his father's gaze was different today. They weren't cold… or at least not in the same way as before. They weren't aloof or indifferent.
Ling Ye couldn't quite name the feeling in them, until the world shifted.
In an instant, he was no longer in the pond.
He stood in a crowd. A crowd of silent, defeated youths. Some knelt on the ground, whispering desperate prayers to the heavens. Others simply stared blankly ahead, their eyes dark, hollow, lost.
Ling Ye blinked, confused. Then he heard it. A voice, quiet and full of pity, "No spiritual root."
The moment he heard those words, the truth sank in.
He looked around once more, and in the broken expressions of those surrounding him, he saw it.
Disappointment.
His throat tightened. "That look in Father's eyes… It wasn't coldness. It wasn't contempt. It was disappointment."
Tears welled in his eyes, but no one cared, afterall many others were crying their own silent tears.