Lin Hao stepped out of the Ji Clan library, the aged wooden doors creaking shut behind him. His fingers still smelled faintly of parchment and incense, but the moment he emerged into the open courtyard, those scholarly scents were drowned out by something more primal—noise, excitement, and the low beat of war drums.
"Hm?"
He paused, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of a large gathering near the eastern practice grounds. Banners bearing the Ji Clan's golden phoenix insignia fluttered in the wind, and dozens—no, hundreds—of people stood in organized rows around a central platform. A stone stage had been set up, surrounded by tall poles draped in crimson cloth.
From somewhere beyond the crowd, the sound of weapons clashing echoed—sharp, metallic.
"What's going on?" Lin Hao muttered, stepping forward and tapping a youth nearby.
The boy, dressed in faded gray with a wooden practice spear strapped to his back, turned and blinked. "Ah? You don't know?"
Lin Hao gave him a calm stare. "I've been in the library for three days."
The youth nodded, then leaned in, half-whispering like it was sacred knowledge. "It's the Ji Clan Army Selection Trial."
Lin Hao raised an eyebrow. "Army?"
"Yeah. Outer disciples who want to join the Ji Clan's military forces. Every six months, the clan hosts a recruitment trial. Those who pass will be taken in as military trainees and, if they survive training, become formal soldiers of the Ji Clan's external corps."
Lin Hao glanced at the large crowd—hundreds of young men and women, some with bandaged arms, others sharpening their weapons with gritty determination.
"They're not testing cultivation?" he asked.
The boy scoffed. "Not only that. It's a practical trial. Strength, reaction, endurance… tactics, too. Many of the Ji Clan's elite warriors started as foot soldiers. This is the only way out for those without strong bloodlines."
Lin Hao folded his hands behind his back, observing. Another servant nearby whispered with some urgency to his friend, "I heard that the selection this time is personally overseen by the Deputy Commander of the Ji Army."
Lin Hao's lips twitched into a smirk. A hush fell over the crowd as the figure at the forefront raised his hand. Clad in dark crimson robes embroidered with gold-threaded phoenix wings, Elder Ji Yuan, a senior member of the Ji Clan's martial division, stepped onto the stone platform with the practiced authority of a man used to commanding hundreds.
He stood beside a tall, ancient mirror — its bronze frame lined with glowing runes, and at its base were four embedded gemstones: black, red, silver, and violet. Behind him stood several other minor clan elders and stewards, along with robed record-keepers holding jade slips. They sat beneath parasols, sipping spirit tea as if this event were simply another formality.
"The first phase, Trial of Origin Veins, will now begin!" Elder Ji Yuan's voice carried across the entire field like a bell tolling through the clouds.
A loud hum emitted from the mirror as one of the gems — the dull red one — began to glow faintly.
"The Mirror of Origin Veins has been awakened," Elder Ji Yuan announced. "All participants, step forward when called. The mirror shall display your physique grade. Only those with physique potential above low mortal-tier will proceed to the next round."
A murmur ran through the gathered crowd of participants, but no one dared step out of line. Behind them, hundreds of observers — servants, minor disciples, guards, and wandering cultivators — leaned in, some whispering bets, others just watching with eager eyes.
The first participant stepped up — a tall, muscular youth with tanned skin and callused hands. He swallowed hard and stepped in front of the mirror.
A moment passed.
BZZZT—
The black gem at the base of the mirror pulsed once. A line of glowing characters floated above the mirror's surface:
Physique Grade: Mid Houtian Physique – Earthbone Strength
"Mid Houtian, eh?" one of the observers whispered. "Decent. He'll probably make it through the physical round."
Elder Ji Yuan nodded mildly. "Pass. Next."
One by one, the candidates stepped forward — each revealed with some grade of physique:
Low Mortal Physique – Wooden Marrow Veins → "Eliminated."
High Houtian Physique – Flowing Muscle Type → "Pass."
Low Xiantian Physique – Ice-Blood Veins → "Exceptional. Name recorded separately."
As the line moved forward, hopefuls began murmuring prayers under their breath, clutching lucky charms or spirit stones close to their chests. A few shut their eyes and looked skyward, hoping for a miracle.
Onlookers exchanged coins and whispered wagers. A servant girl near the edge of the courtyard clutched her apron with wide eyes, whispering, "That boy from the Northern Courtyard just got High Houtian! I told you he was strong."
"Those Northern Courtyard boys always train in secret," a guard beside her muttered. "They come out swinging every year."
And amidst all of it, Lin Hao remained silent—unmoving, like a shadow at the edge of the storm.