The sun rose bright over the Lin Clan estate, scattering gold across the tiled roofs, turning the morning mists into drifting fire. Bamboo groves swayed gently at the edge of the courtyards, their shadows dancing across stone paths polished by generations of feet. From afar came the steady clang of steel striking steel, disciples training before the dew had even dried. The cries of servants echoed from the kitchens, the scent of millet porridge and steamed buns wafting into the air.
It was a day like any other for the clan. Yet for Lin Xun, it was the day that would decide his standing.
A month had passed since that night when blood stained the dirt road outside the clan's walls. The assassins had struck swiftly, their blades aimed at his heart, their whispers colder than the steel. In the eyes of the clan, Lin Xun had died. Only later was his body discovered, broken but breathing faintly, as though fate itself refused to let him go. What they did not know was that death had truly claimed him, and something far stranger had brought him back.
Two souls, once separate, had become one.
The boy Lin Xun of the Lin Clan, once hailed as a genius but slain before his promise could bloom. And the man from Earth, a nobody, a shadow among the millions, who died in an alley at the hands of gang members for daring to love the wrong girl. Both gone, yet somehow both alive again. Their memories and pain had fused, not as two battling wills, but as a single flame burning with double the fuel.
Lin Xun stood in his chamber, fastening the plain sash of his robe, the scars on his chest hidden beneath the fabric. He took a slow breath. A month of healing had steadied his body. A month of thought had steadied his heart.
Today was the clan's day of testing.
Spiritual roots and bloodline concentration, the two pillars upon which cultivation talent was judged.
Spiritual roots were no gift that could be won or taught. They were the birthright of one's body, the unseen rivers that determined how Qi would flow, how it would gather, how it would grow. Some were born rootless, condemned to cultivate like beggars, drawing water from dry soil while others drank deeply from overflowing rivers. Such men could still rise, but each step was hardship, each gain a battle.
The five elements formed the foundation. Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth. Each root resonated with one, sometimes with more. The rarer the purity, the greater the destiny. The Heavenly Spiritual Root, a single-element root without impurity, was coveted by every sect under heaven. True Spiritual Roots, bearing two or three elements, could still lead to greatness. Pseudo Roots, muddied by four or five, dragged like chains. And worst of all, False Roots, tangled and unstable, where cultivation progress crawled slower than grass grew.
Yet even within these types, there were grades. Low, middle, high, earth-spirit, sky-spirit. These were the rungs of the ladder one might climb before reaching the heavens.
For the Lin Clan, fire burned brightest. Their founding ancestor had carried flame in his marrow, a flame that once shook the Martial Wave Province. Thus, fire roots were common among them, and the measure of bloodline concentration was the closeness of one's flame to that ancient origin. Those whose blood burned bright carried the clan's future on their shoulders. Those whose blood sputtered dimly became forgotten embers.
Lin Xun knew all this. He had listened in silence as others spoke, had watched with eyes calm but restless. Today, his root and blood would be laid bare.
He opened his door, stepping into the courtyard. Morning light fell over the paving stones, warming the coolness of the night. Servants passing by glanced his way, some bowing respectfully, others whispering as soon as they thought him out of earshot.
"There he is, Young Master Xun. Survived death itself, they say."
"Survived, but for what. If his talent is gone, the clan will not waste much on him."
"Once they called him a prodigy. Today we shall see the truth."
Lin Xun walked on without pause. He had no anger for their words, nor shame. On Earth, he had known worse—the scorn of professors, the ridicule of classmates, the laughter of gang members as boots struck his ribs. Their words had weighed him down once. Not anymore.
He followed the stone path toward the great hall, where his parents awaited him. The hall loomed like a mountain ahead, its eaves carved with firebirds, its doors wide enough to swallow ten men abreast.
But before he reached it, a voice cut through the morning.
"Well well, cousin Xun. Awake at last."
From the shade of a cypress tree stepped a youth clad in crimson-trimmed robes. His features were sharp, his posture proud, his eyes brimming with scorn. Lin Ming.
A cousin by blood, but more rival than kin. Ambitious, eager, always measuring himself against others, always seeking to rise. Where Lin Xun once had been hailed as a prodigy, Lin Ming had lived in his shadow. Now the tables had turned, and Lin Ming wasted no chance to step upon the fallen.
"Today is the day," Lin Ming said, lips curling in amusement. "The day we learn whether you were truly destined to rise, or if you were nothing more than a fraud dressed in false praise. I, for one, will enjoy seeing the truth revealed."
The insult spread like ripples on still water, each word cast with deliberate weight.
Lin Xun stopped, his gaze meeting Lin Ming's. His eyes were calm, not blazing, but within them flickered something steady, like embers that refused to die. On Earth, he would have lowered his head. On Earth, he would have endured in silence. But that life was ash now. This one was flame.
He stepped forward, his voice quiet, measured, but each word carried the weight of iron.
"We shall see."
For an instant, Lin Ming faltered. He had expected anger, or fear, or the desperate protest of one clinging to fading dignity. What he faced instead was steadiness, as if Lin Xun no longer cared for his taunts. As if his very soul had shifted.
Lin Ming's smirk returned quickly, though thinner than before. "Hmph. Bold words. Let us hope you can back them when the elders cast their judgment."
Lin Xun said nothing more. He walked past, his steps even, his back unbent.
The great hall drew near, its shadows deep, its doors open like the jaws of a beast waiting to devour him. Within, his parents awaited, the elders gathered, the instruments of testing prepared.
The whispers of servants faded behind him. The smirk of Lin Ming lingered at his back. Ahead lay his fate.
The time of testing had come.