The great stone doors of the Spirit Testing Hall rumbled shut behind the last group of disciples. The muffled echoes of the ceremony still clung to the air, but outside, in the Courtyard of Youth, the atmosphere had already transformed into something entirely different.
The courtyard was alive with energy. Excited chatter bounced off the jade tiles and the tall lantern poles that lined the training field. Groups of disciples clustered together in circles—laughing, bragging, and comparing the brilliance of their newly revealed spirit roots. For many of them, the ceremony had marked the beginning of their true journey, and pride surged like a tide among the young.
"Did you see Zhao Feng's awakening?" one boy exclaimed, his eyes shining. "A seventh-tier violet! Elder Wu himself said it's the mark of a future pillar of the sect!"
"And Mei Lin…" another voice added, almost reverent. "Fifth-tier blue, and dual elements of water and light. A rare combination! She'll be a true genius of the Sea of Stars Sect."
Laughter followed, full of admiration and envy alike.
But mingled with the excitement were whispers of a different sort. In the corners of the courtyard, in every group's hushed conversations, a single name kept surfacing.
Li Shen.
The boy who had once walked proudly among them, who had trained beside them for two years, now stood alone in the shadow of humiliation.
---
"They said he had no spirit root at all," a disciple scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. "How did he even get into the sect in the first place?"
"Maybe he bribed someone," another sneered. "Or maybe the sect made a mistake letting him in. Either way, it's over for him now."
"Rootless trash." The phrase was whispered like a curse, spreading quickly from one circle of disciples to another until it became the rhythm of the courtyard itself.
Li Shen could hear every word. His ears burned, but he forced his feet to keep moving. Each step across the courtyard's polished stone felt heavier than the last, like invisible chains dragging him down.
Two years ago, he had stood among them with pride. He had sparred, studied, and dreamed alongside these same peers. He had laughed with Zhao Feng, shared meals with Mei Lin, and spoken of glorious futures beneath the star-lit sky of the sect.
But now, all of it had been stripped away in a single day.
Zhao Feng's mocking voice cut through the air like a blade. "A sect filled with prodigies, and yet we wasted two years training trash. Li Shen, are you sure you didn't mistake this place for a farmer's school?"
Laughter rippled through the courtyard.
Li Shen's fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms until pain shot through his fingers. He wanted to shout back, to defend himself—but what could he say? The orb had shown nothing. His Sea of Ocean had remained silent. He had no proof, no power, nothing to stand on.
His gaze drifted to Mei Lin, standing not far from Zhao Feng. Her delicate features were drawn tight, her lips pressed into a thin line. For a fleeting moment, their eyes met. He thought he saw something there—regret, pity, maybe even sorrow. But then she looked away, joining the circle of disciples who surrounded Zhao Feng.
The rejection cut deeper than any insult.
---
The circles closed without him. Everywhere he walked, disciples shifted subtly to avoid him, like his presence alone might tarnish their rising futures. Some gave him sidelong glances filled with contempt; others laughed openly, mocking his silence.
"Rootless trash," one boy muttered as Li Shen passed by.
"Don't stand too close to him," another said loudly, earning snickers. "I hear weakness is contagious."
Li Shen kept his head down, his black hair falling like a curtain to hide the fire in his eyes. He wanted to scream. He wanted to demand why fate had chosen him, why his father had abandoned him, why the heavens themselves seemed to laugh at his pain.
But the memory of his mother's face stopped him.
Her smile, weary but warm. The way she had held his hands before he left for the sect, whispering, "Shen'er, no matter what, you must live well. Become strong. Protect yourself… and protect me, too."
That promise was the only thing that kept him standing now.
He walked toward the edge of the courtyard, seeking distance from the crowd, but even there the whispers followed. Disciples pointed at him, laughed at his hunched shoulders, and shook their heads.
The shame was suffocating.
For the first time in two years, he felt truly alone. Not just lonely—abandoned.
---
So this is what it means to be worthless.
He looked at his hands, the same hands that had struck wooden dummies until they bled, that had held books of cultivation theory until late into the night. The same hands that had dreamed of wielding sword or spell, of summoning beasts, of standing proud as a protector of his sect and family.
All those years, all that effort… and for what?
His chest tightened, a suffocating knot of rage and despair.
Maybe Zhao Feng is right. Maybe I should never have been here at all.
The thought of walking away, of abandoning the sect and its cruel mockery, gnawed at him. But where would he go? What would he say to his mother?
Would he tell her that her son—the son she believed would become her pride—was nothing more than a rootless waste?
He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.
No. He couldn't. Not yet.
---
As the courtyard roared with excitement, the invisible lines of hierarchy became clearer than ever.
At the top stood disciples like Zhao Feng and Mei Lin—their roots, elements, and awakenings placing them firmly among the sect's geniuses. Around them clustered the ambitious ones, eager to ride the coattails of future power.
Below them were the ordinary disciples—those with average roots, still proud to have a place in the sect, but resigned to supporting roles.
And at the very bottom stood Li Shen. Alone. Shunned. Mocked.
His position was worse than the weakest disciple with a low-tier root, because at least they had something. He had nothing.
---
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard, but Li Shen felt only the weight of darkness closing in on him.
In the distance, he could hear Zhao Feng's laughter as the boy bragged about his future. He could see Mei Lin's hesitant smile, torn but silent. He could hear the whispers of disciples already planning their futures around those with power.
And he knew, deep in his bones, that he was no longer counted among them.
The murmurs of the courtyard swelled like crashing waves. Every insult, every whisper, every mocking laugh pressed against Li Shen's back as though the entire sect had turned into a tide determined to wash him away. He kept his head down, willing himself to disappear into the corner shadows. But Zhao Feng would not let him.
"Li Shen!" Zhao Feng's voice cracked through the noise like thunder. The courtyard quieted, dozens of eyes turning toward the proud boy standing in the center. His violet robes caught the last glow of the sun, and his smile gleamed sharp as a blade. "Where are you slinking off to? Don't tell me you're already running from the sect!"
A ripple of laughter followed. Some disciples smirked, others looked on with discomfort, but none spoke in Li Shen's defense.
Li Shen froze mid-step, his shoulders tense. He didn't want to answer, didn't want to give Zhao Feng the satisfaction. But his silence only seemed to fuel the fire.
Zhao Feng walked toward him with deliberate steps, his entourage of sycophants trailing behind like shadows. When he finally stopped, only a few feet separated them. The difference between the two was stark: Zhao Feng, glowing with confidence, his violet spirit root aura still faintly clinging to his skin; Li Shen, head bowed, his robes plain and dust-stained, his aura empty.
"You've wasted the sect's time," Zhao Feng sneered, loud enough for all to hear. "Two years of resources, teachings, and attention—poured into someone who turned out to be rootless trash. Do you know how many true geniuses could have taken your place?"
Li Shen's fists trembled. His jaw clenched. The words sliced deeper than he wanted to admit. He felt his chest tighten with the weight of humiliation, but still he refused to look up.
Zhao Feng leaned closer, lowering his voice just enough so that only those nearby could hear. "And you think you can still stand by Mei Lin's side? She deserves someone worthy, not a cripple who can't even awaken."
At the mention of her name, Li Shen's head snapped up. His eyes, dark and bloodshot from strain, locked onto Zhao Feng's. For the first time that day, he glared, his teeth bared in silent fury.
Zhao Feng smiled, satisfied. That was the reaction he wanted. "You think you're angry now? Good. Remember this feeling, because it's all you'll ever have left. Anger, jealousy, and regret. While I—" he spread his arms, basking in the approving gazes of the disciples "—will rise as the genius of the Sea of Stars Sect. I'll claim honor, strength, and yes…" his eyes flickered toward Mei Lin, "the people you care about."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Zhao Feng hadn't just mocked Li Shen; he had declared his intent openly. A challenge. A claim.
Li Shen's entire body shook. Every word was like a nail hammered into his soul. He wanted to fight, to throw himself at Zhao Feng and tear the smirk off his face. But what could he do? With no spirit root, no awakening, he was powerless. Even if he fought, it would only end in further humiliation.
The other disciples chuckled, some jeering, others murmuring about Zhao Feng's dominance. A few, however, frowned—uneasy with how far Zhao Feng pushed. Among them, a tall boy named Jian Yu crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, "Too much."
But Jian Yu didn't step forward. No one did.
---
"Zhao Feng, that's enough." Mei Lin's voice rang out, soft yet clear. Every head turned. She stepped forward from the circle of disciples, her white and blue robes glowing faintly under the lantern light. Her gaze wavered between Zhao Feng and Li Shen, her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line.
For a heartbeat, Li Shen felt hope. Perhaps she would speak for him. Perhaps she would remind them of the boy who had trained tirelessly, who had shared meals with them, who had never once treated his peers with cruelty.
But her next words shattered that hope.
"Li Shen has already suffered enough humiliation today," she said carefully, each syllable measured. "There's no need to press further."
It was not a defense. It was pity—a plea for mercy, not respect.
Zhao Feng chuckled. "Always so softhearted, Mei Lin. But you're right—there's no sport in tormenting the cripple." He turned back to Li Shen, his smirk deepening. "Still, know this: from this day forward, you'll remain beneath my feet. And Mei Lin? She deserves someone who can stand at her side, not someone who drags her down."
Mei Lin's eyes flickered, her hands clenching at her sides. She wanted to speak, but the weight of expectation—the stares of her peers, Zhao Feng's looming influence—choked her into silence.
Li Shen caught that silence like a blade to the heart. For a moment, he saw the girl who had once shared secret smiles with him during night practice, who had laughed at his clumsy sword forms and encouraged his stubborn attempts at meditation. And now, she stood on the other side, not as ally but as distant observer.
The sting of betrayal cut deeper than Zhao Feng's insults.
---
Li Shen turned away. He couldn't bear their eyes any longer. Every step felt heavier, but he forced himself to move, to leave the courtyard before his legs gave out. His vision blurred with rage and shame.
Behind him, the courtyard roared with renewed chatter, Zhao Feng's laughter rising above all else. The world seemed to shrink, pressing down on Li Shen until the air itself was suffocating.
Worthless. Rootless. Trash.
The words echoed in his mind like a curse, each repetition hammering into his soul. He staggered into the shadow of the training hall, where the lantern light did not reach, and leaned against the cold stone wall. His body trembled violently—not from fear, but from the storm raging inside him.
I'm nothing. Nothing!
The thought tore at him, ripping his chest open. He clenched his fists so hard his nails drew blood, the warm sting a bitter reminder that he was still alive, still human.
And then—
A pulse.
It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it thrummed deep within him. A rhythm. A heartbeat not his own. His eyes widened. For a moment, he thought he imagined it. But then it came again—slow, deliberate, resonating through his very bones.
The Sea of Ocean within him stirred.
He closed his eyes, gasping. In the darkness of his mind, he glimpsed something—a flicker of light, no, not light, but… a vast, endless depth. A sea without horizon, stars glimmering faintly beneath its surface like jewels scattered across water.
The vision lasted only an instant before it shattered, leaving him breathless, his heart hammering wildly.
What… was that?
He pressed his hand against his chest, his fingers trembling. The orb in the hall had shown nothing, declared him rootless. And yet, something slept inside him. Something vast. Something waiting.
The despair that had nearly drowned him moments ago shifted, replaced by a fragile ember of defiance.
Maybe the orb was wrong. Maybe I am more than this.
The ember burned faintly, small and weak, but enough to keep him standing. Enough to push him forward, one step at a time, into the uncertain night.
He didn't know what that pulse meant, or what lay in the depths of his Sea of Ocean. But he knew one thing:
His story wasn't over.
And if the heavens had chosen to curse him with humiliation, then he would defy the heavens themselves.