"Wang Yu—fifth-grade spiritual root—eliminated!"
"Next!"
The herald's voice rang clear and cold across the square. Around the Spirit Testing Platform, the crowd murmured. Pity flashed briefly across a few faces, but in the next instant, whispers filled the air.
"That's the Wang family's boy, isn't it?"
"Handsome face, shame he's got no fate with the Immortal Sects."
"Hah, good looks don't make up for rotten roots. The Wangs have done too much evil—retribution comes sooner or later!"
"Careful what you say. Young Master Yu isn't like those wastrel cousins of his—never bullied the common folk."
"Heh… a useless waste all the same! What's he still doing up there? Get off!"
The last voice didn't come from the crowd.
It belonged to a youth standing arrogantly off to the side—clad in silken robes embroidered with golden threads, a jade pendant hanging at his waist, and a painted fan tapping against his palm. His lips curled in a smirk of unrestrained pride.
His name was Wang Wu, Wang Yu's cousin. Sixteen years of age, and already tested—possessing a dual spiritual root, a prodigy with real hope of reaching Foundation Establishment.
Their fathers were blood brothers, both contenders for the next patriarch's seat. That rivalry had long since trickled down to their sons.
Wang Yu clenched his fists silently and stepped down from the platform.
He'd never considered himself a genius, but to think he possessed a fifth-grade spiritual root—a wasted root… such a result was far worse than he'd ever imagined. With this aptitude, even breaking through to the mid-stage of Qi Refining would be a struggle, let alone forming a foundation.
Sixteen years had passed since his reincarnation—ever since he awakened from the mysteries of the womb, he had walked this vast cultivation world, relying on a strange cheat bound to his soul:
[Idle Slot].
As its name suggested—it could store things.
But not physical objects. For the past sixteen years, all he had "stored" were books—The Thousand Character Classic, Eight Principles of Yong Calligraphy, Human Meridians: A Complete Guide, Miraculous Scrolls of Qihuang… and so on.
Once he skimmed through a book, he could place it into the Idle Slot, where another version of himself would endlessly study, ponder, and practice—without rest, without fatigue, for eternity.
After a few days, The Thousand Character Classic would be mastered in its entirety. Even if his physical self did nothing, he'd still learn every word.
Such an ability, if used in cultivation, could save countless hours.
But immortal sects had their rules.
The Wang Clan, residing in Stone Lake City, was under the jurisdiction of the Lingjiu Sect. Every year, when the youths came of age, the city would host the Spirit Root Examination—sixteen was the formal beginning of one's cultivation journey.
In this world, every person had a spiritual root, ranked from first to sixth grade:
The Single Spiritual Root, or Heavenly Root, was the most supreme—those who possessed it were destined for Core Formation, rare even in a century.
The Dual Spiritual Root, or Superior Root, had a high probability of forming a foundation—rare talents among men.
The Triple Spiritual Root, or Middle Root, was the most common; with effort, most could reach the peak of Qi Refining before their lifespan ended.
The Quadruple Spiritual Root, or Inferior Root, was already poor—foundation establishment was but a dream.
The Fifth Spiritual Root—the Wasted Root—was what Wang Yu had. It struggled even to refine spiritual energy, rarely surpassing the fourth layer of Qi Refining.
And the lowest—Shattered Root—couldn't sense spiritual energy at all, leaving one forever mortal.
Spiritual roots didn't dictate a cultivator's final destiny—but they determined one's starting point. Under equal resources, a low-grade root meant a low ceiling.
Yes, some defied fate. But Wang Yu… had lost from the start.
The Lingjiu Sect was no grand immortal sect, yet even they wouldn't waste resources on a wasted root. Even as a servant disciple, a four-root was the minimum.
Meanwhile, Wang Wu's dual root ensured he'd be treated as a future Foundation Establishment seed. With the sect's backing, the patriarchal contest was already decided.
The Spirit Testing Platform stood in the city lord's plaza. As Wang Yu walked away, not a single friend dared meet his eyes—those who once greeted him now turned their faces away.
Such was the reality of the world—warm one moment, cold the next.
Wang Clan Manor
Wang Yu pushed open the door, guilt flickering in his eyes as he saw his father, Wang Chongwen, offering incense before his mother's spirit tablet.
"You already know?" Wang Yu asked softly.
"I do."
Wang Chongwen bowed once, inserted three sticks of incense, and said quietly:
"If Wang Wu had been born with a triple root, I might still have stood a chance. But he's a dual root. The Lingjiu Sect will stand behind him, and the City Lord's Office will favor him. Pack your things. You'll leave Stone Lake City."
"You're afraid Uncle will kill me?" Wang Yu frowned.
"Not your uncle," Wang Chongwen replied. "Wang Wu will."
Wang Yu fell silent.
Life should never depend on another's mercy. The patriarchal struggle was ruthless, and Wang Wu was no man of restraint—his past was littered with cruelty: reckless riding through crowds, abducting women, flogging servants to death. He was a notorious scoundrel.
With the arrogance he'd shown today, revenge once he gained power was all but certain.
"I understand. I'll pack now."
"No need. There's a carriage waiting at the rear gate. It will take you to Qianqiu City. Live there in peace."
"You're not coming with me?"
"The clan elders will protect me. A family cannot prosper by allowing its sons to slaughter one another. Once you're gone, our bloodline will pose no threat to the patriarch's seat."
Wang Yu went silent once more.
Since his mother's death during childbirth, he and his father had shared little warmth. Even his childhood reputation as a prodigy had earned no praise.
He had long stopped expecting affection—yet this final act of concern stirred something deep within him.
Cultivation… he clenched his fists.
He would never give it up!
"Father, I'm leaving."
"Mm. Safe travels."
When the door closed, Wang Chongwen let out a long sigh. His bloodshot eyes opened, and he whispered toward his wife's memorial:
"Rou'er… our son was born bright and gifted. Even without cultivation, he'll live well. May he find peace in Qianqiu City, unlike his useless father…"
"Soon enough… I'll join you."
Wang Yu never knew what happened in that room after he left—never knew his father had already chosen death. The spirit root test had merely been the final spark.
While the testing continued in the plaza, Wang Yu was already on a carriage bound for Qianqiu City, leaving behind the turmoil of the Wang Clan.
At that same moment—
In a small servant's room behind the City Lord's Mansion, a figure shrouded in black robes spoke hoarsely:
"The Lingjiu Sect is but a third-rate force—its reach no more than a dozen cities, its strongest, a mere Core Formation cultivator. How can they compare to my Reverse Blood Sect?"
The City Lord's tone was cold and sharp.
"True, the Lingjiu Sect can't match your demonic sect. But this is righteous territory. The Demonic Path are rats in the streets—everyone hunts them.
"You want spirit roots? Pay in spirit stones. Ten stones for a fifth-grade root, fifty for a fourth. Triple and above—we don't sell."
The black-robed man growled in irritation.
"Ten for a wasted root? Are you robbing me blind?!"
(End of Chapter 1)