"I refuse to accept this!"
Jiang Tian's voice rang out across the Violet Cloud Sect's outer courtyard, causing several disciples to turn and stare. His face was red, not from embarrassment, but from sheer indignation.
The middle-aged examiner looked at him with barely concealed disdain.
"Refuse all you want. The spirit root test doesn't lie. Four-vein mortal root, lowest grade. Your meridians are narrow and twisted. Your dantian is the size of a pea. In the entire hundred-year history of Violet Cloud Sect, I've never seen worse aptitude."
Jiang Tian clenched his fists. Around him, other examinees whispered and snickered.
"Four-vein mortal root? That's worse than trash!"
"I heard even servants in the sect need at least six-vein roots..."
"Why did he even bother coming to test?"
The examiner waved his hand dismissively. "Next!"
"Wait!"
Jiang Tian stepped forward again, his eyes blazing with stubborn determination.
"I don't care what the test says! I will become a cultivator! My father told me that the Violet Cloud Sect accepts anyone willing to work hard. Are you going back on the sect's founding principles?"
The examiner's eye twitched. This brat actually dared to lecture him about sect principles?
"Fine," the examiner said coldly. "The Violet Cloud Sect does accept all who wish to cultivate. You can stay. As an outer sect miscellaneous disciple. Your duties will be cleaning the Sword Washing Pool, feeding the spirit beasts, and maintaining the training grounds. Don't expect any resources or guidance. With your aptitude, you'll be lucky to reach the first layer of Qi Condensation before you die of old age."
Jiang Tian's grin was so wide it looked almost manic. "That's fine! I accept!"
The examiner blinked, startled by the boy's enthusiasm.
Most people would have slunk away in shame.
But this kid looked like he'd just won a grand prize.
"You... you really want to stay?"
"Of course! A foot in the door is still a foot in the door!"
Jiang Tian pumped his fist.
"Just you wait! In ten years, I'll become the number one disciple of Violet Cloud Sect!"
Laughter erupted from the crowd of examinees.
"Did he hit his head?"
"Number one disciple? With four-vein mortal root?"
"I give him three months before he gives up and goes home!"
Even the examiner couldn't help but shake his head.
He'd seen many stubborn youths over the years, but none quite this delusional.
Still, the sect rules were clear—anyone who wished to cultivate could stay, regardless of talent.
"Report to the miscellaneous disciples' quarters," the examiner said with a sigh. "Elder Fang will assign your duties."
As Jiang Tian was led away by a bored-looking sect servant, the other examinees returned to their spirit root testing.
A girl with nine-vein immortal root—a heaven-blessed genius—was immediately welcomed by multiple inner sect elders competing to take her as a disciple.
Jiang Tian wasn't paying attention to them.
His eyes were fixed on the distant peaks of the inner sect, where the true geniuses cultivated in palaces that touched the clouds.
"Father," he whispered under his breath, touching the worn jade pendant hanging from his neck—his only inheritance. "I know I have no talent. I know everyone thinks I'm trash. But you taught me that when you have nothing, you make something from nothing. When you're weak, you get creative. I'll find a way. I swear it."
---
The miscellaneous disciples' quarters were located in the least desirable part of the outer sect—a collection of shabby wooden buildings at the base of the mountain, far from the spiritual qi-rich peaks where real disciples cultivated.
Elder Fang, a grizzled old man with a permanent scowl, looked Jiang Tian up and down like he was examining a particularly disappointing vegetable.
"Four-vein mortal root," Elder Fang muttered, reading from a jade slip.
"Worst aptitude in sect history. Wonderful."
He shoved a bundle of gray robes at Jiang Tian.
"Here's your uniform. Your room is number forty-seven—you'll be sharing with three others. Wake up at dawn, breakfast in the common hall, then report to the Sword Washing Pool for your duties."
"What exactly do I do at the Sword Washing Pool?" Jiang Tian asked.
"What do you think you do at a washing pool?" Elder Fang snapped.
"Inner sect disciples train daily, killing demonic beasts and sparring with weapons. They wash their swords there to clean off the blood and impurities. Your job is to drain the pool weekly, scrub it clean, and refill it from the underground spring. Any other stupid questions?"
"No, Elder!"
"Good. Now get out of my sight."
Jiang Tian hurried to room forty-seven, his arms full of his new uniform and a thin bedroll.
The room was cramped and musty, with four wooden beds crammed inside. Three of them were already occupied—his new roommates.
A skinny boy with a lazy eye looked up from a cultivation manual.
"Oh great. New blood. What's your name?"
"Jiang Tian."
"I'm Zhou Wei. That's Chen Long."
He pointed to a burly boy doing push-ups in the corner.
"And the sleeping beauty over there is Wu Ming."
A third boy—pale and thin—was sprawled on his bed, snoring loudly.
"What's your spirit root?" Zhou Wei asked.
"Four-vein mortal root."
The room went silent. Even Chen Long stopped mid-push-up.
"Four-vein?" Zhou Wei's jaw dropped. "I thought the minimum was six-vein!"
"It is," Jiang Tian said cheerfully, tossing his belongings onto the empty bed. "I'm special."
Chen Long burst out laughing. "Special? That's one way to put it! Brother, you might as well give up now. Four-vein mortal root? You'll never even reach the first layer of Qi Condensation!"
"We'll see about that," Jiang Tian said, his grin never wavering.
Zhou Wei shook his head.
"At least you're optimistic. Most miscellaneous disciples are just here to earn a living—we do grunt work, get three meals a day and a roof over our heads. The sect gives us basic cultivation manuals, but nobody expects us to actually succeed. I've got seven-vein mortal root, and I've been here two years without breaking through."
"Two years?" Jiang Tian frowned. "Why so long?"
"Because we get no resources, no guidance, and no access to good cultivation locations," Zhou Wei explained. "The spiritual qi down here is thin. All the good stuff is reserved for inner sect disciples. We're just... here."
"That's not fair," Jiang Tian said.
All three of his roommates laughed at that.
"Fair?" Chen Long wiped tears from his eyes. "Kid, the cultivation world has never been fair. The strong get stronger. The weak stay weak. That's just how it is."
Jiang Tian didn't argue. His father had taught him the same thing. But his father had also taught him something else:
"The cultivation world isn't fair. So don't play fair. Find advantages where others see nothing. Create opportunities where none exist."
"When do we get the cultivation manual?" Jiang Tian asked.
"Tomorrow morning," Zhou Wei said. "Elder Fang hands them out during orientation. But don't get excited—it's just the Basic Qi Condensation Method. The most common technique in the entire cultivation world. Even beggars probably know it."
"That's fine," Jiang Tian said, lying back on his bed. "A technique is a technique."
As his roommates returned to their own activities, Jiang Tian stared at the ceiling, his mind already racing with possibilities.
Four-vein mortal root. Narrow meridians. Tiny dantian. By all accounts, he was doomed to fail.
But Jiang Tian had learned something important from his father, who had been a mere mortal hunter but had survived countless encounters with martial artists and demonic beasts through pure cunning:
"When you can't win through strength, you win through strategy. When you can't win through strategy, you win through madness. And when madness fails, you simply refuse to lose."
Jiang Tian closed his eyes, a smile playing at his lips.
"Number one disciple of Violet Cloud Sect," he whispered to himself. "Everyone thinks it's impossible. I'll prove them wrong."