The morning sun spilled gently through the carved lattice of the window, painting slanted golden patterns across the floor.
Qin Lian stirred beneath her blanket, blinking at the unfamiliar ceiling. For a moment, she forgot where she was.
Then she remembered: the courtyard. The stars. The name she'd given the grey rabbit now curled up against her arm.
"…Yun?" she murmured.
The rabbit twitched an ear but didn't move.
Qin Lian sat up slowly. Her body felt light, but her thoughts were heavy with anticipation.
Today's the Spirit Root Test.
She didn't know why she felt nervous. Maybe because this would determine whether she could truly stay here—or be left behind.
Rising to her feet, she padded across the cool stone floor to the basin, where clear water waited in a glazed ceramic bowl. She washed her face, combed her hair as best she could, and carefully dressed in the soft green robes folded for her the night before.
They were too big around the sleeves and slightly long at the hem, but they smelled faintly of cedar and camellia. A quiet kind of comfort.
She tied her sash with a clumsy knot, then crouched to scratch Yun's head.
"You're not coming to this one," she whispered. "Stay and nap. It's not a rabbit-friendly ceremony."
Yun gave her an offended flick of the ear and thumped its foot once in protest—but didn't follow.
Qin Lian stepped out into the courtyard.
The mountain air was crisp, threaded with the scent of dew and pear blossoms. A few disciples walked along distant paths, their steps light and unhurried. Somewhere above, a bell chimed once—deep and resonant.
She stood quietly for a moment, breathing it in.
And then someone knocked softly on the courtyard gate.
She turned. A tall figure stood just beyond the threshold, dressed not in sweeping sect robes but in plain grey linen, like a wandering merchant or storyteller. His long hair was tied back with a simple cord. A weathered cloak hung over his shoulder. Only his eyes—sharp, wise, knowing—betrayed his identity.
"Great Great Grandpa?"
Yan Zhenwu smile stiff and said "Just Grandpa"
He continued "Ready?"
She nodded, still a little surprised. "You… look different."
"I dressed for the occasion," he said mildly. "No point drawing attention. This event is about you, not me."
She studied him for a beat longer. "You're not leaving after this… are you?"
He tilted his head. "Why would you think that?"
"I don't know. It feels like something a mysterious master does. Drops the child off at a grand sect, leaves her with destiny, and disappears into the mist."
His lips twitched. "Why do you think I dressed like a mortal?"
She blinked.
"I'm staying," he said gently. "I'll stay with you on your test"
Her breath caught. "Oh."
"Disappointed?"
"…No."
He gestured toward the sky. "Come on, lazy disciple. Time to catch a boat."
⸻
They flew low this time—just above the trees.
The flying boat curved through the mist like a silver swallow, cutting across quiet peaks and forest canopies. The sun hung low over the horizon, casting golden light across the tiled roofs and spiraling towers of the Verdant Sky Sect. In the distance, clouds spilled lazily across mountaintops like silk scarves.
Within minutes, they approached a shimmering lake cradled in a natural basin between two ridges. A single pavilion stood at its edge, its roof sweeping up like wings, eaves glinting inlaid jade. The lake itself was so still it looked like polished glass—reflecting the mountains, sky, and clouds with perfect clarity.
Qin Lian leaned forward. "Is that—?"
"Mirror Spring Pavilion," Yan Zhenwu confirmed. "The ceremonial place for all root awakenings."
The boat touched down with a whisper.
Disciples were already gathered. Dozens of them—young boys and girls her age in formal robes, lined up along the lake's edge. Elderly sect attendants stood nearby with scrolls and brushes, and a few instructors watched from the pavilion steps.
As soon as Yan Zhenwu stepped off the boat with Qin Lian beside him, an elder's voice called out from the center of the gathering.
"The Spirit Root Awakening Ceremony will now begin."
Then the elder turned—and paused.
His eyes landed on Yan Zhenwu.
Qin Lian looked up sharply as well.
The elder's expression shifted from formal neutrality to something like barely concealed awe. He opened his mouth, hesitated—then bowed slightly.
"Apologies, honored guest. I didn't expect…"
Yan Zhenwu gave him a small smile and raised a finger to his lips in a quiet gesture of secrecy.
The elder blinked.
Then nodded once, slowly. "Very well. We… shall proceed."
Qin Lian stared at her grandfather. "You're more famous than I thought."
He said nothing.
⸻
The disciples were guided into orderly rows, with Yan Zhenwu standing unobtrusively at the back. Qin Lian was led to a stone platform by the water's edge, where five large circular mirrors floated just above the surface—each etched with ancient characters representing one of the five elements: (Fire), (Water), (Wood), (Metal), and (Earth).
A jade tablet hovered above the lake in the center of the mirrors, its surface glowing faintly.
The presiding elder took center stage and raised his voice.
"Each of you shall step forward one by one and place your hand upon the spirit array. Your affinity shall be tested. The path shall be made known."
He turned slightly and gestured toward the floating mirrors.
"The Spirit Root is the foundation of a cultivator's connection to qi — spiritual energy. It determines how well you can absorb, refine, and manipulate the forces of nature."
The crowd of disciples listened intently.
"It governs your speed of cultivation, your compatibility with martial or elemental techniques, and the peak you may one day reach."
He stepped forward, lifting his hand. Five flames of elemental light flickered above his palm—red for fire, blue for water, green for wood, gold for metal, and brown for earth.
"Most are born with a single affinity. A few have two or more. But dual or triple roots—though rare—are not advantageous. The more divided one's spirit root, the harder it becomes to cultivate efficiently."
Murmurs spread through the younger disciples.
The elder continued.
"Some unfortunate few are born without any root at all. They cannot cultivate. They must walk the mortal path."
Qin Lian swallowed.
"And yet," he said with a weighty pause, "those with a pure root—unmixed, resonant, and strong—shall rise fastest. Spirit Roots are further divided into Mortal Grade, Earth Grade, and Heaven Grade."
Now even the older attendants looked attentive.
"The higher the grade, the greater your potential. But remember this: cultivation is not fate. It is only the beginning of a road."
He turned toward the lake. "Let us begin."
⸻
Disciples were called forward one by one.
The first girl stepped to the array, palms trembling. As soon as her fingers brushed the jade tablet, glowing light swept across the five elemental mirrors. The surface of the spring below rippled—and the 木 (Wood) mirror flared with a soft green.
"Mortal-grade Wood Root," the elder announced. "Next."
The girl bowed and returned to her spot in line, her face a mask of mixed emotions.
A slender boy followed. His hand barely touched the jade when a flash of flickering crimson lit the 火 (Fire) mirror.
"Mortal-grade Fire Root."
Then came another: a tall, confident youth with sharp features and pride in his step. He touched the jade boldly.
Twin pulses answered—one from 火 (Fire), the other from 金 (Metal). Both dim.
"Dual Spirit Root. Fire and Metal. Mortal-grade."
He frowned as he returned, clearly displeased.
Others followed. An Earth Root here. A low-grade Water Root there. The elder's voice remained calm and even, offering no praise or criticism, only fact.
Then the first anomaly arrived.
A girl no older than ten stepped onto the platform. Her robes were plain, her presence almost forgettable—until her fingers brushed the jade.
The air shimmered.
The 水 (Water) mirror began to glow—then the 木 (Wood) mirror burst into radiant emerald light. For a moment, the surface of the Mirror Spring rippled with swirls of qi that danced like leaves in the wind.
"Heaven-grade Wood Spirit Root," the elder said, voice slightly raised now. Several disciples gasped. Even the other elders along the platform looked over with interest.
The girl bowed deeply, her eyes wide, stunned by her own result.
"A wood root that deep…" murmured one inner disciple nearby. "She'll probably be sent directly to the Herbal Pavilion or a Peak for nurturing-type arts."
Then came the rarest.
A boy, pale and quiet, approached the array next. He seemed ordinary enough, if a little thin. But the moment he touched the jade—thunder cracked across the clear sky.
Gasps broke out.
The 雷 (Lightning) mirror, usually dormant, flared to life—deep violet arcing with streaks of gold. The light refracted in sharp, jagged lines across the water, and the qi around the array trembled.
The testing elder stared for a long moment.
Then he inhaled.
"…Heaven-grade Lightning Root. Extremely rare."
Even Yan Zhenwu, leaning against the pavilion beam in his mortal robes, raised a brow in approval.
Murmurs spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"A Lightning Spirit Root?"
"There hasn't been one in over thirty years!"
"Isn't that almost impossible?"
"Will the Sect Master take him in personally?"
The boy stood frozen, stunned. The elder placed a hand on his shoulder before sending him back gently. "You'll be reassigned," he said quietly. "Prepare yourself."
The mood shifted. The disciples who followed afterward wore hopeful expressions, but most results returned to the mundane—Mortal-grade Fire, Earth, Water. A few dual roots. One or two unfortunate results with no detectable spiritual root at all.
When those children returned, their steps were heavier.
And then, finally—
The elder glanced down at the next name on his scroll.
"Qin Lian."
Her heart jumped.
The world went still for a breath.
Qin Lian stepped forward, every sound distant except the soft crunch of her own footsteps on the platform.
As she approached the jade tablet, her eyes flicked up—toward her grandfather.
Yan Zhenwu was still, arms folded, watching with unreadable calm.
The elder gestured to the jade tablet. "Place your hand here."
She raised her palm slowly.
Tension coiled inside her like a thread about to snap.
She took a breath…
And reached out.