Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Spirit Illumination

Ling Zhen Sect lay within Secluded Valley, embraced by three mountains. Two sheer cliff walls faced one another, leaving only a narrow strip of sky between them. The Mist Skiffs flew through that passage and into the valley beyond.

It felt like stepping into another world.

Hills and rivers wove through the land, lakes scattered like stars across the surface. The terrain stretched wide and deep, vast enough to feel like a realm unto itself.

A waterfall thundered down at the center. A mighty river cut the valley cleanly in two.

Steward Cao pointed. “That is Sky-Piercing River. The east side is the Outer Sect. The west side is the Inner Sect.”

The stewards guided their Mist Skiffs down to a hall roofed in green tile. “Spirit-Illumination Hall,” they announced. “Follow us.”

The disciples climbed down and trailed after their stewards.

Wang Fang was already an official disciple. He didn’t take part in what followed and left first, taking Wang Chu Yan with him.

Inside, the hall was cavernous. Gray-robed disciples moved in steady streams. A square skylight in the ceiling gathered sunlight into a single bright beam that fell on a spotless white screen wall.

“The disciples from Feihu Small World have arrived,” a steward called. “Please ask Elder Lin to test the new disciples’ spirit roots.”

A gray-robed disciple bowed and went inside. Soon he returned with a short, stout old man with crane-white hair and a youthful face.

Elder Lin acknowledged the stewards with a casual sweep of his hand, then pressed his palm to the screen wall. Pale light rippled across its surface. He withdrew his hand.

“Begin.”

The stewards lined the children up in arrival order and sent them forward one by one.

Zhao Chun’s group was third from last.

Cheng Tan’s group went first. A thin, fragile boy stepped up. The wall flashed white, then condensed into a whirlpool of four colors—red, brown, green, and yellow.

“Four spirit roots,” Elder Lin said. “Evenly balanced.”

A gray-robed disciple handed the boy a wooden plaque carved with the number 4. The boy accepted it in a daze and was led aside.

The next few were the same—four spirit roots, five spirit roots. Cheng Tan’s face grew darker and darker. When even the last child in his group tested as four spirit roots, Cheng Tan looked like he might collapse.

“Steward Cheng Tan,” Elder Lin said, shaking his head, “selection task: rated low. Next.”

More children stepped up. The second steward was also rated low. Only in the third group did a boy finally test as three spirit roots—wood and earth strong, water weak.

The boy, thin as a monkey, took his plaque carved with 3 with shining eyes. He bowed deeply to Elder Lin and his steward, then hurried to wait at the side.

With one three-spirit-root disciple, that steward earned an average rating and looked visibly relieved.

The next group had thirteen children and still produced only a single three-spirit-root disciple. Their steward’s face remained grim.

Steward Cao, who had brought only six, would have been last if not for Sister Yuan bringing even fewer—only four.

Selecting from Small Worlds was a task none of the stewards wanted. Spiritual qi there was thin; geniuses were rare. Producing a single three-spirit-root disciple was often enough to earn an average rating and collect the full reward.

But Steward Cao was an elder’s disciple. By rights, he should have been assigned selection within his own world, where he could have found several three-spirit-root disciples and earned double rewards.

Instead, he’d been pushed into this.

Zhao Chun saw the tightness in his jaw and understood, without needing to hear it said aloud: someone had forced him into the worst task.

Liu Zi Yi, as always, insisted on being first in their line.

He stepped forward. The wall flashed. A four-colored whirlpool formed.

Liu Zi Yi stared at it, stricken.

Four spirit roots?

It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

“Four spirit roots,” Elder Lin said, voice flat with familiarity. “Water and wood slightly heavier. Step down.”

Liu Zi Yi moved like a man under a crushing weight. A gray-robed disciple practically dragged him away and shoved the plaque into his sleeve when he hesitated to take it.

Xie Bao Guang and Zhang Ming Zhan went next, both visibly tense. Xie Bao Guang received a 4. Zhang Ming Zhan received a 5. They ended up standing together, heads bowed, all arrogance drained away.

Peng Zheng trembled so hard the words spilled out of him in a frantic whisper. “Divine immortal bless me. Divine immortal bless me. Divine immortal bless me…”

When he stepped up, the wall bloomed into three colors—brown, red, yellow.

“Three spirit roots,” Elder Lin said. “Evenly balanced.”

Peng Zheng nearly staggered with relief. “Thank you, Elder! Thank you, Steward!”

Steward Cao finally gave a small nod. A balanced three-spirit-root disciple was enough to secure an average rating.

Zhou Pian Ran went next.

Five spirit roots.

She looked down for only a brief moment before taking her plaque and stepping aside, calm in a way Zhao Chun didn’t expect.

Then it was Zhao Chun’s turn.

She steadied her breathing and stepped before the wall. White light burst out, brilliant enough to sting. Colors followed: bright yellow first, then vivid red curling through it, and finally a thin, pale green trailing behind.

Three spirit roots.

Elder Lin nodded. “Three spirit roots. Metal and fire strong, wood weak.”

Zhao Chun accepted the plaque and bowed. “Thank you, Elder. Thank you, Steward.”

Zhou Pian Ran’s face brightened with genuine admiration. “You’re amazing. You’ll definitely succeed.”

“Spirit roots only affect your ceiling,” Zhao Chun said softly. “They don’t replace effort. Without years of hard cultivation, even good spirit roots won’t carry you far.”

Zhang Ming Zhan’s mouth twisted. “How fake.”

Zhou Pian Ran hurriedly tugged Zhao Chun’s sleeve and leaned close. “Don’t listen to him. I know you mean it. It’s just… I really don’t care about cultivation.”

Her gaze dropped. Her voice turned very small. “I miss home so much. I don’t want to be a disciple here. Steward Cao said people can go back after five years. With talent as bad as mine, I’ll probably be sent home then anyway.”

Her eyes reddened. “During the month at the temple, my mother came to see me in secret. She told me she misses me so much she can’t sleep. I’ve never been away this long…”

Zhao Chun raised a hand and gently wiped away her tears.

Zhou Pian Ran swallowed hard and went on, words spilling out as if she’d held them too long. “I was happy to be chosen. My two brothers are useless, and even my parents are looked down on. I thought entering the temple was just like becoming a nun. I wanted to help them save face. I didn’t know I’d be taken this far.”

“There’s no shame in that,” Zhao Chun said quietly. “Everyone has their own road. If you don’t want cultivation, no one can force you. And if you change your mind later, you can choose again.”

She paused, then added, “Don’t cry. Your parents would want their daughter to be happy, wherever she is.”

Zhou Pian Ran blinked hard and managed to hold the tears back.

Another group finished their test. Their steward—Bao Yu, the tall handsome cultivator from earlier—let out a long sigh as he looked at the line of four- and five-spirit-root children. He accepted his low rating with obvious disappointment.

Sister Yuan stood close to him and murmured comfort. Behind her were four children. The first three tested as five spirit roots.

Then the last child stepped forward.

This time the wall didn’t form a whirlpool. Instead, it washed completely ink-green, with faint blue, star-like points scattered across it.

Elder Lin’s entire demeanor changed. Delight flashed across his face.

“Wood-water dual spirit roots!” he declared. “Wood leads, water follows—and the water attribute is extremely weak. Good. Very good!”

Ling Zhen Sect had thirty thousand Outer Sect disciples and a hundred thousand preparatory disciples. Every year, thousands more were selected from outside. Most were four or five spirit roots. Three spirit roots made up a bit over twenty percent—nearly thirty thousand people.

Heavenly spirit root prodigies were too rare and were usually taken by larger sects. They didn’t fall into Ling Zhen Sect’s lap.

Dual spirit roots, however, were still rare enough to be treasured—fewer than a thousand in the entire sect.

And among the five cultivators at Essence Condensation Stage or higher—including the sect master—every single one, except Elder Qiu, had dual spirit roots.

Dual spirit roots meant at least Foundation Establishment Stage, with the possibility of reaching Essence Condensation Stage.

Elder Lin studied the boy as if he were a jewel. “Not bad. This year’s selection has produced three dual spirit roots so far. The other two had balanced attributes. Your talent is better. What’s your name? How old are you?”

The boy bowed neatly. “This junior is Zheng Chen Qing. I am twelve.”

Elder Lin’s satisfaction deepened. “The sect’s rules state that outstanding talent enters the Inner Sect directly. You will not stay with the others. Come with me first to meet the sect master.

“Also—Yuan Min Ru,” he added, looking toward Sister Yuan, “rated top. Everyone else, disperse.”

With that, he formed a Mist Skiff and left, taking Zheng Chen Qing with him.

The remaining stewards, whatever they thought inside, all congratulated Yuan Min Ru. Bao Yu, moments ago gloomy, looked as if the sun had risen in his chest—his earlier disappointment wiped away.

The other disciples couldn’t hide their envy. Everyone wished they were the one Elder Lin had taken away.

Steward Cao pointed inward. “Our tasks are finished. Beyond Spirit-Illumination Hall is the disciples’ residence. Show your plaques to the clerks inside and you’ll be assigned.”

The stewards had spent half a year in a Small World’s thin spiritual qi. Exhaustion sat on them like dust. After giving the instruction, they formed Mist Skiffs and departed one after another.

The disciples were left to themselves. They naturally clustered into groups and started forward.

Zhao Chun noticed that aside from herself and Peng Zheng, the other two three-spirit-root disciples were the most sought after. Each had more than ten people trailing them, basking in attention.

Even Peng Zheng—once so careful and meek—had replaced Liu Zi Yi as the center of that trio. Without the old crouching posture, he looked unexpectedly dignified.

Zhao Chun stayed with Zhou Pian Ran. Xie Bao Guang lingered alone. He couldn’t go near the three boys he’d quarreled with, and he wasn’t close to Zhao Chun either.

Only when Zhao Chun gave a small nod did Zhou Pian Ran wave him over to join them.

Xie Bao Guang’s ears reddened. “Thank you,” he muttered.

“It’s nothing,” Zhao Chun said, and they continued.

The disciples’ residence resembled Spirit-Illumination Hall in layout, only simpler. Inside, gray-robed disciples sat behind a long row of tables, recording names and issuing supplies. Lines had already formed.

There were only a little over a hundred new disciples. With many tables open, the wait was short.

When Zhao Chun reached the front, she handed over her plaque. The clerk saw the carved 3 and immediately treated her with more respect. He passed her a set of keys, then bundled supplies into a cloth pack and handed it over.

“Female disciples live in Daylily Garden,” he said. “Go out and head east. As a three-spirit-root disciple, your monthly allowance is twenty Cui Stones, ten packets of Mind-Clearing Powder, and ten packets of Qi-Boosting Powder. You may count them.”

Zhao Chun opened the pack. Twenty thumb-sized green stones sat inside, along with twenty yellow paper packets labeled with the powders’ names.

She gave a small nod and bowed. “Thank you for your trouble.”

“It’s my duty,” the clerk said, and his expression softened further.

Zhou Pian Ran and Xie Bao Guang finished soon after.

Zhou Pian Ran, with four spirit roots, received ten Cui Stones and five packets of each powder.

Xie Bao Guang, with five spirit roots, received only five Cui Stones and one packet of each powder.

Zhou Pian Ran barely reacted. Her heart wasn’t in cultivation, so the difference didn’t sting her the way it might have stung someone else. Zhao Chun, seeing that, didn’t waste words trying to comfort her.

Male disciples were assigned to Green Bamboo Garden on the west side. The girls parted ways with Xie Bao Guang and headed east together toward Daylily Garden.