Blood-Forged Ascension

Morning broke in the mountains with chill grey light.

Wei Lian arrived early at Copper Hall.

He sat in the back corner on a cracked mat. His robe was patched, damp from last night's freezing wash in the creek.

He said nothing.

He watched.

Outer disciples drifted in, settling on mats with hushed curses about the cold.

Some wore fresh robes with clan insignias.

Most didn't.

They all had something he didn't.

Spirit roots.

Elder Mu entered in silence.

He sat cross-legged on the raised platform.

Silence fell.

He let it linger until even the bravest disciple wouldn't meet his gaze.

Then he rasped:

"Breathe."

They obeyed.

Wei Lian closed his eyes.

Air rattled through bruised ribs.

The ember of Qi in his dantian flickered.

He forced himself to inhale deeper.

Pain cut through him.

He accepted it.

"Good," Elder Mu said at last. "At least you insects can follow one command."

He scanned them, eyes cold and flat.

"Listen carefully. Your spirit root is your fate. Heaven decided it before you took your first breath."

He let the words settle like ash.

"There are three roots in the Mortal Realm."

He raised a thin, bony finger.

"Human Root. Common as dirt. Found in most. Poor affinity for Qi. You'll crawl while others run."

A few disciples dropped their eyes.

Another finger.

"Earth Root. One in a million births. Solid. Steady. Holds Qi well. The kind of disciple sects want in numbers. They can build a foundation others depend on."

Some in the crowd straightened with pride.

Wei Lian didn't move.

Elder Mu lifted his last finger.

"Heaven Root."

Silence.

"One in a hundred million. Heaven's favorite. Perfect affinity. Qi comes to them as easily as breath. They don't cultivate—they command."

He lowered his hand.

"I've seen two in my life. Neither stayed here. Xuandao can't hold such talent. It was never meant to."

His gaze swept the room.

"Remember this. The world doesn't care about your effort. It cares what you were born with. Cry about it if you want. It won't listen."

Silence pressed on the hall like a weight.

Wei Lian didn't blink.

Didn't ask questions.

He watched Elder Mu's face.

Old. Hard. Unforgiving.

Class ended.

Disciples gathered their robes and left in muttering groups.

"Harsh bastard."

"True though."

"Jin Xiu's Earth Root. He's practically guaranteed Inner Disciple."

"And that cripple in the back? He's got nothing."

Wei Lian heard it all.

He didn't react.

He stood last.

The work board waited outside.

LATRINE DUTY – WEI LIAN

He read it without blinking.

Picked up the shovel.

He spent the day hauling stinking sludge down the slippery cliff path.

Blood from his palms slicked the handle.

He didn't stop.

He didn't slow.

At dusk he washed in the freezing creek.

The water was black with runoff.

He sat on the bank, breath steaming.

Hands shaking.

He pressed them to his dantian.

Closed his eyes.

Breathed.

Found the ember of Qi.

Weak.

Flickering.

He fed it his pain.

His silence.

His stubbornness.

He didn't curse Heaven.

Didn't ask for mercy.

He just kept breathing.

Waiting for tomorrow.

Because tomorrow, he would do it all again.