Ling Ye, like the others, was instantly awed by the cave. He stood in amazement, captivated by its beauty. Having grown up seeing only the distant mountains and the vast skies above, he had never encountered anything as unique or breathtaking as this cave.
Though he wanted to linger a bit longer and take it all in, he didn't have the chance, the youths behind him began to gently push forward, eager to enter just as he had.
With no choice, he moved ahead until the group slowly gathered before a glassy pond at the end of the cave. Aside from the spacious gathering area, the pond was the only notable feature within the cavern.
Once all the youths had assembled in a nearly perfect formation, they waited in anticipation for what was to come. Then, the old man reappeared, hovering calmly above the pond.
His yellow eyes swept over the crowd of youths. Ling Ye could have sworn the old man was looking directly at him, but something about the gaze felt… strange. As if it wasn't focused on him alone.
"Maybe… he's looking at everyone at once?" Ling Ye thought, but he didn't dwell on it further.
"Silence," the old man said. His voice was gentle yet cold, quiet yet filled with undeniable authority.
Instantly, the already hushed cave fell into complete silence. No one dared to speak. Some didn't even dare to breathe.
"This pond before you is called the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond," the old man began, his tone solemn and calm. "It is a gift bestowed upon the Ling Clan by the heavens, a blessing for the future generations of our clan."
Hearing this, many of the youths could no longer contain their excitement. Pride swelled in their chests, their faces lit with awe for the great clan they were born into.
But the old man wasn't finished.
"This Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond is a unique heavenly treasure," the old man continued, his voice echoing gently across the cave. "It allows you, the younger generation, to be acknowledged by the Heavenly Dao. Not only that, this pond also helps refine your physical body. It is a sacred place of body tempering, designed specifically for mortals."
He let those words hang for a moment, then resumed.
"The waters of the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond do more than nourish your body. If the Heavenly Dao acknowledges you, the pond will also enhance your spiritual root. And for those with a natural affinity for the Water element, this may even be the opportunity to form a unique elemental connection within the pond itself."
At these words, murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd of youths. All eyes were now locked on the shimmering pond before them, filled with reverence and anticipation. To them, this was no ordinary trial, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity to ascend to a greater stage of existence.
Ling Ye was among them, his heart racing just like the others.
"So remember this well," the old man said, his tone deepening. "The deeper you go… the more of yourself you allow to be drowned within the waters of the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond… the greater the blessing you shall receive, and the higher the talent of the spiritual root you awaken."
He continued, but his voice lost a bit of its passion, becoming more mechanical, as if he had repeated this same speech to countless generations before.
"Those who fully submerge themselves will be reborn with a spiritual root. The deeper you go, the stronger the root and the greater your potential, but if you cannot even allow the water to cover your entire body… then you are not worthy of its blessing, and the Heavenly Dao has not acknowledged you."
The air grew heavy with silence as the weight of his words settled over the crowd.
From what Ling Ye understood, this trial was more than just a physical challenge. One needed to be acknowledged by the Heavenly Dao, then willingly allow their body to be completely submerged within the pond. The deeper and longer one could endure the spiritual drowning… the stronger the blessing, and the greater their spiritual root would become.
Ling Ye's eyes widened in surprise, after all, who would have expected that the so called sacred ritual involved drowning in a pond? It was the last thing he had imagined when he thought of the Hall of Spirituality.
"Truly strange…" he mused inwardly, but despite how bizarre the ritual seemed to him, he didn't voice his doubts. In the end, he settled on a simple truth, "The ways of the heavens are not meant to be understood by mere mortals."
Pushing aside the oddness of it all, Ling Ye clenched his fists lightly, trying to steady the nervous flutter rising in his chest.
Even if the ritual sounded unnerving, he wasn't someone who would shy away from it. Besides, the elder still hovered above the pond, silently watching over them. Surely, if someone were in real danger, he would intervene.
That thought alone was enough to reassure Ling Ye.
The fear of drowning began to fade from his heart, replaced by something far more powerful, ambition. He didn't want to be just another average cultivator, he wanted to rise above everyone here.
A confident smile slowly spread across his lips. He straightened his back, lifted his chin, and his deep black eyes shimmered with excitement and pride.
He wanted to be the first to dive in.
But of course, that wasn't an option, he had been placed in the middle group. As expected, the young masters and ladies of higher standing would be the first to enter the pond.
"Hmph, let them enjoy their brief moment in the spotlight," Ling Ye muttered to himself, a faint, mocking grin playing on his lips. "The moment I step in… no one will even remember their names."
The first young master stepped forward and entered the waters. As expected of a noble lineage, he awakened a spiritual root without issue, it was tradition in the Ling Clan.
One by one, the others followed. Each youth stepped into the pond and resurfaced moments later with a spiritual root of their own. Only a few failed, unable to fully submerge themselves in the waters, they were not acknowledged by the heavens.
Aside from those few, the rest succeeded, though none ventured particularly deep into the pond.
Because of that, most only managed to awaken a Mixed Spiritual Root, and a handful barely reached the threshold of a Pure Spiritual Root.
Ling Ye silently observed, eyes sharp. From the corner of his gaze, he noticed the old man floating above the pond. The elder's face was hard to read, but a faint frown had formed between his brows, clear disappointment etched in his expression.
That was… until one youth stepped deeper into the pond.
As the ripples faded, a radiant light surrounded the boy. The moment his body surfaced, a glowing sigil flared to life above him, marking his awakening.
The elder's expression shifted at once.
"A True Spiritual Root..." Ling Ye whispered to himself, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"So someone finally broke the pattern. Interesting..." but rather than feel intimidated, Ling Ye's heart ignited with even more determination. He would go even further.
Soon after, two more youths awakened True Spiritual Roots, but unlike the first, they received no praise. The elder merely nodded slightly and continued watching in silence.
Ling Ye took note of it. Even True Spiritual Roots weren't enough to impress him.
His hunch was confirmed when the elder let out a disappointed sigh, his expression unchanged. It seemed even the few "elite" talents among them hadn't met his expectations.
With the early group now finished, the elder's gaze shifted toward the remaining youths, those who had yet to enter the pond. For a brief moment, a small flicker of hope returned to his ancient eyes.
"Next," the old man called out, his voice calm but laced with expectation.
The first youth not born into the clan's main lineage stepped forward. With slow, steady movements, he entered the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond. To everyone's surprise, he continued deeper and deeper, farther than most had dared to go.
At last, he could go no further… and in that moment, the water around him pulsed with light.
A glowing sigil erupted from the surface.
He had been blessed with a True Spiritual Root, but this wasn't just any True Spiritual Root. It was a dual-aspect root, two elemental natures intertwined in perfect harmony.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Ling Ye, like the others, was stunned. While dual attributes could occasionally appear in lesser spiritual roots, to see such a formation in a True Spiritual Root was rare beyond belief.
This kind of root wasn't just rare, it signified exceptional potential. It meant superior compatibility with techniques, faster cultivation, and the possibility of comprehending multiple paths of the Dao.
A gift few could ever hope to obtain.
"Good, good!" the old man exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with rare joy. He even let out a small chuckle, clearly pleased with what he had witnessed.
The youth smiled brightly and bowed respectfully to the elder before stepping out of the pond. His confidence and pride were justified, but with such an impressive result from the first member of the common-born group, the pressure on the next participant became immense.
The following youth walked forward under the weight of heavy expectations, but faltered.
He entered the pond and managed only to wade in waist deep before freezing.
"Huh? Why can't I move forward?" he muttered, confusion spreading across his face.
The old man said nothing. He simply sighed and waved his hand.
A gentle force pushed the boy back toward the edge of the pond, leaving him soaked and defeated, his legs dripping with water, and his heart drained of ambition and hope.
"Next," the elder said flatly, his tone calm and unchanged.
One by one, more youths stepped into the pond. Many failed to receive any blessing and were quietly sent back, disappointment etched into their faces. A few, however, succeeded, though their spiritual roots were modest at best, Mortal Spiritual Roots, or if fortunate, Impure Spiritual Roots.
Even so, those who were blessed fell to their knees in gratitude. Tears welled in their eyes as they thanked the heavens again and again, their faces alight with joy and reverence.
Ling Ye watched in silence, thoughtful.
"These youths… they must come from the non-pure bloodlines, just like the outer disciple told me. To them, even the lowest spiritual root is a gift from the heavens, a chance to change their fate and truly become part of the Clan. In the morning, they were powerless mortals. By evening, cultivators destined to soar through the skies."
Moved by the sight, Ling Ye's thoughts drifted to a book he had once read, a biography of the Founding Ancestor of the Ling Clan.
That great figure had started with even less. Born to an ordinary mortal family, with no cultivators in his lineage, he too had faced the impossible. Yet by fortune or fate, he had been blessed by the heavens.
And from that humble beginning… he rose.
He forged the path, founded the Clan, and built the legacy that they all stood upon today.
With those memories swirling in his mind, more time passed. A few more youths were blessed, many were not… and now, it was Ling Ye's turn.
Standing before the shimmering surface of the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond, Ling Ye's heart began to pound. Heat surged through his body, not from the pond, but from within, a strange burning sensation, as if something inside him was stirring.
Just as he stepped forward, the old man floating above the pond looked at him with surprise and furrowed brows.
"Little Ye?" the elder asked aloud, confusion in his voice.
As the old Senior spoke, Ling Ye, still full of excitement, looked up and nodded, confirming the senior's suspicion.
Seeing that it truly was Ling Ye, the Senior rubbed his head, clearly puzzled. "Why is he not among the young masters and ladies?" he wondered. Even the other young masters, now recognizing Ling Ye's face, looked at each other in confusion.
None of them understood why he wasn't standing with them as usual.
"Anyway, go on," the Senior finally said, waving his hand dismissively. He clearly didn't want to waste more thought on it.
Taking that as the signal, Ling Ye stepped forward with a bright smile on his face.
Without glancing back, he placed his foot into the Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond, Ling Ye unkownenly began to glow a little and immediately as he took the first step he felt as if his leg had been rooted to the ground.
Surprised by the weight, Ling Ye looked down. "Why does it feel like this after only one step?" he wondered. Still confused, he forced a second step. This time, it required effort, he had to channel strength into his legs just to lift them from the water.
Each step grew heavier than the last. The pond resisted him like a living force, pressing down on his limbs. Gritting his teeth, Ling Ye refused to give in to the pain.
"Grit your teeth… This is only the beginning. If I can't even endure this, how could I ever impress him?" he roared silently in his mind.
With all his willpower, he forced another step forward, the glowing light that Ling Ye radied shined more and more.
It was said that twenty steps into the pond would fully submerge the body, marking the threshold for a Mortal Spiritual Root, the lowest grade, but Ling Ye was already gasping for air by the time he reached just five steps.
"Haa… haa…" Ling Ye's ragged breaths grew heavier with each passing moment. His body felt like it was being crushed under a mountain's weight. Every part of him ached, but his mind burned with madness.
"One more! Just one more step!!" he roared inside his head like a madman.
Fueled by sheer willpower and desperation, he forced himself forward, taking three more steps. Now he had reached the seventh step, but after that, his body began to show signs of breaking.
Blood wept from the corners of his eyes, and his fingernails dug deep into his palms, piercing the skin. Despite the agony, he somehow lifted his leg again. Yet there was no joy in him, no pride. Only one thought echoed in his mind, "Another step. Just… another… step."
He gritted his teeth so hard it felt like they might shatter.
Watching from above, the old elder's expression softened with pity, seeing that the light he radied slowly fades away. "At this rate… he won't even reach the tenth step." The old elder could already tell, Ling Ye's body wasn't built to endure more than that. The tenth would be his absolute limit, letting the light truly fade completly away.
The elder sighed and slowly closed his eyes, wondering if he should pull Ling Ye out now… or allow him to continue. Perhaps, just perhaps, he might be one of those rare cases where desperation sparked a miracle, but even those rare cultivators never amounted to much. They were nothing more than weak flames flickering in the wind.
While the old man wrestled with his decision, Ling Ye finally pushed himself forward once more. Every nerve in his body screamed, every breath burned in his lungs and then…
He took the ninth step, but unlike before, his legs gave out entirely.
With a splash, Ling Ye collapsed into the pond, the light that he glowed out fade completly away, looking nothing more like a normal mortal.
The sound made the elder snap his eyes open, immediately checking for danger, but as he saw Ling Ye flailing in the water, his brows furrowed, not from panic, but from realization.
"He can't stand up anymore…" the elder thought. "His body has reached its limit and the heavenly Dao doesn't acknowledge him."
Ling Ye couldn't stand up. His palms were bloodied from his own torn skin, and his legs refused to move, as if they were crippled.
Half submerged in the water, he gritted his teeth and struggled, but it was useless. His strength was gone.
"Another step…" That thought echoed in his mind, stubborn and desperate. But no matter how hard he tried, his body wouldn't obey. Finally, he collapsed to his knees in the shallow pond.
He glanced down at himself. His robes clung heavily to his body, drenched through. His bloodied hands trembled, and the red that bled from the corners of his eyes made it seem like the world itself had turned crimson.
And then, still and breathless, he saw his reflection in the water.
"Pathetic," he muttered, barely recognizing the reflection staring back, bloodied, trembling, beaten. Was this really him?
Ling Ye lay there, chest rising and falling in silence. For the first time, he couldn't think clearly, just emptiness and in the emtiness, Ling Ye saw a flicker in the reflections of the water, he saw yellow eyes that pierced like glass.
Cold, yellow eyes.
Ling Ye froze.
He lifted his gaze slowly and looked above him. There, standing in an illusionary form, was a man in blue robes with long sleeves, long black hair, and piercing golden eyes.
A man who looked like he had stepped out of his old memories, the few that he had with him.
"Father," Ling Ye whispered quitly, happy and sad as his currently bloodied state was, he looked pathatic now.
Though he had barely seen each other throughout their lifes. Yet in that single glance, those yellow eyes struck him harder than any pain his body had endured in the pond, but something about his father's gaze was different that they were usual. They weren't cold… or at least not in the same way as usual. They weren't even aloof or indifferent.
Ling Ye couldn't quite name the feeling in them, until the world shifted.
In an instant, he was no longer in the pond.
He stood in a crowd. A crowd of silent, defeated youths. Some knelt on the ground, whispering desperate prayers to the heavens, begging for a second chance. Others simply stared blankly ahead, their eyes dark, hollow and lost.
Ling Ye blinked, confused. Then he heard it. A quiet voice filled with pity, "No spiritual root."
The moment he heard those words, the truth sank in.
He looked around once more, and in the broken expressions of those surrounding him, he saw it.
Disappointment.
His throat tightened. "That look in Father's eyes… It wasn't coldness. It wasn't even contempt. It was disappointment."
Tears welled in his eyes, but no one cared, afterall many others were crying their own silent tears.