In an unfamiliar room, Ling Ye lay sleeping on a thin blanket, surrounded by many others. As the morning sun began to rise, its light slipped through the window and shone directly onto his face.
"Hmm…?" He stirred awake, brows furrowed in confusion. Still groggy and disoriented, Ling Ye glanced around, quickly realizing this wasn't his room.
Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked more closely and saw dozens of other youths lying beside him, some still asleep, others just beginning to wake.
Then, a sudden dark thought crept into his mind.
"Was I… kidnapped?"
A chill ran down his spine. His body tensed as a wave of fear surged through him.
"How could this happen? In Father's mansion, no less… Who would dare?"
He clenched his fists, shaken by the thought and the uncertainty of what had happened. Not knowing what else to do, Ling Ye let out a deep sigh, but as he moved his head slightly, a sharp pain suddenly struck.
Grimacing, he reached up and gently massaged his temples. To his surprise, the area where the pain had struck showed no signs of injury, no cut, no bruise and not even a bump.
That small detail only deepened his confusion.
"Was I poisoned?" he suddenly wondered, panic flaring in his chest. His heart began to race. The aftereffects of poison could damage his body, or worse, kill him, if an antidote wasn't taken in time.
He sighed again, leaning back against the cold stone wall. With no clue what to do next, Ling Ye instinctively turned to the countless stories he had read about the heroes of his clan.
Closing his eyes, he recalled one of the most important lessons repeated time and again in those tales: Stay calm.
The most revered figures in the Ling Clan's history were known for their calmness and patience. Those were the core values of the clan and now, more than ever, Ling Ye knew he needed to embody them.
So, he focused on his breathing, calming his thoughts and letting the panic subside.
As his mind gradually steadied, he began to notice something strange, a pressure in his stomach. It wasn't painful, but it felt… unnatural.
"What should I do?" he wondered, beginning to accept the possibility that he really had been kidnapped. "How can I contact Wang Xin? Is she already looking for me after realizing I'm not in my room?"
Ling Ye racked his brain for answers, desperately trying to recall what might have happened. How had he ended up here? Why couldn't he remember?
And then, like a haunting echo, a question repeated in his mind, "How did they even manage to kidnap me?"
Suddenly, a sharp memory surged forward, vivid and jarring.
He remembered… saying farewell to Wang Xin. Then flying through the sky with the middle-aged senior. They were headed to the Hall of Spirituality.
"Yes! The Hall of Spirituality… and the senior who brought me there! Where is he?"
Ling Ye bolted upright, scanning the room in urgency. Dozens of youths lay around him, all roughly his age, no older than sixteen, but the senior was nowhere to be seen.
"Did he die…?" Ling Ye whispered, his face paling at the thought. He stared down at the thin blanket covering him, trying to process what could have happened, but then, another memory surfaced, the moment he parted ways with the senior.
"Right… we separated at the foot of one of the Nine Peaks. He didn't wait for me, he left. I was supposed to wait for an outer disciple!" His eyes lit up with sudden realization. "Yes, the outer disciple!"
Relief started to build, until a darker possibility crept in, one he didn't want to accept.
"Was I… kidnapped by the outer disciple? While we were walking toward the Hall of Spirituality?" he murmured, his voice faltering.
The idea struck him like a bolt of cold lightning. A chill ran down his spine.
Being taken from outside the clan's territory was one thing… but from within the Nine Peaks? That would mean the Ling Clan had been breached. And if that had happened and he was in this condition, then maybe… the clan had even lost?
His mind spun. Fear clouded his thoughts. But as he glanced around the room once more, something strange caught his attention.
None of the other youths looked hurt. None were tied up or panicked. In fact, they all looked completely normal, just waking up peacefully, like him.
"Strange…" Ling Ye muttered, narrowing his eyes. "If we were kidnapped… why are there no wounds? No bindings? Why is there no fear in their eyes?"
The more he looked, the less sense it made. The fear in his chest began to shift into something else, doubt.
A new thought slowly took form in his mind.
"Could it be… we weren't kidnapped at all?"
Still frowning in confusion, he closed his eyes and focused, trying to piece everything together and then, suddenly, a memory came back, clearer now.
A pair of eyes. Cold, disappointed, glowing yellow, flashed in his mind. His eyes snapped open in shock.
He would always recognize those yellow eyes, because he had longed to see them more often… to make their owner proud.
They were his father's eyes.
Ling Ye's chest tightened. His vision blurred as tears welled up. More memories suddenly came flooding back.
The outer disciple's offer to join their faction. The Spiritual Drowning Blessed Pond. The final moment… when the Heavens rejected him and with that, everything clicked into place.
He hadn't been kidnapped. No one had taken him away.
He had simply collapsed, right there at the pond, along with the others who had failed to awaken their spiritual roots.
He had failed.
Everything he had dreamed of. Everything he had worked toward. It was gone.
They must have carried him here, like the rest, those deemed unworthy. Worthless mortals. And once he was safely placed in this room to recover, they left him behind.
"Haha…" A bitter laugh escaped his lips. It was dry, shaky, and hollow, completely devoid of the pride and confidence that had once lit his eyes.
A crooked smile twisted across his face, cracked by heartbreak.
"So… the heavens didn't acknowledge me and with that… I've disappointed Father…"
His gaze fell, eyes turning dull and empty, filled with sorrow, confusion, and something darker he couldn't name.
His bitter laughter echoed faintly through the quiet room, stirring several of the others from their sleep. Like him, they looked confused at first, but unlike him, they seemed to accept the truth far more easily.
As the morning passed, everyone eventually stirred. One by one, they came to terms with the harsh reality, they had not been acknowledged by the heavens and would never be allowed to walk the path of cultivation.
They would never become cultivators.
Only Ling Ye remained apart, unable, or perhaps unwilling to accept it.
He sat motionless, staring down at the thin blanket beneath him, his expression hollow, teetering on the edge of madness.
Some of the other mortals glanced at him with quiet sympathy, sharing in the disappointment. A few even approached him, offering soft words of comfort or encouragement, but Ling Ye didn't responded. He didn't even looked at them.
He remained trapped in his own silent world, drowning in the wreckage of his broken ambitions.
"Sigh… a lost cause," someone whispered nearby, their voice tinged with regret.
Others nodded, casting Ling Ye one last glance before turning away.
Time slipped by. The mood in the room settled into quiet resignation. The dream had ended. Then, the door creaked open.
It was the outer disciple, the same man who had once offered Ling Ye a place in his faction.
"Now that you're all awake," he began, his voice calm and steady, "it's time to accept the truth. You will never become cultivators, but that does not mean your lives are meaningless. There are many cultivators who envy the peace of a mortal life. So live well. Live fully. Let go of today. Forget it… and focus on tomorrow."
He made no mention of his faction or the offer he'd once given Ling Ye. There were no special words, no soft reassurances, only the cold truth spoken with a strange gentleness, a quiet understanding.
Some nodded. A few whispered their thanks as they slowly stood and began to file out of the room.
All but one, only Ling Ye remained in the room, alone.
Still leaning against the wall, silent, lost in a storm that no one else could see.
"Sigh…" The outer disciple exhaled heavily, unsure of what to say anymore. He looked at Ling Ye with quiet pity, his thoughts drifting back to the conversation they had shared before parting ways.
"Heaven truly has its ways…" he murmured to himself.
Not long ago, he had offered this boy a future of glory, a place within a rising faction, a chance to cultivate and rise above the rest, but now… that future would never come. Ling Ye would never be part of it. He would never live long enough to see it bloom.
With a deep breath, the outer disciple clapped his hands sharply, snapping Ling Ye from his daze.
Startled, Ling Ye looked up, blinking. A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips, but the outer disciple didn't return it. His voice, when he spoke, was colder and more distant.
"You need to leave. The seniors want the new juniors to remain here."
There was no cruelty in his tone, only finality.
Ling Ye didn't argue. He simply nodded and stood up, his movements slow and numb. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room.
With no clear destination in mind, he wandered aimlessly through the clan grounds, his thoughts shrouded in despair. Somehow, whether by habit or fate, his feet led him back to the only place that had ever felt like home, the Library Courtyard.
The moment he stepped inside, a single tear slipped down his cheek.
His eyes were sunken, ringed with dark exhaustion. His body felt heavier than ever. Around him, cultivators continued to enter and exit the courtyard as if nothing had changed, because to them, nothing had.
There was no day or night within the Library Courtyard. Time flowed quietly and yet, no one greeted him. No one even glanced in his direction.
He was just another failed youth now. A mortal. Someone not worth remembering.
Once, his arrival would have earned warm greetings, respectful nods, perhaps even eager conversation and now?
Now, he was invisible.
Ling Ye let out a shaky breath and offered himself a weak, bitter smile as the truth fully settled into his chest.
"Of course no one expected me to come back," he thought. "Why would they?"
"Hehe…" Ling Ye let out a bitter chuckle at himself and kept walking toward the tallest mountain in the Library Courtyard, the one that towered above all the others like a silent guardian.
His legs ached with every step, but eventually, he arrived at the base of the familiar peak.
No one stood guard. There was only a long, winding staircase stretching endlessly toward the summit. Without hesitation, Ling Ye placed his foot on the first step. With each stair he climbed, disappointment settled heavier on his shoulders, like stones added one by one to a burden he could no longer carry.
His thoughts drifted to Wang Xin and the image of her saddened expression flashed vividly in his mind.
The thought alone made him stop mid step.
He bit his lower lip, his gaze dropping to the cold stone beneath his feet.
"She must be so disappointed…" he whispered, but he didn't turn back.
Taking a deep breath, Ling Ye gathered the last of his strength and continued the climb. Step by step, breath by breath, until at last, the mansion came into view.
It was Quiet with the wind quite blowing around his skin and the familiar air around gave him warmth, it is truly his home, the place where he grew up.
For the first time that day, a faint smile broke across Ling Ye's face.
He stepped forward and gently pushed open the front doors. They swung inward with ease, as if welcoming him back.
The heat of the outside world disappeared the moment he entered. Cool, comforting air embraced him like an old friend. His smile deepened, and for a brief moment, the hollowness in his eyes softened.
He wandered through the quiet corridors, tracing a path he had walked a hundred times before, but as he turned toward the hallway that led to his room, he stopped.
Someone was there.
Someone he didn't want to face right now.
She sat alone by the window, perched on a chair as if she'd been waiting there for hours. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, staring out beyond the glass.
Her expression is unreadable and cold.
Colder than anything Ling Ye had ever seen on her face before and after a moment, she had noticed him walking, her eyes shifted toward him.
The coldness in her eyes didn't faded, if anything, it sharpened, becoming clearer and heavy.
Ling Ye froze.
He had never seen Wang Xin look at him like this. It wasn't just cold. This gaze was painfully familiar to him. Painfully familiar and then it struck him.
Those weren't merely cold eyes, they were the same disappointed eyes he had seen once before, from his father's yellow eyes.
The realization drained all color from Ling Ye's face. He stood rooted to the spot, his throat tight, unable to speak even a single word.
Wang Xin glanced at him one last time. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she clicked her tongue in annoyance and turned away.
Just before she disappeared around the corner, she muttered something, so softly that Ling Ye almost missed it, but he heard it.
The word echoed in his mind like thunder.
"Waste…"
The sound crushed what little strength he had left.
Ling Ye lowered his head, staring blankly at the floor beneath his feet, as if it might crumble along with him. The faint smile that had lingered on his lips vanished without a trace.
Silence swallowed him whole.