The Hall of Spirituality.
Standing before it, Ling Ye felt a sudden weight settle on his shoulders and with each step forward, that weight only grew heavier.
His heart pounded faster. Even though he was confident in himself, a lingering fear gnawed at the edge of his thoughts. What if… what if his talent is too low? What if he embarrass himself in front of everyone?
His hands began to tremble at the thought, nerves creeping in the more he imagined such a possibility, but after just a few more steps, he stopped, took a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down.
"It doesn't matter how much I overthink. I have to keep moving forward. Overthinking won't change anything. I'll still have to take this step. As the Ancestor once said: Every journey begins with a single step."
With that thought, Ling Ye's mind cleared, his eyes sharpened, and a calm, focused confidence returned to his expression.
The outer disciple escorting him didn't seem to notice his moment of hesitation and continued walking without pause. However, as they drew closer to the sealed gates of the Hall of Spirituality, the disciple's steps began to slow slightly, his posture relaxing.
Noticing this, Ling Ye could tell something was about to happen. Judging by their distance to the hall, he guessed the outer disciple's duty as a guide would soon come to an end.
A small, excited smile appeared on Ling Ye's lips. With the pressure momentarily eased, he relaxed his body and began walking more naturally. His steps became steadier, more elegant, no longer glued to the ground out of caution, he now had the freedom to look around and take in the sacred place he had long dreamt of seeing.
Looking to his right, near the Hall of Spirituality, Ling Ye noticed a crowd beginning to gather. His gaze lingered there for a moment, it was the largest group of people he had seen since entering the inner area of the Nine Peaks.
As he looked more closely, he recognized a few familiar faces, youths around his own age. Among them was a distant cousin he remembered meeting at a social gathering when he was younger.
Recognizing that cousin, Ling Ye quickly understood: these gathered youths were just like him, waiting for the Hall of Spirituality to open, preparing to walk the path of cultivation.
As Ling Ye and the outer disciple approached the great hall, Ling Ye pushed aside his curiosity and kept his gaze straight ahead. Eventually, they stopped before the sealed, towering gates of the Hall itself. Ling Ye's eyes naturally wandered as he took in the sheer grandeur of the sacred building, awe lighting up his face.
The outer disciple did not interrupt him. Instead, he quietly turned around to give Ling Ye space and looked back at the crowd of waiting youths.
Their eyes sparkled with excitement and ambition, filled with dreams of glory. Watching them, the outer disciple let out a long, tired sigh. His gaze darkened, and a shadow passed over his face as old memories stirred within him.
Ling Ye finally returned from his daze and noticed the man staring at the crowd. He followed his line of sight and found himself looking at the same group of youths.
He glanced at the outer disciple's face and for the first time, the cold, stoic expression had cracked. In those quiet golden eyes, Ling Ye saw something unexpected, a deep, haunting sadness.
Not understanding what this expression meant, Ling Ye chose not to ask. Instead, he smiled with full confidence, showing no hint of fear or hesitation in his face or body.
Naturally, this didn't escape the outer disciple's notice. After a long moment of silence, he finally spoke, for the first time since they had arrived.
"Do you know how many are actually blessed with a spiritual root?"
Hearing the calm, quiet question, Ling Ye turned toward the outer disciple, clearly confused. He hadn't expected something like that.
Though puzzled, Ling Ye thought for a moment, then slowly shook his head. He had never truly read about such statistics, and if he had known the answer, he was certain he would have remembered it.
Seeing Ling Ye's reaction, the outer disciple smiled faintly, a knowing smile tinged with sadness.
"When I stood where you are now," he said softly, "I asked myself the question before I became a cultivator. Just like you, I stood here, looked around, and wondered who among us would not be chosen."
He paused briefly, then continued in a quieter voice.
"I was fortunate. I was one of the few blessed with a decent spiritual root, but many others…" He shook his head. "Many weren't even granted a poor one."
Ling Ye frowned, confusion deepening. He couldn't quite grasp what the outer disciple was trying to say. While he didn't know how many people failed to awaken a spiritual root, he did know this much, the Ling Clan was a blessed clan, favored by the heavens and renowned for producing talents.
It was even commonly said that as long as one possessed Ling blood, they would become a cultivator and Ling Ye was no ordinary member, he was the grandson of a former Clan Head and the first son of the Fifteenth Young Master. Multiple tests conducted during his childhood had confirmed the purity of his bloodline.
Unable to stay silent, Ling Ye voiced his thoughts.
"I don't understand why you're asking me this," he said confidently. "I have a pure bloodline. With the Hall of Spirituality and the heavens blessing our clan, I will definitely awaken a spiritual root. Whether it's good or bad doesn't matter, but I will have one."
He spoke without hesitation, pride evident in his voice. A faint smirk even appeared on his lips as he continued.
"This is common knowledge. Every Ling youth learns this, pure blooded or not. It's even more widely known that those with purer bloodlines possess greater talent."
The outer disciple listened quietly as Ling Ye spoke of blessings, bloodlines, and destiny. When Ling Ye finally finished, the man let out a soft, bitter chuckle, one that held no mockery, only quiet resignation.
"Hehe… do you really believe that?" the outer disciple said softly. "I thought that, as the youth known as the bookworm of the Library, you would be more knowledgeable. But it seems the knowledge given to you is… limited."
Ling Ye froze, stunned by the remark. He hadn't expected such blunt words.
"I'll tell you a small secret, Ling Ye," the outer disciple continued quietly.
At once, Ling Ye's eyes lit up with curiosity. A secret? From an outer disciple?
"Although the Ling Clan is indeed blessed, that blessing does not extend equally, especially to those of non pure bloodlines. I myself come from a very thin bloodline."
He paused, then spoke slowly, letting each word sink in.
"Do you know how many non pure blood youths awaken a spiritual root each year? Barely twenty."
Ling Ye's eyes widened.
"And now for the pure-blooded," the outer disciple continued. "One in three."
Ling Ye sucked in a breath. "One in three?" he repeated in disbelief.
The outer disciple nodded.
"Yes. One in three. The heavens truly favor the pure blood of the Ling Clan… while largely abandoning the rest. Non pure bloodlines are given only a slightly better chance than mortals."
He let out a deep sigh, calming himself as the emotion faded from his voice. Then he looked back at Ling Ye and offered a faint, knowing smile.
"Ling Ye, our faction has taken an interest in you. We wish to support you on your cultivation path."
Ling Ye's shock deepened, his thoughts momentarily scattering.
"After you join the Academy," the outer disciple continued, "I hope you'll consider Joining our faction when the time comes to choose."
Before Ling Ye could respond or even fully process the offer, the outer disciple shook his head lightly.
"Don't decide now. Focus first on the Hall of Spirituality. Once you arrive at the Academy, we'll meet again. Then we can talk."
He smiled faintly, as if already certain they would speak again.
Ling Ye had several questions forming in his mind, but none made it past his lips. He opened his mouth slightly, only to close it again, unsure of what to say. In the end, he simply nodded.
Noticing Ling Ye's confused and stunned expression, the outer disciple gave a faint smile and shook his head before stepping forward. Now standing directly in front of the grand gate, he turned and glanced back.
"Anyway, let's continue with the ritual," he said calmly. "Place your hand anywhere on the gate. Doing so will register you and grant you permission to enter the Hall of Spirituality with the others later."
Snapping out of his daze, Ling Ye nodded quietly and stepped forward. Now standing beside the outer disciple, he took a steady breath and slowly raised his hand, pressing his palm against the massive stone gate.
The moment his skin touched the surface, a soft blue glow formed beneath his hand, outlining his palm. The light shimmered briefly, then began to fade. Strangely, his hand dropped back to his side on its own, even though he hadn't moved it. Ling Ye blinked, startled by the involuntary reaction.
Before he could dwell on it further, the outer disciple spoke again with a calm smile. "Go and join the other youths now. An elder will arrive shortly to explain the rest. With that, my duty as your guide ends here. I hope that the next time we meet, you and I will be fellow brothers of the same faction."
Without waiting for a reply or even revealing the name of his faction, the man turned and walked away, never once looking back, as if certain Ling Ye would accept his offer.
Ling Ye watched him go, his thoughts tangled in uncertainty. The offer echoed in his mind, mixing with the growing tension of what was soon to come.
"Haa…" Ling Ye sighed softly. As the figure of the outer disciple disappeared from view, he suddenly became aware of the disapproving stares directed at him. He was still standing in front of the gate, unintentionally blocking the way for others waiting behind him.
A few of the youths snorted impatiently, not bothering to hide their irritation. Others shot him sharp glances, clearly annoyed.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Ling Ye quickly stepped aside, earning a few more glares in the process. He didn't respond to the cold looks or the subtle insults. Instead, he quietly made his way toward the gathered group of youths, but even there, several individuals subtly shifted away, widening the space between them, clearly unwilling to associate with him.
Perplexed by their behavior, Ling Ye gave them a puzzled glance, but remained silent. He kept to himself, choosing not to make a scene, and simply turned his gaze upward, watching the calm, cloudless sky.
Time passed slowly.
More and more young cultivators began to arrive, gathering in front of the Hall of Spirituality. The open space gradually grew crowded, and Ling Ye estimated that over five hundred youths had now assembled.
As the crowd grew denser, Ling Ye began to feel warm again. It didn't take long to realize that the blue pill he had received earlier, back when he was flying through the sky with the middle aged senior, was starting to wear off.
Even so, he wasn't bothered. The heat here on the ground wasn't nearly as oppressive as it was in the sky, so he didn't give it much thought.
Instead, he turned his attention to the murmur of voices around him. To his surprise, many of the other youths were talking about the same blue pill, sharing their experiences and reactions.
This revelation surprised not only him, but many others as well. After all, alchemical pills were extremely rare and typically inaccessible to mortals. It didn't matter whether one came from a wealthy or poor background, or whether their bloodline was pure or diluted, normally, none of them would have had the chance to even touch such a pill.
Ling Ye had assumed the pill was a special gift, perhaps a sign of special treatment, but now, listening to the casual way the others spoke of it, one truth became painfully clear, he was not being treated any differently from anyone else.
As time passed, the illusion of being "special" slowly began to unravel in Ling Ye's mind. The pride he carried quietly within him started to fade, layer by layer, but just as these thoughts settled in, his attention was caught by a familiar face, another young master of the Ling Clan.
It was Ling Shen.
Though Ling Ye had always been somewhat of an outsider, quiet, withdrawn, and rarely acknowledged by the other youths of the clan, he still recognized many of the prominent young masters and noble daughters and Ling Shen was among the most well known.
Unlike Ling Ye, Ling Shen wasn't waiting among the crowd.
He stood confidently beside the great gate, poised and composed, as though it were his rightful place.
And he wasn't alone.
More noble youths began to arrive, young elites of the clan. One by one, they took their places near the great gate, clearly separated from the common crowd. Ling Ye recognized them all. Their robes were more elaborate, their gazes steady, their posture filled with pride.
They carried themselves with a natural sense of belonging.
Unlike him.
A flicker of doubt crept into Ling Ye's heart. His eyes lingered on the gathering nobles, and a question rose in his mind, "Did the outer disciple give me the wrong instructions?"
"Should I be standing by the gate too?" but even as the uncertainty built, he remained still. Maybe the others were wrong. Maybe he had been guided correctly or maybe… even now, despite his pure bloodline, he still wasn't qualified to stand with them.
He didn't know. So, in the end, he said nothing and stayed exactly where he was.
Time ticked on, heavy and silent, until finally, the gate creaked open. From within stepped an old man. His back was straight, his long white robe fluttering gently in the breeze. His hair was grey, his face lined with the wrinkles of age and yet, despite his frail appearance, his yellow eyes shone with an intensity that silenced the crowd.
The old man's gaze swept across the gathered youths. In that moment, Ling Ye felt as though those eyes had seen straight through him, his fear, his hope, his uncertainty, all laid bare with a single glance.
They reminded him of someone.
His father.
But where his father's gaze was cold and distant, the old man's eyes were sharp, sharp like a sword drawn halfway from its scabbard and in that moment, Ling Ye stood straighter.
He didn't know who this elder was, but something deep within him wanted to be acknowledged by those eyes.
"Okay everyone, everything is prepared. Form a line and we will enter the Hall of Spirituality," the old man announced. His voice, though gentle, gave Ling Ye the distinct impression that he didn't truly care about them. It felt like the old man merely wanted the day to pass as quickly as possible.
Still, despite the feeling, Ling Ye had no choice but to obey.
The instructions were clear, young masters and ladies would go first, followed by the rest.
Ling Ye glanced toward the group of young nobles ahead, wanting to join them, but the distance between them was just enough to make him hesitate. Instead, he stepped in behind a few other youths, and the line slowly began to take form.
"Alright, follow me!" the old man's voice echoed again, prompting the line to move forward.
One by one, the youths entered the Hall of Spirituality. As Ling Ye stepped across the threshold, he immediately sensed a shift, something subtle, yet unmistakable. It felt... strange. Not uncomfortable, but eerily familiar.
But he didn't have time to dwell on it.
The line continued moving, and Ling Ye quickly noticed something else, they weren't simply walking through the hall, they were descending.
The further they went, the clearer it became. They had already walked at least a kilometer, but the Hall above hadn't seemed large enough to contain such distance. That's when he realized, they were heading underground.
And then, ahead of him, he heard several gasps.
The line slowed.
Ling Ye's heart pounded in anticipation. His earlier thoughts vanished, swept away by growing excitement. He couldn't wait to see what had made the others react like that.
Finally, he stepped through the end of the passage... and entered a vast underground cave.
The sight tingled his skin and his breath caught.
The Cave was massive, easily the size of the entire Hall above. Yet there was hardly any ground. Instead, a still, crystal clear pond stretched across the cavern, its surface so calm it looked like glass. Crystals, like frozen stars, hung above in impossible constellations.
And what a ceiling it was.
Above them, countless crystal like structures, or were they stars? Glimmered faintly, bathing the cave in a serene, otherworldly light. Ling Ye couldn't tell if they were natural crystals or something more mystical, but their beauty reminded him of the fantastical scenes he had often read about in the tales of ancient cultivators.
It felt like he had stepped into one of those stories himself.