— The Emperor’s Imperial Record, Entry No. 5 —

  "No chance of maturity."

  The elder's voice was cold, indifferent, like he was announcing the weather. He had done this a thousand times before, and I could tell he had cared just as little then as he did now. My hands clenched at my sides. Anger? Despair? I couldn't tell the difference. Either way, this was it—the judgment that slammed shut every door I had ever dreamed of opening.

  The results were final. I had even less talent than most people. I couldn’t cultivate at all. Only twenty individuals had actually been able to force their spirit conduits to mature during the testing. In the realm of cultivation, this marked them as individuals of minimal talent.

  But they didn’t care. For them, this was a life-changing event. For me, it meant the end. With my deformed spirit conduit, my body was already doing all it could just to keep me breathing. It’d be easier to see a carp leap over the dragon’s gate than for me to cultivate in any meaningful way.

  —-

  But as Khan stared at the sect gates, defeated, another story was unravelling, one that might shape Khan’s fate more than he would realise…

  Among the Sky Grade candidates, Huo Feng stood out—not just as one of the only commoners but as a constant irritant to the nobles, his betters.

  How dare a peasant have better talent than they did?

  Furthermore, it was worse- that look was in his eyes. That look that told them he saw them as nothing special, just as they had once seen him. It stung their pride, a flaw in an otherwise perfect oil painting, made even more unbearable by the person delivering it.

  Among them, one noble in particular simmered with resentment. His name was Hung Lee.

  Hung Lee hated Huo Feng all the more. His hatred ran deep. Every glance he shot in the peasant's direction was laced with contemptuous fury.

  Born into one of the most prominent families in the Silverscale district—far from the human filth of the lower districts—Hung Lee could barely stand to share the same air with a peasant like Huo Feng, let alone the same cultivation talent.

  To make matters worse, Hung Lee’s cousin was already an esteemed cultivator in the sect. If Huo Feng ended up under his cousin’s wing, things could go very wrong for him. It wouldn’t just cost him his status—not becoming patriarch of the family would be the least of his problems.

  He’d be grateful if his head were still attached every day he woke up from sleep. If that boy with talent met his cousin, everything he had built could crumble. He glanced at Huo Feng again with barely concealed anger, gritting his teeth.

  ‘Should I rope him in? No, roping him in is out of the question!' He thought. ‘A dweller of the Mudfoot district is not fit to share my plate.’

  Hung Lee was already gathering a faction, building influence. He had waited, letting the trials pass, ensuring he aligned himself only with those who mattered. It disgusted him to have to invest his precious time in lesser nobles with mediocre talent. But this-this insult of a peasant standing at his level was not something he could ignore.

  ‘At least I waited till the tests were over, before talking to any of the other nobles.’ He couldn’t imagine having to waste his precious time investing in relationships with his lessers.

  The elder, accompanied by the outer sect disciples, cleared his throat again to get attention from those surrounding the sect grounds.

  "Should you have been able to forcefully mature your spirit conduit, and you manifest 'root' or lower as your spiritual conduit grade, proceed to the right. You are destined to forever lay at the foot of cultivator society

  "Conversely, if your spiritual conduit talent is rated at Root Grade (premium) or higher, and you were able to forcefully mature your spirit conduit, you will be acknowledged as a Spirit cultivator. Please shift to the left."

  "If your talent is equal in both, you may choose your path. Everyone else may leave."

  Candidates hurriedly positioned themselves within the prescribed groups.

  The elder, seeing that his orders had been followed, nodded approvingly. “The two disciples here,” he pointed to the one on each side, “will be escorting you towards the parts of the sect you now belong to. You shall get some time to say farewell to your families.” The frigid look on his face somehow got colder, “Be here before sundown.”

  He clapped his hands once, dismissing us.

  Slowly, I made my way toward the edge of the sect grounds. Around me, laughter rang out as families embraced and candidates bragged about their results. I might as well have been a shadow.

  My fists clenched as a boy nearby beamed about his ‘good’ rating. I didn’t need to hear it; the word ‘failure’ already echoed loud enough in my head.”

  The walk back felt endless. The further I got, the deeper the word drove into me: failure.

  When a mother nearby rushed to hug her son, I averted my gaze, the sting in my chest too sharp to bear. By the time Huo Qianlei greeted me with his jovial warmth, I couldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t say the words, but the pity in his voice cut me deeply.

  “You're welcome to stay with me for as long as needed, Khan, but in return, you must continue with Huo Feng’s chores."

  Thank you, Uncle Huo Qianlei,” I muttered, trying to muster sincerity.

  Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

  “No need to thank me, kid,” he said, chuckling softly. “Let’s just focus on celebrating Huo Feng’s success, alright?”

  I wanted to wallow more, to keep myself stuck in this moment, but my sadness turned into anger, cold and hot at the same time.

  ‘Why? Why me? Was I not good enough?’

  No.

  It didn’t matter. If I were thirsty and was blocked from a lake then I would tap water from the trees, and if there were none, I would die of thirst as I searched for some.

  Who were these people? Could they hold my destiny in their hands? Was I supposed to keep my future at the mercy of their words?

  This was my life. My dream. My promise.

  I’d make sure to fulfil it.

  I looked out again at the elder, who had already turned back.

  He swiftly disappeared through the sect gates. Suddenly, the place erupted in chatter. Huo Feng, with nothing else to do, quickly located his father and I before walking towards us.

  When he was only a few steps in, Hung Lee and his new posse of three nobles stopped him. An outer sect disciple looked on, pretending to see nothing.

  The leader, Hung Lee, stepped forward, “Congratulations,” but there was no smile on his face.

  “A commoner from the Mudfoot district having a sky grade spirit conduit, impressive,” he placed a hand on Huo Feng’s shoulder, one of his lackeys stepped forward, his grin too eager, like a dog begging for a treat. Desperate to impress.

  The other hesitated before looking at the sect disciple, who continued to do nothing, then closed in as well. “You’d do well to remember, “ he spat out the next phrase, “peasant...talent doesn’t make you untouchable. Sect members have,” he inhaled, “accidents all the time.”

  Huo Feng, rage already painting his face red, looked to the outer sect disciple, who continued acting like nothing was happening; he could see what was going on now.

  His fists itched to swing, but he forced himself to think properly. The leader of this band’s almost cocky indifference making it clear, if the outer disciple was already on his side, escalating this would just make it worse.

  But still, he thought, the time he was a kid was the last he would allow himself to be stepped on.

  So he chose to smack the noble’s hands off. Getting into a fighting stance, “I’m sure I can take care of myself.”

  Hung Lee smiled, amused. It was much more fun when they fought back. “Why so defensive, friend? I was only giving you some advice.” He nodded towards his men, “We’ll be out of your hair, we just wanted to say hello.”

  After the exchange, they sauntered off.

  Huo Feng finally let his fear crack through, ‘Enemies so early…’ They even had an outer sect disciple on their side!

  He made sure to maintain the stance a while, as he watched their backs fade away, then walked towards his father, Khan by his side, they had been obstructed by the throng of people moving around, saying their farewells and heading home.

  He sped up towards them, while Huo Qianlei, brimming with excitement, rushed to his son, enveloping him in a heartfelt embrace, his heart filled with pride. Huo Feng returned his father’s big hug, a huge grin on his face.

  With a lighter countenance, Huo Feng announced, "I've done it, Dad. After four years of being an underdeveloped mortal, I've finally done it."

  Observing the unspoken connection between the father and son, I took a few steps back, I did not want to intrude on their already generous hospitality.

  But as I watched, I noticed that smile on Huo Feng’s face was tinged with a cold, resolute determination, and Huo Qianlei understood it all too well.

  What could the father say? Stop? Abandon his thoughts of vengeance? He couldn’t do it… he wanted it too. As much as he might have yearned to exact revenge himself, he was content with his son bearing the mantle.

  Huo Qianlei noticed how awkward it had gotten with me just standing there by the side, pretending to look off into the distance. "Alright, boys, let's not get too caught up in the moment," Huo Qianlei proposed. "We have a soon-to-be cultivator in our midst."

  "I'm not a cultivator yet, father." The objection was raised with very little actual resistance and a slight grin.

  "In my eyes, you're every bit a cultivator, son. Let's gather your sisters. We'll invite Yao Po and Uncle Jary. I’ll make sure it’s a big celebration," he said gently.

  Huo Qianlei was already listing names of friends to invite, his excitement filling the space around them. I forced a smile and nodded where I thought I should, but I couldn’t shake the weight in my chest.

  I had that mark. The long, bold line on my right forearm reminded me that I still had to drink.

  They trudged back to Huo Qianlei’s home, each step heavier than the last for Khan, but light and hopeful for the father-son duo.

  The house filled quickly with laughter and the smell of roasted meat. Yao Po handed out mugs of steaming tea, and Huo Feng’s sisters danced circles around him, giggling at his awkward attempts to dodge their excitement.

  I lingered near the fire, my back to the warmth, watching the joy from a distance. I wanted to believe my earlier thoughts—that there were other ways to make my mark.

  But all I could think of was the sect’s rejection, the cold indifference in the elder’s voice, and the suffocating feeling of doors closing all around me.

  A few hours later, I accompanied Huo Feng and his family to the sect for his initiation. Yao Po had already bade farewell to the girls earlier. After seeing Huo Feng off to the sect, we returned to Huo Qianlei's home.

  And as everyone slept, I sat by the fire, stoking the flames, and lost in contemplation. Since I was denied entry into the sect, I faced limited options, and whatever choice I made, I still had to become, if not a cultivator, then something very close. I did not want to give up so easily.

  With a piece of wood, I etched my thoughts into the ashes illuminated by the faint glow of the half-moon through the window behind me.

  The sect’s doors were closed to me, but there had to be another way. From what I could see of the place so far, I had a few options open to me; maybe I’d mine spirit stones, clawing my way up for scraps of knowledge. Or I’d find work as a guard,like Huo Feng, hoping some passing cultivator would notice me. Whatever it took, I’d find a path forward. One way or another, I’d get what I wanted—even if it killed me.

  I sighed, ‘If I just got a manual—any manual—it could change something. Even if it didn’t work well with my spirit conduit, I could just brute force it. Maybe. Somehow.’

  This was exhausting.

  I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life fetching water or patching roofs or any other menial job, there were other paths–-there had to be, and I would make one mine even without any help.

  I didn’t know how I would do it.

  But even if I had to steal precious herbs from the dens of spirit beasts, or grovel for scraps at the feet of drunken outer sect disciples, I didn’t care if I’d have to risk my life hunting beasts even sane cultivators wouldn’t touch.

  I’d do it.

  I wasn't going to let this rejection define me, especially not with the mark etched into my arm like a curse.

  I scratched at it, trying to see if I could take it off, but it didn’t even smudge, glaring in the moonlight, as if trying to mock me.

  ‘Fine, ’ I thought. If The Skies want me to fail, I would gladly go against them.

  If the sect wouldn’t give me a path, I’d carve my own.

  Promises made had to be kept.