Chapter One: The First Manifestation of Spiritual Roots, the Opening of Destiny

As the crude declaration fell upon Dong Changfeng’s ears, it was like a blade driven straight into his heart. Wang the Steward’s contemptuous gaze and sneering smile only deepened the humiliation, while the surrounding laughter rose like a tide, nearly swallowing him whole.

Dong Changfeng clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The pain sharpened his senses and made his grim situation all the more real.

Today was the day of the outer disciples’ selection at Azure Cloud Sect, and it was his only chance.

He came from a remote town, scorned as worthless since childhood, and had endured endless sneers and contempt. His worn clothes fluttered lightly in the breeze, and his thin frame looked small and out of place among the richly dressed youths around him.

Those boys laughed and chatted freely, their voices bright and confident, their haughty manner plain for all to see. It was as though every blessing in the world had nothing to do with him.

Dong Changfeng knew this was his one chance to change his fate. If he missed today, he might be forced to remain in that little town for the rest of his life, drifting through it in futility.

At last, he pushed through the crowd and arrived before the stone monument used to test spiritual aptitude. His heart hammered so violently it felt as if it might burst from his chest, and all he could hear was the frantic thudding of his own pulse.

At the testing station, Wang the Steward glanced at him from the corner of his eye, disgust written all over his face. To him, Dong Changfeng’s coarse hemp clothing was little short of a joke, a stark contrast to the silks and fine fabrics worn by the other disciples.

“What’s your name?” Wang the Steward asked impatiently, as though even looking at him was a waste of time. His voice was icy, and Dong Changfeng’s heart tightened.

“D-Dong Changfeng.” His voice trembled. Nervously, he twisted the edge of his clothes, his palms slick with sweat.

The boys nearby whispered among themselves, and now and then a few snickers drifted over, sharp as needles in his ears. His cheeks burned as though scorched by fire, and shame surged through him like a rising tide.

“Put your hand on it.” Wang the Steward pointed at the stone monument, his tone cold, as if dismissing a beggar.

Dong Changfeng drew a deep breath, the cold air filling his nose. Forcing himself to steady the turmoil within, he slowly extended his hand. He could feel every gaze fixed on his fingers, a pressure almost tangible in the air.

“Hold on,” Wang the Steward said suddenly, a teasing smile curling his lips. “My apologies, but it seems the quota for today is already full...”

Dong Changfeng froze. The hope in his eyes dimmed at once. Looking at Wang the Steward’s face, he felt a surge of bitterness. He had expected discrimination, but not such shamelessness.

He thought of the people back in his town who had suffered the same sort of bullying. If he backed down now, how could he face their hopes?

“Full? But... the notice said everyone who came today could be tested.” He stared at Wang the Steward, his voice edged with disbelief, his eyes full of stubborn defiance.

The people around him also cast sympathetic looks his way, knowing full well that Wang the Steward was deliberately making things difficult.

After all, a youth dressed as poorly as Dong Changfeng clearly had no backing. Offending him would cost nothing.

Wang the Steward gave a contemptuous laugh. “A notice is dead; people are alive. I say it’s full, so it’s full. What does a country bumpkin like you know? Get lost, and stop standing here where you’re in the way!”

He waved his hand as though shooing away a fly. The movement stirred a gust that brushed Dong Changfeng’s face, and even that breeze seemed to carry disdain.

Dong Changfeng ground his teeth. Fury surged from the depths of his heart, but he forced it down.

“Wang the Steward, the sect rules say all who come may be tested. You cannot strip me of my chance merely because of my background!” His voice was not loud, but it rang with iron certainty.

The crowd was stunned by his courage, and many looked at him with admiration. Dong Changfeng could feel the warmth in those gazes.

Wang the Steward’s face instantly turned livid. He had never expected this insignificant youth to dare rebuke him in public.

He glared hard at Dong Changfeng, cursing inwardly. Yet, with so many eyes upon him, he could not go too far. In the end, he could only nod reluctantly. “Hmph, lucky brat. Fine, put your hand on it—don’t waste my time!”

Dong Changfeng took another deep breath, pressing down the excitement in his chest, and slowly laid his hand upon the stone monument.

The moment his palm touched it, a faint light flickered across the stone.

The glow vanished in an instant, as fleeting as firefly light, almost impossible to notice.

Upon seeing this, Wang the Steward burst into laughter, his voice thick with mockery and scorn.

“Hahaha! A common spiritual root! This is hilarious! That has to be the worst kind of root there is. Kid, I advise you to go home and farm the land while you can. The path of cultivation is not one you’ll ever walk!”

He laughed until he bent over, tears nearly spilling from his eyes. The sound echoed in Dong Changfeng’s ears as though he were witnessing the funniest joke in the world.

The boys around him joined in as well, pointing and whispering among themselves.

“A common spiritual root? That’s all he’ll ever amount to.”

“What a waste of time. He’d be better off going home to hold a baby.”

“Poor kid. He’s destined to live an ordinary life forever.”

Those voices stabbed into Dong Changfeng’s ears like knives, bringing sharp little pangs of pain.

Within his heart, Dong Changfeng silently vowed that though a common spiritual root was despised by others, it was still a spiritual root. Just as ordinary people could change the world, so too could he uncover its hidden potential.

He clenched his fists again, his nails biting deep into the flesh, and searing pain shot through his palms. Yet he did not make a sound.

He drew a long breath, striving to calm the turbulence within.

He knew very well that a common spiritual root was indeed the worst in the world of cultivation, with far slower progress than other roots and far greater difficulty breaking through bottlenecks.

But he would not be discouraged. He believed that with effort, even a mortal could rise against the odds.

“Wang the Steward, a spiritual root may be important, but it does not decide everything. I will not give up. One day, I will prove to you that even a common spiritual root can accomplish great things!” His voice was not loud, yet it struck the ground like iron, filled with conviction and self-belief.

And just after he finished speaking, the stone monument flickered again.

This time the light was a little stronger than before. Though it was still the mark of a common spiritual root, the change cut Wang the Steward’s laughter short, and the surrounding mockery vanished in an instant.

Dong Changfeng seized the moment to cast him a cold look, his gaze like a blade of frost.

“Today you look down on me. One day, I will make you see me differently.”

Only then did he turn and leave.

Wang the Steward stood in stunned silence. He had not expected this poorly dressed youth to possess such terrifying tenacity.

He had assumed that a little humiliation would be enough to make Dong Changfeng back down.

But he had been wrong. In Dong Changfeng’s eyes burned a steadfast light, like an eternal flame, blazing without end.

“Hmph, you won’t shed a tear until you see the coffin. If you insist on walking this road, so be it. But let me remind you: the path of cultivation is full of hardship and danger. Are you prepared?” Wang the Steward snorted, his tone carrying a note of warning.

“I am prepared!” Dong Changfeng answered without the slightest hesitation.

Wang the Steward waved a hand, signaling that he could leave.

“Next!” He resumed his former arrogance, as though nothing had happened at all.

Dong Changfeng turned and walked away. He could feel the eyes of the crowd following him, their gazes full of mixed emotions—pity, ridicule, and even admiration.

Silently, he tightened his fists.

He would have to work harder, prove himself, and change his fate.

Then he remembered that cultivation required all sorts of pills and magical artifacts. He had heard that the town market sold such things, so he decided to try his luck there and make preparations for the outer disciples’ selection.