The room was quiet, save for the faint clinking of chess pieces on a marble board. The air was thick with tension, the kind that built over countless battles of wit and strategy. A dim light flickered from a lantern hanging overhead, casting long shadows against the stone walls. In the far corner, shrouded in darkness, a figure sat unmoving, his piercing gaze fixed on the scene before him.
At the chessboard, the man furrowed his brow, his eyes narrowing as he studied the game. His mind raced to find a path to victory, but as always, it was futile. Across from him sat his wife, her expression a mixture of amusement and superiority. She reached forward, her slender fingers gracefully moving her queen into position.
"Checkmate," she announced, her voice lilting with a mix of triumph and mockery.
The man leaned back in his chair, exhaling sharply. "You never let me win, do you?"
"Why would I? You learn more from losing," she said with a smirk, her eyes glinting mischievously. "And I enjoy watching you try so hard."
From the shadows, their master chuckled softly, a sound that was both soothing and unnerving. He said nothing, content to observe his disciples.
The woman suddenly leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though her words were clearly meant to carry. "Master, I've been thinking."
The man in the dark shifted slightly, his presence growing more tangible. "Oh? And what dangerous thoughts have you conjured this time?" he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
She smiled, but it was not the kind of smile that promised peace. Her expression turned sinister, her excitement barely contained. "A game. Something far grander than chess."
Her husband raised an eyebrow but remained silent, sensing the intensity in her gaze.
"A game where he and I enter the reincarnation cycle," she continued, her voice dripping with anticipation. "We'll be reborn in different worlds, stripped of our memories of this life. Seven lives, seven chances. No memories, just the faint pull of fate. We'll see if our love can bring us together again each time."
Her husband's eyes widened slightly, but she wasn't finished.
"Seven lives, Master," she repeated, her voice almost reverent now. "If we succeed, we'll return to you as your true disciples, having proven our bond is unbreakable. If we fail... Well, that would be a lesson too, wouldn't it?"
The man in the dark leaned forward, his face still obscured, but the faintest curve of a smile could be seen. "Fascinating," he said slowly. "Such a whimsical gamble. And what of the pain? The suffering you'll endure in these lives?"
"That's what makes it fun," she replied with a dark chuckle. "It's a test. Of love. Of fate. Of everything we claim to be."
Her husband let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. "You're relentless. But… I'll do it. If this is what you want, how can I say no?"
Her smirk deepened, but there was an odd tenderness in her eyes. "You'll thank me when we succeed."
The master's laughter filled the room, low and resonant. "Very well, my dear. I grant you this game. Seven lives. Seven chances. But don't think I'll interfere to help you. Whatever happens will be of your own making."
The couple exchanged a glance, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. Then, with a nod, they both turned back to their master.
"It's decided," she said, her voice ringing with finality. "Let the game begin."
The scene shifts to the grand Jin Clan courtyard, surrounded by an impressive array of buildings. Towering structures, adorned with intricate carvings and golden tiles, gleamed under the sunlight. Among them, the training hall stood proudly at the forefront, its expansive grounds bustling with activity. The library's towering spires loomed in the background, a beacon of knowledge and history.
The spacious training ground of the Jin Clan was alive with energy. A sea of people, from young disciples to seasoned elders, filled the area. Among the crowd sat dignitaries from the four major sects, their expressions calm but their eyes sharp, evaluating every move. Elders from other prominent sects were also present, intrigued by the Jin Clan's annual assessment—a tradition that determined the future of its younger generation.
The Jin Clan, though ranked seventh among the seven major clans under the Alchemist Association, was no weakling. Its rapid rise over the last 800 years had stunned many. Despite its relatively short history compared to the ancient clans, its strength rivaled even the third or fourth-ranked clans, earning both admiration and envy.
At the center of the open ground stood the 9th Elder, Jin Yuxiang, an elderly man with a long white beard and sharp, discerning eyes. He was tasked with assessing the spiritual roots of the clan's young talents. One by one, candidates stepped forward, each no older than sixteen. Jin Yuxiang placed a hand on their backs, injecting his spiritual energy to examine their spiritual roots.
The process was meticulous yet swift. Of the 107 candidates assessed so far, 15 had rank 6 spiritual roots, a testament to their potential. Most, however, ranged between rank 3 and rank 5, with a handful possessing rank 0 to rank 2 spiritual roots. Rank 0, a dead spiritual root, was considered a tragic fate—an end to any hopes of cultivation.
Now, only five candidates remained. Among them stood four young men and one strikingly beautiful girl. The girl, Jin Yuehua, stood beside her twin brother, who exuded an air of calm confidence. Jin Long, the son of the Jin Clan Leader, Jin Taiyuan, had been the center of attention since his childhood. Known as a prodigy, he had trained his body relentlessly since the age of eight and devoured every book in the clan's vast library. His reputation as the greatest talent in a century preceded him.
A few steps away, Jin Leihao, the grandson of the 4th Elder Jin Chengfeng, stood flanked by Jin Xiaoyu and Jin Ronghua. While Jin Xiaoyu and Jin Ronghua exchanged nervous glances, Jin Leihao wore an expression of unshakable arrogance.
"Next candidate," the 9th Elder called out, his voice echoing across the field.
Jin Ronghua hesitated, glancing at Jin Xiaoyu and Jin Leihao before stepping forward. His hands trembled slightly as he bowed to the elder. Jin Yuxiang placed his hand on the boy's back, closed his eyes, and sent a wave of spiritual energy through him. Moments later, the elder's voice rang out.
"Rank 7 spiritual root, lightning type."
Jin Ronghua froze for a moment before letting out a triumphant shout. His joy was palpable, his nerves replaced with excitement.
"Next!"
Jin Xiaoyu stepped forward, more confident now after Jin Ronghua's result. The 9th Elder repeated the process, and once again, the result was announced.
"Rank 7 spiritual root, lightning type."
Cheers erupted from the crowd, and Jin Xiaoyu smiled broadly, pride radiating from his face.
Before the elder could call for the next candidate, Jin Leihao strode forward, his head held high, his movements dripping with arrogance. The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.
"Such confidence," one guest remarked.
The elder assessed Jin Leihao, and when the result came, the reason for his self-assurance became clear.
"Rank 8 spiritual root, lightning type."
Gasps filled the air as the elders and guests turned to the 4th Elder with smiles and words of praise.
"Jin Chengfeng, your grandson is a rare talent indeed."
"With such a spiritual root, he's bound to make waves in the future!"
The 4th Elder nodded humbly, though the faint smile on his face betrayed his pride.
Now, all eyes turned to the final two candidates: Jin Long and Jin Yuehua. The crowd fell silent, the anticipation palpable. As the only children of Jin Taiyuan, their assessment would determine not just their futures but also the future standing of the Jin Clan.
"Jin Long," the 9th Elder called out.
Jin Long glanced at Jin Yuehua, who gave him an encouraging nod. Stepping forward, he held himself with the poise of someone used to the weight of expectations. His golden-black eyes shone with calm determination, his every step commanding attention.
The 9th Elder placed a hand on his back, closing his eyes to begin the assessment. Moments passed. Then, more moments. The elder's brows furrowed, and his face began to pale. He tried again, his hand trembling slightly as he pushed more spiritual energy into Jin Long.
Nothing.
Finally, Jin Yuxiang removed his hand, his expression grim. The silence in the crowd grew heavy as they waited for him to speak.
"I… I cannot sense any spiritual root," the elder announced, his voice shaking slightly.