The day had finally arrived. I woke before Hoffnung, my mind too restless to stay in bed. I had to busy myself, so I started preparing for the entrance tests . Even Henley and the girls were out of bed early, fully aware of the day's significance.
As I moved about, I could see how others were also up and about, preparing. Mothers shouting at their kids to put their clothes on, as he scurried to dodge her slippers.
We completed our daily chores with remarkable swiftness; an efficiency born of purpose, this was not going to be like other ordinary days, and none of us wanted to miss anything.
The test was set to be after the first rooster's call, but candidates were expected to assemble earlier. Once everyone was up, and had finished our chores, we gathered around the comforting warmth of the fireplace. The girls sang their lullabies, through the muffled sounds of quickly eaten breakfast, a touching effort to calm Hoffnung, who was practically bouncing off the ground with nerves.
Neither I nor Hoffnung wanted to stay around, any longer than we had to, with my constant standing around and brooding, and Hoffnung's nerves, Henley decided that it'd be best if we just left earlier than usual, but first, we had to leave Isabella and Charlotte with Healer Kim, regardless whether they were children, Henley did not want to risk having them in areas with people he did not know.
They quickly finished their food, their breaths steaming into the cold weather, like fleeting spirits in the chill morning air. The walk to Healer Kim, was uneventful, apart from the occasional family in their best clothing passing by. It didn't take long to land them off with the healer, who seemed happy to see them, in her lonely apothecary.
As soon as we were out of sight of the girls, we set off quickly, not wanting to waste a moment more. The closer we got to the sect grounds, the more I noticed the grandness of it. My first viewing of it from afar did not do it justice.
More and more people clustered about as we got closer, a sea of bodies pressing in tighter from all sides. Hoffnung and I wove our way through, urgency pushing us forward.
Upon our arrival at the sect entrance proper, a few moments after sunrise, we were met with the sight of a vast and hopeful throng of what I thought to be a thousand candidates excluding their accompanying families, each face a portrait of ambition. This was a moment that could alter not only their lives, but the futures of their descendants and families.
As time ticked away, more and more families joined the swelling crowd. Well before the official starting time, well over a thousand aspiring cultivators had congregated at the entrance.
Nobles and peasants alike, straightened out the edges of their clothes, dusted of their shoes, and fixed their hair. A few ladies making sure to don make up just in case.
The atmosphere was electric, humming with anticipation as we stood closely packed together, chock full. With no cultivators in sight yet, and only a couple of formidable guards present, the opportunity remained to grab their attention if you were especially striking or impressive from the start.
This particular sect testing hall was the closest one to our village, and entry into the sect promised a future of power, wealth, and prestige—dreams shared by everyone here.
When everyone had started thinking that maybe they had come too early, three figures emerged, draped in robes of pale silver and midnight blue, the fabric of the elder especially, shimmering like moonlight rippling on still water.
Embroidery of crescent moons and constellations adorned his robes, while the disciples' attire bore simpler crescent moons."
To ordinary people they were gods walking among men. To those attuned to the flow of energy, the real experts, they were merely powerful mortals.
Mh huh mhm*
The elder, his grey hair tied neatly, exuded boredom, his gaze sharp yet uninterested. When he spoke, his voice carried through the gathering like a blade slicing through silk.
"Form three lines."
It was not a request. It was a decree.
A thousand hopefuls moved at once, instinctively obeying. Within moments, the crowd had sorted itself into three lines, ordered by height.
Hoffnung and I found ourselves in the third.
A jade podium shimmered with a floating cube, that seemed to shift and twist when glanced at directly, with the cube resonating with a faint hum. The elder took center stage behind the podium, flanked by the two outer sect disciples, who remained still and striking as statues. "One by one, you will approach me and this podium," he commanded, his eyes peering over the assembled candidates.
The grey-haired man went on, "Place your dominant hand on the cube and follow my instructions. Understood?" The whole assembly responded together, "Yes, sir!" Even the thousands of family members standing to the side joined in, though they hastily silenced their conversations when the three figures cast disapproving glares in their direction.
"The elder gripped the cube, spinning it into a rapid whirl as thick white gas billowed out." One of the disciples to the left called upon a young boy from the first line to approach the podium and instructed him to place his dominant hand on the cube. The boy complied.
A minute passed.
"Undeveloped," the disciple declared. "Little chance for maturity."
The boy's face fell, his shoulders slumping as he turned back toward his family.
One by one, candidates stepped forward. Some met the same disappointment. Others showed promise.
A girl, around 15 years of age, with blonde, curly hair and captivating green eyes, followed the same procedure. In a matter of seconds, the fog from the cube turned black with multiple white spots. The disciple on the right announced, "Star grade. Premium." The grey-haired cultivator's eyes widened in surprise, and he ordered the disciple on the left to escort the girl inside immediately.
Without a word, the disciple promptly seized the girl and whisked her away into the sect's entrance hall, disappearing in a matter of seconds. The elder returned to his composed posture, but then he instructed the disciple on his right, Bareem, to 'use more energy.
"Star-grade candidates would receive the full attention of the elder himself. The sect made sure to guide them carefully, they might even become an Inner elder's disciple. Whispers rippled through the crowd: Star-grade candidates were almost guaranteed greatness, given the finest resources and priority treatment. For the rest, the message was clear—be born extraordinary, or fight against impossible odds."
The testing continued. One by one, dreams were made or broken.
It was finally the turn of those in the third row, where Khan stood. He approached the podium, placed his hand on the cube, and followed the elder's instructions.
Bareem barely glanced at the result before speaking.
"Root grade. Subpar. Deformed. You've failed. Next."
Failed.
The word struck Khan like a blow to his chest, his stomach turned, and the loss of face bit through his heart. His fingers twitched, spasming as he stepped back from the podium, feeling the piercing weight of hundreds upon hundreds of eyes on him. Shame and disbelief burned hot, clawing at his throat, affecting even deeper, reaching to his soul, but he swallowed it down. He couldn't let them see him like this.
He forced his face into an impassive mask, the cultivators, not even deigning to give him a second glance. He didn't want anyone to see the disapointment burning inside of him. Thoughts of his father and his promises condemning his mind to despair.
Was he already falling short, before he'd even begun?
Upon seeing Khan's result, Henley met his eyes with understanding and explained, "I understand, kid. The same thing happened to me when I was younger, but my result was even worse – I received the undeveloped grade and couldn't cultivate at all. Let's wait for Hoffnung to finish and then join us."
As the testing went on, Hoffnung finally had his turn. Out of the thousand applicants, only a hundred were able to cultivate, heightening the tension.
As Hoffnung approached the podium, the weight of his family's hopes boring down on him. He clenched his fists and bit his lips, fighting to steady his breath.
Hoffnung trembled, as he approached the podium, fearing another 'undeveloped' mark
This was his moment, Hoffnung's entire body trembled as he approached the podium. He didn't know if he could handle another 'undeveloped' evaluation. Would he even get that chance? The faces of his sisters-his mother- flashing before his eyes, their laughter, their tears, and the bruises that once marred his mother's arms- they all surged through his mind, lighting a flame in his chest.
He remembered how pathetic he was, fighting back the tears, stifling sobs in silence, determined not to reveal his vulnerability to his father. This was his singular opportunity, and he was determined to seize it.
In a seemingly disinterested tone, the elder instructed, "Place your hand over the cube." Hoffnung acted with the utmost urgency, and the fog, as it had done for countless others, began to twirl around his hand, gradually taking on a light blue hue with flashes of white. The elder's raised eyebrows signaled his surprise, "Oh? Sky grade. Premium."
Hoffnung inhaled sharply.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't powerless.
Hoffnung beamed with pride, turning to glance at his father with joy in his eyes. His heart surging with an almost painful pride and sense of achievement. One day, starting from this one, he would be strong. Strong enough to hold his head high, strong enough to hold the severed heads of the ones who had wronged his family.
Henley smiled and nodded, acknowledging his son's remarkable success. Hoffnung had been tested for his cultivation capability four times prior, and each time, he had been marked as 'undeveloped, with a chance to mature.' This triumph marked a pivotal moment in his life.
Hoffnung promptly joined the ranks of the other hundred cultivators standing to the right of the elder, a few steps behind the disciple on the right. After further hours of testing, the evaluations were complete, and only 116 candidates exhibited the ability to cultivate.
Khan, looked at Hoffnung's back as he walked away, he was glad that he got his chance, but it still hurt him. He couldn't be destined for a peasants life... right?
This group included 85 individuals with Sky grade (Subpar) ethereal bridges, 25 with Root grade (Premium) bridges, and 7 with sky-grade (Premium) ethereal bridges. Only one person had been found with a Star grade bridge, which was the girl who had been escorted away earlier.
The elder, with a wave of his hand, made the podium disappear and addressed the candidates in his authoritative voice, "There are two paths to cultivation: spiritual cultivation through your 'Spirit Conduit' and body cultivation through your physique."
He explained that the next test would be a focus on physique. The most recognized indicator of an individual's body cultivation talent was their "body anchor grade," which assessed the amount of force their bodies could generate relative to their mass. This factor was categorized into five grades: Mono, Modest, Capable, Mighty, and Cosmic.
With this additional challenge, the candidates were presented with a new opportunity. Excelling in body cultivation could offer a different path towards realizing their aspirations. It was an opportunity to reach for the sun, to soar like eagles with outstretched wings.
The elder continued, "The test is simple. You will all be placed in our force generation array. Last as long as you can inside the chalk circle, and we will give each of you a red coin. Rub it when you are unable to endure any longer."
The candidates were measured for their mass, and the disciples recorded their names and aura signatures. Subsequently, every candidate, regardless of their ether bridge classification, were led into a square arrangement marked with peculiar symbols and drawings on the ground, positioned at the square's edges. Inside, chalk circles were drawn to measure the force output.
As the candidates took their places within these chalk circles, the ground began to radiate a bright blue light. In an instant, the gravitational force within those circles increased tenfold. In less than a minute, nearly 500 candidates reached their limits, urgently rubbing their red coins to signify their inability to continue.
The outer sect disciples, with the one who had taken the girl already having come back, quickly went around taking the failures out of the formation.
The force of gravity returned to normal within those circles. Another 300 candidates yielded after five minutes, and 200 more after twenty minutes. An hour later, the remaining candidates found themselves unable to endure any longer, marking the end of the test.
The final stage encompassed physical assessments, such as running and striking objects to record the force of their punches. These evaluations aimed to identify candidates who, despite having average or subpar ethereal bridge talents, might possess a greater aptitude for body cultivation.
Those who failed were marked with a single black line across their forearm—a symbol of rejection that would not fade for weeks. It branded them as unworthy, a badge of disgrace that would follow them back to their villages. Mothers wept silently, fathers averted their eyes, and the failed candidates shuffled out of the grounds, heads bowed low, their dreams crumbling beneath the weight of shame."
As the branded candidates shuffled away in disgrace, Khan tightened his fists. His failure today wasn't the end—it was just the beginning. If he couldn't walk his chosen path, he would carve out his own."