"It's been 3 days already..." Looking at the thatched ceiling, but with gratitude from someone who saved him even without offering anything.
For three days I've managed to drag his broken body to this village forgotten by God. Three days watching everything around being set up for the "great selection".
Qin Yami appeared at the corner of the opening, considered the window of Grandma Zhen's hut, a shadow that nobody else noticed while they passed freely in the village. Exactly as he wanted at this moment. Invisible, irrelevant, forgettable.
"At least some things don't change," he thought, slightly bitter, remembering the gray working days of his previous life. There he was just another employee lost in the crowd. He could try but didn't evolve. Here, just another injured person being treated out of charity.
But something was... different in his view. Even not being strong, his thoughts were always quite intelligent, and in this world of war and power, he always stimulated his mind since he woke up as Qin, his survival beyond unlucky luck, is due to being more analytical than cultivators who only care about pride, power and more bizarre situations.
In the first days after waking up in this world, everything was panic, despair, constant fear dreading death and suffering. Every shadow could be a beast, every sound could be his death. He cried at night, when he discovered that nobody was coming to help him. He cried for the lost life, for the miserable apartment that now seemed like a palace, for the job he hated but which at least was safe. He might be complaining, but obviously his situation was worse now.
He also knew that only protagonists survived cultivators two or three realms above, and managed to win all situations. In his own view about himself, he was screwed. What would he do in front of a simple Qi Refinement cultivator? Fart? Probably yes. "Shit"
He observed a brown-haired mother, rubbing her son's face who seemed to be 8 years old with such force that the skin turned red, tears falling on the beaten and dry dirt floor.
"Why do I seem to find this normal"... A clinical observation. Cold for someone who never lived this way, because he acted as if it were normal. Since he woke up, his ideas travel about his strange way of acting.
The "Mother knows it won't lead to anything," was his first thought. It didn't come with pity. Nor with anger. Just with certainty.
This bothered him a lot. It should bother him, at least. On Earth, he might be a loser without an important position, but he was still human, and by the way, one of the good ones. He still felt basic empathy when someone suffered. He still cared, even if it was just a little and exactly because it was little that his ideas traveled about the potential reason.
"Would it be trauma?" he murmured to himself, trying to find a rational explanation for himself. "Obviously it's trauma. I woke up in the body of a weak idiot. Almost died three times in one week. It's normal to get a bit... anesthetized."
But deep down, he knew it wasn't just that. There was something more. Something related to the tattoo on his arm, with the Blade of Will that cut not just physical pain, but... other things. Something which arose, in one of his traveling but coherent ideas. Impossible for such a divine technique to exist without costs. especially a person in the state he was in. Weak to the extreme of a mortal.
"Obviously there's a price..." thoughtful, while looking at the yellowish sky and the people again. He sighed deeply.
The movement in the village was frantic these last days, especially today. Entire families running from one side to the other, cleaning their children, fixing torn clothes, whispering prayers to gods who probably gave a shit about them.
...
Xiao Fan passed by the hut that morning, carrying a water bucket. His face was swollen - courtesy of another beating session from Bao and his friends. But there was something different in his eyes. A desperate determination, almost manic.
"He's going to try even knowing he'll get beaten," Qin commented. "The idiot really believes he's going to succeed." WAIT!
A thought arose.
"It's not possible... Could he have that disorder I saw on Earth? What was the name again... Delusional Disorder, grandiose type."
"There was a case in the newspaper — a crazy guy thought he was a secret heir of NASA and that he was going to lead a colony on Mars. He even had a flight plan drawn with crayon. Just like this one: gets beaten every day, but thinks he's going to reach the Supreme Dao carrying water buckets."
"Definitely, it's a disease."
The observation came out automatically, without real malice in his stupid judgment. It was like commenting about the weather. And that's more disturbing than it should be.
Lin Mei appeared right behind, holding the hem of her brother's worn tunic. Her big eyes were red - she had been crying. Probably trying to convince Xiao Fan to give up, knowing he would only be humiliated once more.
Qin studied the girl with an attention he couldn't explain. Eleven years old, maybe twelve. Too thin, disheveled honey-brown hair, clothes that were basically sewn rags. But there was something... different. It wasn't obvious. It was more subtle. The way she moves, gracefully for a girl without etiquette. Naturally. And behind that dirt, he knew there was a child who in the future would catch the attention of many second-rate villains or even, Supreme Villains.
"Interesting to see all this happening for real." The word came out.
Grandma Zhen entered the hut at that moment, carrying herbs that smelled like rotten swamp. With an appearance of dry grass.
"The emissaries from the Purple Blue Sect arrive this afternoon," she said, without looking at him while quickly mixing all ingredients for her age. "The whole village will gather at the central square."
"Right." He nodded.
"You should also show up."
Qin Yami frowned. "Why? I'm not from the village. And I'm no longer a child to be tested." Although he was only 19 years old. Adulthood in this world according to his memories, started early, from 16 years old it was common for young people to already be married to each other. Of course, the civilians.
"Because if you stay hidden here, it will seem like you're disrespecting the Immortals. And injured men who hide from cultivators usually have interesting reasons for it."
She was right. Even being a nobody to these cultivators who he was sure were weak in the hierarchy -, cultivators were paranoid by nature. Any strange behavior could awaken unnecessary curiosity.
"It won't be a problem," he said, and we observe that he really believed it. Not out of optimism, but out of cold certainty. "I'm a nobody for anyone to care about."
Grandma Zhen studied him with those small and penetrating eyes. Already experienced.
"You changed" She finally said something she'd been thinking these days. Coming from outside full of wounds impossible to survive humanly, Grandma Zhen always kept an eye on the outsider. His story was strange, but she wouldn't deny a dying patient, her conviction wouldn't allow it.
He's not dangerous. Was her final conclusion.
"What do you mean?"
"When you arrived here, you trembled just from hearing footsteps coming to the entrance. Now..." She shook her head. "Now you talk about cultivators like someone talking about lost weather."
The words should have caused some impact. Some discomfort. But Qin Yami just agreed, as if she had commented that the sky was cloudy and it was going to rain. Obviously if a cloud darkens, it's going to rain.
"It's a matter of survival," he responded automatically.
"Maybe. But what good is living if you have no purpose for your life?"
Qin Yami stopped for a second. Just a second. But it was enough for the memory to invade — as it always did, without prior warning.
The person who took care of him most in the orphanage didn't have spiritual power, magic sword or divine lineage. She had calloused hands, a crooked spine and a slipper always ready to fly if he misbehaved. But she also had a look that saw beyond the dirt on his feet, beyond juvenile anger, beyond the layers of silence he used as a shield.
Isaura. Dona Isa. The name still came to mind with that tone between anger and longing. The only person who made him feel... human.
When small, he dreamed of silly things — family, friends, birthday with bought cake and not donated. But the world never laughed with him. Only at him. And it was she who raised him, held back tears countless times to raise him and spoke as if speaking to a son she never had:
"Surviving is just the first step, my boy. Even cockroaches survive a nuclear bomb. But living... living requires choice."
Qin Yami remembered these words whenever someone tried to say he had no purpose. Not because he believed in them. But because... sometimes, he wanted to believe.
At the time, he had laughed. She had hit him with a wooden spoon.
Now, the spoon was far away. And her voice still hurt more than the cuts. How long had he missed her? Maybe even more in this strange place, as if he were a puppy missing his mother.
She left the hut, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Qin Yami looked at the arm where the tattoo of the moon and blade rested under the skin. The tribal design seemed to pulse slightly, like a silver heart. Gratitude to whatever it is, he knows it's something beyond him at this moment, all that's up to him, is to survive to discover more.
The Blade of Will had cut his pain. Had cut his exhaustion. There was a panic that almost killed him in the cave.
"What else did you cut without me noticing?" he whispered to the tattoo with conflicted thoughts.
"uph..." He sighed deeply.
Outside, the sound of drums began to echo. It wasn't music - it was an announcement. The emissaries from the Purple sect were arriving.
Qin Yami got up supporting his injured leg on the ground, testing the weight on the wounded leg. The pain was still there, but distant, like an echo that echoes again until its sound completely lowers. Functional.
He walked to the entrance of the hut and looked at the village transforming even more than the other two days. Entire families running to the central square, children being pushed forward, parents whispering desperate last instructions.
And in the middle of all this, Xiao Fan. Walking with Lin Mei by his side, shoulders straight despite the bruises, chin raised despite the constant humiliation. The perfect protagonist going to his first great trial.
Qin Yami apologized alone so bad karma wouldn't fall on him. "haha".
It wasn't a smile of amusement, nor of anticipation. It was the smile of someone who is about to watch a movie they've already seen and knows exactly how it will end.
"Showtime," he murmured, and began walking toward the center of the village.
Behind him, without him noticing, the tattoo on his arm glowed once before returning to normal.
The central square of the village was nothing more than a piece of beaten earth surrounded by mud and straw huts. But that day, it seemed like an amphitheater where children's destinies would be decided with the same casualness of someone choosing fruits at the market.
Qin Yami positioned himself at the back of the crowd, leaning against a cracked clay wall. From there, he had a clear view of everything without drawing attention. Invisible.
The tension in the air was almost palpable, and clearly visible. Parents held their children by the shoulders, whispering last words of encouragement that sounded more like farewells. Children looked around with wide eyes, some crying softly, others trying to seem brave...
'Generally in generic immortal cultivation stories, mortals were always excluded, seeing reality firsthand. "I don't know how to feel. I should be very sad, but at the same time I'm not."
"I KNOW THE REASON. I'm not a fool!" His view on all this was complex, even he didn't know what he was feeling anymore.
"Like cattle being prepared for slaughter," was the first thought that came to Qin Yami's mind. The comparison was brutal, but... accurate. He should feel pity, right? Revolt? Something?
But he only felt analytical curiosity. As if he were a researcher observing a social experiment.
The sound of hooves echoed through the narrow streets of the village. Heavy. Rhythmic. The sound of horses that never knew hunger or thirst, mounted by people who never had to choose between eating or heating the house.
The crowd fell silent instantly. Even the babies stopped crying, as if the very air had become denser.
"Wow" Observing everything.
They appeared at the entrance of the square like a vision from another world. Three figures mounted on horses that shone with an almost metallic skin, muscles too defined to be natural. The animals stepped on the ground as if the earth should feel honored to touch them.
The first "Rider" dismounted with a gracefulness that defied gravity. Man in his forties, black hair tied in a high bun, wearing blue robes with golden embroidery that probably cost more than the entire village together. His face was angular, sculpted, with eyes that seemed to see through people instead of just looking at them.
"I am Elder Mo Zhen, from the Purple Blue Sect," his voice echoed through the square without him seeming to make any effort. "We are here for the Annual Selection."
Qin Yami studied the man. It wasn't just the physical appearance that differentiated him from common mortals - it was the way he existed in space. As if reality bent slightly around him. The air around him vibrated with an energy that made the hair on Qin's arms stand up.
"Qi Refinement, at least," he analyzed mentally. "Maybe Meridian Opening. For this shitty village, he might as well be a god." Naturally for a mortal, feeling dangerous was obvious.
The second cultivator descended from the horse - a woman in her thirties, shorter than Elder Mo, but radiating a cold authority that made the air heavier. Her eyes were like a warning: DON'T LOOK AT ME!
She swept the crowd like someone counting cattle heads.
"I am Disciple Liu Yanran," she announced, her voice cutting. "I will be responsible for the initial tests."
The third cultivator was younger, maybe in his early twenties. Handsome in a way that seemed artificial to mortals. Qin rolled his eyes. As if he had been sculpted to be perfect. He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. There was something... oily in the way he looked at the children. Especially the girls.
"And I am Disciple Mo Wuba" he said, his voice too silky. "I will be helping with the... special evaluations."
Qin Yami felt something twist in his stomach seeing how Mo Wuba looked at Lin Mei and other girls, children. It wasn't disgust - it was recognition. He knew exactly what kind of "special evaluations" a young and powerful cultivator might want to do with a talented and vulnerable girl.
"Classic," he thought with a coldness that surprised him. "The perverted young master. Everyone knows this guy will appear in the story."
The village chief stepped forward, bowing so low he almost kissed the ground.
"Honored immortals! Our humble village feels blessed by your presence! We have prepared our most promising children for—"
"Enough," Elder Mo cut off with a casual gesture of his hand. "We don't have time for ceremonies. Bring the children."
The casual brutality of the interruption made the village chief swallow the rest of his words as if they were ground glass. He nodded nervously, and families began pushing their children forward one by one with evident anxiety.
Qin Yami observed the procession of small trembling bodies approaching the cultivators. Xiao Fan was in the middle of the group, Lin Mei clinging to his arm. The boy tried to seem brave, but Qin could see the tremor in his legs.
"Poor stupid protagonist," was his automatic thought. "Doesn't even know the horror show that's about to begin."
But the observation came without real pity. It was like commenting that it was going to rain - a neutral statement about something inevitable.
Disciple Liu Yanran raised her hand, and a stone the size of a human head appeared floating above her palm. The stone was black as obsidian, but pulsed with veins of blue-silver light that ran across its surface like imprisoned lightning.
"Spiritual Test Stone," she announced coldly. "Each child will touch it. If there's any talent, the stone will react. Simple as that."
Qin Yami almost laughed. Simple as that. As if reducing a lifetime's potential to a few seconds of contact with a magic rock was the most natural thing in the world.
"And if the stone doesn't react?" asked a mother brave or stupid enough to speak.
Wei Long smiled, that oily smile widening.
"Then you continue being... exactly what you always were."
The casual cruelty of the response hung in the air like toxic smoke. Several children began crying openly now, finally understanding they weren't being chosen for an opportunity - they were being judged. And the sentence for most was already decided before the test even began. Truth be told, without a past or lineage of cultivators in their blood. The chances were almost null.
Elder Mo Zhen sighed, as if the whole situation were a minor inconvenience.
"Let's begin. We have three more villages to visit today."
Three villages. Qin Yami processed the information automatically. They do this en masse. An assembly line of shattered hopes.
The first child - a boy of maybe eight years old - approached the stone with steps that seemed to take him to the gallows. He extended his trembling hand and touched the black surface.
Nothing.
The stone remained cold and dead like wet coal.
"Next," Disciple Liu said without even looking at the boy, who ran back to his mother's arms in tears.
And so began the massacre, Qin Yami thought, watching the second child approach with the same predictable result.
One after another, children approached the stone like lambs being led to slaughter. A ten-year-old boy who could barely hold his own hand from trembling so much. Nothing. A nine-year-old girl who whispered prayers softly. Nothing. A robust boy who tried to seem confident but whose eyes betrayed absolute terror. Nothing.
"Twelve children have already been tested," Qin counted mentally. "Twelve failures. Statistically predictable."
The fact that he felt no pity at all no longer bothered him so much at this point. It was as if the part of him that should care was... asleep. Anesthetized. And the worst part is that this was starting to seem normal as time passed. When he stopped thinking about it, it seemed to take over. Intensified. Actually, he knew he had changed. But what could he do? He was a mortal. Not a protagonist with an iron mind.
The thirteenth candidate was different. A girl of maybe thirteen years old, daughter of the village blacksmith. She had slight muscles in her arms - unusual for a girl her age - and walked with a more upright posture than the other children. When she touched the stone, something happened.
The stone blinked. For a fraction of a second, a single blue vein ran across its surface before disappearing.
The crowd collectively held its breath. Disciple Liu Yanran frowned, studying the stone more carefully.
"Again," she ordered.
The girl touched the stone a second time. The same result - a single weak pulse of blue light that disappeared almost instantly.
"Fifth category talent," Liu Yanran announced with disdain. "Inadequate."
The girl's face collapsed. Fifth category - the lowest possible level of spiritual talent. Technically, she had potential, but so minimal it would be useless for any respectable sect.
"But she has talent!" the girl's father shouted desperately. "The stone reacted! You saw it!"
Elder Mo Zhen looked at the man as if he were a particularly irritating insect.
"Fifth category talent is like having broken legs and calling it 'ability to walk'," he said with casual cruelty. "Technically correct, but completely useless."
Qin Yami observed the scene with clinical interest. Hope being ignited for a second before being brutally crushed was, in a way, worse than having no hope at all. It was like offering water to someone dying of thirst and then throwing it on the ground.
"Psychologically devastating," he analyzed. "More cruel than a simple rejection."
The girl returned to her family, her face stained with tears. Her father hugged her, whispering consoling words that sounded empty even to those far away.
Four more children were tested. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
And then it was Xiao Fan's turn.
The boy stepped forward with steps that tried to be firm but failed miserably. His legs trembled so much that Qin wondered if he would manage to reach the stone without falling.
"Here we go," Qin murmured to himself. "The classic moment of the protagonist's humiliation."
Xiao Fan extended his right hand - Qin noticed it was covered with calluses and small cuts, evidence of desperate and useless training - and touched the black surface of the stone.
The silence that followed was so profound it seemed to suck the sound from the world itself. Again the cricket sound of embarrassment rang out.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. The stone remained as dead as a common rock.
"Next," Disciple Liu Yanran said mechanically, already losing interest.
But Xiao Fan didn't move. Instead, he did something that surprised even Qin Yami.
"Please," Xiao Fan said, his voice cracked but determined. "Let me try again. Maybe I didn't touch it right, or—"
The silence that followed was different. It wasn't the silence of expectation, but the silence of someone who had just witnessed something completely unprecedented. Idiot! It was a universal thought of everyone watching the "Idiot" question the test. They might not even agree, and obviously wanted to try again, but question the reliability? NEVER.
"Excuse me?" Disciple Liu Yanran slowly turned to face him, as if she couldn't believe what she had heard. "Are you... questioning our test?"
"No! I'm not questioning," Xiao Fan said quickly, sweat running down his face. "It's just that... I trained a lot. Every day. Maybe if I try with more—"
Now it was Mo Wuba's turn to laugh. A genuine laugh of surprise that soon transformed into something more cruel.
"Trained?" he repeated, as if the word were a joke. "Trained what, exactly? And where?"
The crowd began to murmur. Some people laughed softly - the kind of nervous laughter that arises when discomfort becomes unbearable. Others looked away, embarrassed by the public humiliation.
Qin Yami watched everything with clinical fascination. It was exactly as he had predicted, but seeing it happen in reality had an almost surreal quality of immersion.
"I know I don't have natural talent," he said, his voice gaining strength. "But determination can compensate for the lack of—"
"ENOUGH!"
Elder Mo Zhen's voice exploded through the square with a force that made several people physically stagger. The air around him vibrated with pure qi energy, and for a moment, Qin felt as if his lungs were being compressed by invisible hands.
"My wounds..AH..." So this was the difference between a mortal and a low-level cultivator. Qin engraved it in his mind.
"Little worm," Elder Mo said, his voice low but loaded with mortal threat. "You dare waste our time with your pathetic delusions? You think cultivation is a game where 'effort' compensates for lack of talent?"
He raised his hand, and Qin saw blue energy concentrating around his fingers. The intention was clear - he was about to use Xiao Fan as an example of what happens when mortals bother cultivators.
It was at this moment that Lin Mei moved.
The girl ran in front of her brother, arms open, protecting Xiao Fan with her small body.
"Please!" she shouted, tears running down her face. "Don't hurt my brother, it's not his fault for dreaming! He just wanted to give me the best"
The silence that followed was different from the previous one. Where before there was cruel expectation, now there was something more dangerous - interest in the courageously foolish audacity.
Mo Wuba was looking at Lin Mei with an expression that made Qin's stomach turn. It wasn't the look of someone seeing a brave child. It was the look of a predator who had just found a particularly interesting prey.
"Well, well," Mo Wuba said, his voice suddenly silky. "And who is this little heroine?"
Elder Mo Zhen lowered his hand, the blue energy dissipating. But Qin could see that his attention had also shifted to the girl.
"Bring the girl," Elder Mo ordered.
"No!" Xiao Fan shouted, trying to pull Lin Mei behind him. "She's not old enough to be tested! She's only eleven years old!"
"The age for formal tests is twelve years old," Disciple Liu said with clinical coldness. "But we can make... exceptions... "
Qin Yami felt something move in the back of his mind. It was like a distant alarm, trying to alert him that something was wrong. But the sensation was weak, muffled, as if it were coming from very far away.
Two men from the village stepped forward - probably ordered by the cultivators - and held Xiao Fan by the arms, preventing him from interfering. Traitors! Xiao Fan burned with immediate rage.
Lin Mei looked back at her brother, then at the cultivators. Her eyes were full of tears.
She walked to the stone with small but firm steps.
Qin Yami leaned forward unconsciously. All his webnovel reader instincts were screaming that this was the crucial moment. The turning point. The moment when the real story began.
Lin Mei extended her small hand and touched the test stone.
What happened next changed everything.