The morning sun bathed the Lin Clan's ancestral grounds in a pale gold, its light falling upon the carved eaves and crimson pillars of the great hall. Birds circled above the tiled roofs, their cries sharp and clear, as though they too awaited what was about to begin.
For the Lin Clan, today was not just another day. It was the day of the thirteenth-year testing.
Each year, when the children of the clan reached thirteen, they would step into the ancestral hall to have their fates revealed. The testing stones, passed down from generations long past, would expose both their spiritual roots and their bloodline concentration. It was not a choice, nor was it merely ceremony. It was a rite that determined a child's standing, their future path, even their worth in the eyes of the clan.
No child was tested earlier. Before thirteen, spiritual roots lay unstable, prone to false readings. Too late, and suspicion fell that the family sought to delay humiliation. Thus, thirteen stood as the unyielding age, the line all must cross.
Lin Xun walked through the courtyard with quiet steps, the clamor of voices reaching him long before he entered the testing ground. A month had passed since the night blades had sought his life. A month since his world had shifted. Though his body bore no wound now, the memory lingered like a shadow.
Ahead, banners fluttered in the morning breeze. The great hall loomed, its doors thrown wide, guards in ceremonial armor flanking the entrance. From afar, he caught sight of his parents.
His father, Lin Zhenhai, stood tall, his expression carved from stone, the lines of his face sharp as though chiseled by flame. His mother, Lin Huian, stood beside him, her robes of soft green flowing with the wind, her eyes searching the crowd until they found him. Her gaze softened, carrying both worry and hope.
Lin Xun's steps grew lighter as he approached. His parents' presence steadied him.
"Father, Mother," he greeted, bowing respectfully.
"Xun'er," Huian whispered, her hand brushing his arm, "do not fear. Whatever the result, you are our son."
Zhenhai's gaze lingered on his boy. "Stand firm. The testing does not lie, but neither does it define all that you are. Remember that."
Lin Xun nodded. Within, he felt the weight of both their hopes and his own silent resolve. This day would carve his place within the clan. He could not falter.
Beyond them, the testing ground stretched wide, paved with ancient stone. At its center lay two relics of old: the Spirit Origin Mirror, and the Bloodline Flame Cauldron. The first was a crystal disk that shimmered faintly even in the sunlight, said to reveal the hidden nature of a cultivator's roots. The second was a bronze vessel etched with fiery runes, used to awaken blood and measure its nearness to the ancestor's flame.
Clan elders gathered in their seats, their robes embroidered with crimson fire motifs. Servants moved about with scrolls and ink, prepared to record each result. Around the courtyard, disciples, parents, and guests pressed close, the air thick with anticipation.
The Lin Clan valued fire above all. Their ancestral bloodline was steeped in flame, and most of their arts were fire-rooted. Yet still, each youth's nature had to be revealed. Some bore fire with pride, others did not. The clan would favor those who carried its flame, but talent, whatever form it took, was never ignored.
A murmur swept through the crowd as a figure entered the hall.
Lin Ming.
He strode with confidence, robes neat, his chin slightly raised. His gaze swept over Lin Xun, and a smirk curved his lips.
"So, cousin," he said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. "Today the truth will be shown. Whether you were ever more than empty words."
Lin Xun met his eyes calmly. He felt no need to answer, no need to waste words on a taunt. The silence itself was reply enough.
Lin Ming's smirk faltered for a breath before he turned away.
The elder presiding lifted his hand, his voice steady and resonant. "The testing begins. One by one, step forward. Let the truth of your spirit and blood be revealed."
Children began to move, each called in turn.
The first youth placed his palms upon the mirror. A glow of faint green emerged, mingled with streaks of brown. "Wood and Earth, middle-grade True Root." The elder's tone was calm, his judgment recorded.
Another child stepped forth. Blue flared, then yellow, four colors flickered weakly together. "Pseudo Root of four attributes. Low-grade."
Some results drew mild nods of approval. Others earned only sighs or silence. For each, whispers spread through the crowd—parents murmuring, peers judging, elders watching.
At last, Lin Ming's name was called.
He strode to the mirror with measured steps, pausing only to glance at Lin Xun with a flash of triumph in his eyes. His palms pressed against the surface.
The crystal blazed at once. Crimson fire erupted, bright and fierce, and beneath it silver light spread in sharp brilliance.
"Fire and Metal," the elder announced, his voice carrying weight, "a True Spiritual Root, high-grade. Ratio seventy fire, thirty metal."
The crowd stirred with excitement. Approval and envy mingled in their voices.
"A genius indeed."
"Fire and metal, strong harmony."
"Lin Ming's future is bright."
Lin Ming stepped back, pride flashing across his face as he basked in the murmurs. His gaze slid once more toward Lin Xun, filled with challenge, as if daring him to stand against what had just been revealed.
Lin Xun stood still, his eyes steady. His time had not yet come.
He lifted his gaze toward the mirror, then toward the cauldron. The weight of the moment pressed against him like the sky itself. He drew in a slow breath. Within his chest, the embers stirred.
The fire of destiny waited.