The first light of dawn bled across the mountains, dyeing the mist in shades of gold and gray.
Within a modest courtyard at the foot of Azure Spirit Sect, a boy sat cross-legged beneath an old pine. His eyes were closed, his breath steady — too steady for one so young.
Polyfalls Yen, age thirteen.
Once the son of a prestigious family that worshiped talent like gods.
Now, the adopted child of a poor outer-sect couple who treated him as their own.
Morning in the Outer Courtyard
The door slid open with a soft creak.
A gentle voice followed.
"Yen, you've been awake since before dawn again?"
His foster mother, Madam Lian, stood at the threshold, holding a bowl of steaming rice porridge. Her face was weathered, her hands rough from work, but her eyes carried warmth that could melt frost.
He opened his eyes, gazing at her. For a heartbeat, something like gratitude flickered within the steel of his stare.
"I couldn't sleep," he said quietly.
She sighed.
"You've changed lately… you barely smile anymore. You used to laugh with the neighbor's children, remember?"
He looked away. Smile?
That word felt foreign now — as though it belonged to another life, another soul.
From the doorway, his foster father chuckled, hiding concern behind rough humor.
"Let the boy be, Lian. Maybe silence is his cultivation method."
Madam Lian frowned.
"Still, today is his Awakening. He should eat something."
Polyfalls nodded, accepted the bowl, and finished it without a word. When he stood, the morning light revealed the faint sharpness of his features — a beauty too calm, too cold for his age.
Even his smile seemed carved from ice.
"Don't worry," he said. "Whatever happens today… I'll be fine."
Madam Lian touched his shoulder softly.
"You're our son now. Root or no root, you'll always have a home here."
He didn't reply, but in his heart, a strange heaviness stirred.
He turned toward the mountains, where the bells of Azure Spirit Sect began to toll.
The Ceremony of Roots
The sect's central square was alive with color and power. Spiritual energy shimmered like mist, and banners of the great elders waved proudly in the wind.
Disciples whispered excitedly — today was their Awakening.
At the center stood a massive Spirit Testing Stone, glowing faintly with ancient runes.
Elders watched from their high seats, and among them, the young prodigies stood tall:
Liang Xun, grandson of the First Elder — golden root, proud eyes.
Mu Qinglan, daughter of the Hall Master — elegant, radiant with azure spirit light.
One by one, the youths tested their roots.
Cheers rose with each dazzling display of talent.
Then came Polyfalls Yen.
His gray robe fluttered as he stepped forward.
When his hand touched the stone, the light dimmed… until it was almost gone.
A faint, colorless hue pulsed once — weak, lifeless — then vanished.
The crowd fell silent.
"Mortal root," Elder Han said without emotion. "No cultivation potential."
Laughter rippled through the disciples.
Liang Xun sneered.
"A mortal among cultivators — how pitiful. Perhaps you should return to sweeping the courtyards."
Yen lifted his eyes. They were calm — too calm.
A faint killing intent shimmered beneath that stillness, gone before anyone could name it.
He bowed slightly and stepped back into the crowd, his face unreadable.
The Wishing Well
After the test, each disciple was led to the Wishing Well, said to mirror one's destiny. Most tossed coins in silence; few believed in its legend.
When it was his turn, Polyfalls Yen gazed into its surface. It reflected nothing but darkness.
He whispered,
"If fate still remembers me… show me the path."
The water rippled.
A crimson light flickered deep within.
"Child of despair, I heard your cry once in death's shadow.
Beneath the deepest abyss lies your truth.
Seek the Tomb of the Demon God… and claim what is yours."
The glow faded. No one else saw. The well fell silent again.
The Abyssal Descent
That night, he followed the call to the sea.
The waves roared like beasts; lightning cracked across the horizon.
He stepped into the dark waters without hesitation.
The deeper he sank, the heavier the ocean pressed upon him — yet his heart was strangely calm.
At last, in the farthest depths where even light dared not tread, he found it:
a colossal gate sealed in chains of black iron, pulsing faintly with demonic aura.
On it were carved words older than the heavens:
"Tomb of the Demon God."
The moment his palm touched the seal, blood-red light burst forth and swallowed him whole.