BEGINNING OF ISOLATION
Shen Chen was seven years old when his spiritual roots were tested.
The ceremony was a grand affair, held in the clan's ancestral hall—a vast chamber of marble and jade, its walls covered in ancient runes that pulsed with spiritual energy. The clan's elders sat in a semicircle, their faces stern, their eyes sharp. The other children of the main branch stood in a line, their parents beside them, their faces filled with hope.
Shen Chen stood at the end of the line, his hand clasped tightly in his mother's. Her grip was warm and reassuring, her smile a beacon of light in the sea of stern faces.
"You'll do fine, my little dragon," she whispered. "Just breathe and trust yourself."
He nodded, his heart pounding with fear.
The test itself was simple: each child would place their hand on a spirit jade stone, its surface smooth and cool. The stone would glow in response to their spiritual energy, its brightness revealing the quality of their roots.
The first child stepped forward, his hand trembling as he touched the stone. It glowed a soft blue, its light steady and pure.
"Mid-Grade Spiritual Roots," the elder announced, his voice resonant. "Acceptable."
The parents applauded, their faces filled with pride. The boy stepped back, his chest puffed with satisfaction.
One by one, the children stepped forward. One by one, the stone glowed—bright green, soft yellow, deep crimson. Each child's roots were revealed, their futures determined.
And then, it was Shen Chen's turn.
He stepped forward, his legs trembling, his heart pounding. His mother squeezed his hand, her face filled with hope.
"You can do this," she whispered.
He placed his hand on the stone.
Nothing happened.
The silence was deafening. The elders leaned forward, their eyes narrowing. The other children whispered among themselves, their voices sharp with curiosity.
"Try again," the elder said, his voice cold.
Shen Chen tried again. And again. And again.
But the result was always the same: nothing.
"No spiritual roots," the elder announced, his voice flat. "He cannot cultivate."
The silence that followed was even more crushing. Shen Chen felt his mother's grip tighten, felt her body tense beside him. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with tears.
"Mother?" he whispered, his voice small and broken.
She forced a smile, but he could see the pain in her eyes. "It's okay, my little dragon. It's okay."
But it was not okay. It would never be okay again.