Dust and Mud

The morning mist, carrying the damp scent of soil and straw, drifted into the low-roofed thatched hut.

Li Tui opened his eyes.

The memories belonging to this life instantly fell into place; in this world, he was named Wang Erwa, the son of a tenant farmer and a field slave for the local Zhao Family.

"The second life."

He propped himself up. The reed mat was coarse and prickly, and the room smelled of overnight firewood. In this life, his father, Wang Shu, was snoring on the other side, while his younger sister was curled up in a pile of straw by the stove.

Li Tui stepped onto the floor quietly and walked to the door.

The sky had not yet brightened, and a grey-blue mist floated through the mountain hollow. In the distance, the terraced fields of the Zhao Family loomed in and out of the fog like layers of heavy shackles.

He spread his hands.

What met his eyes were the hands of a youth—thin and small, with large knuckles, palms covered in thick calluses and cracks, and dirt that could not be washed away wedged under his fingernails.

Is this the fate of a servant in the wealth-tier? Born as nothing but dust and mud.

A rustling sound came from the kitchen. Wang Shu shuffled out with a hunched back, holding two bowls of thin vegetable gruel, the surface of which was clear enough to reflect a person's silhouette.

"Erwa? Why are you up so early?" Wang Shu handed over the slightly thicker bowl.

Li Tui took it and squatted on the threshold, sipping slowly. The gruel was bland and tasteless, but it filled the stomach. He ate carefully, not wasting a single drop.

Wang Shu also squatted nearby, head bowed as he drank, his eyes staring blankly into the mist.

After a long while, he muttered in his throat, "In two days, the Zhao Family will open their gates... you go too, just to go through the motions. Don't think too much about those immortal matters."

Li Tui did not respond.

He certainly had to go, and he had to be chosen. Only by leveraging the power of the Zhao Family and obtaining the supply of Spirit Grain could he safely survive the most fragile stage before awakening his spiritual root.

This was the only path available right now.

"Father," Li Tui suddenly looked up, his voice calm yet clear, "I've asked around. Even if something is detected and I am chosen, the contract I sign will be a death bond. My life will belong to the masters, and most of what I earn in the future will have to be handed over. If I don't manage to cultivate anything and get thrown out, I fear it will be even worse than it is now."

Wang Shu's movement of drinking the gruel stalled.

He turned his face, looking at his son in astonishment. This son, who was usually as silent as a wooden stake, had actually spoken such profound words.

Li Tui met his gaze: "Even so, do you still want me to go?"

Wang Shu seemed burned by that gaze and abruptly turned his head away.

After a long while, he squeezed a dry, raspy voice through his teeth: "...If you go, there will at least... be a way to live. If you stay at home, like your father, working yourself to death in the fields, you will... you will never see the end of it."

After saying this, Wang Shu carried his bowl and stumbled back into the kitchen.

Li Tui withdrew his gaze and finished the last drop of gruel.

His mind had already turned entirely toward the upcoming spiritual root test.

On the day of the test, the area in front of the Jinan Town ancestral hall was bustling with noise.

Wang Shu gripped Li Tui's wrist tightly, struggling to push forward through the crowd, his palms cold and clammy. Li Tui let himself be pulled along, his eyes sweeping over the surrounding commotion—the hawking of snack vendors, the shrill instructions of mothers, and the pale faces of the youths.

Everything was vivid and noisy, yet it felt as if it were separated by a layer of fog.

Wang Shu finally found a gap on the side of the ancestral hall and stopped, panting heavily. His withered hand reached into his bosom, fumbling for a long time before pulling out three polished Beast Coins, which he pressed into Li Tui's palm.

"Take them," Wang Shu's voice was tight, "buy something substantial to eat. Don't go up on that stage on an empty stomach."

Li Tui looked down at the coins in his palm and nodded.

He walked to the nearest noodle stall, spent two coins on a bowl of clear vegetable noodles, and brought it back, thrusting it into Wang Shu's hands: "Father, you eat."

His tone was flat, yet brooked no refusal.

Wang Shu was stunned.

Li Tui didn't wait for him to react; he used the remaining coin to buy the smallest piece of malt candy with a cracked sugar shell and placed it gently by the side of the noodle bowl: "It's sweet, it'll help settle your stomach."

After doing this, he turned to face the high platform of the ancestral hall.

"The Immortal Master arrives!"

The shout cut through all the noise.

The crowd fell silent in an instant.

A middle-aged man dressed in a cyan cloud-patterned Daoist robe stood on the platform with his hands behind his back. His skin was fair, he had a long three-strand beard, and his expression was indifferent. A mutton-fat jade token at his waist emitted a warm yet cold light.

Just by standing there, an invisible aura pressed down on the crowd, making them as silent as cicadas in winter.

Zhao Mingsheng.

Li Tui had seen this man in his previous life; he was a high-ranking figure within the Zhao Family.

"Those under sixteen, come forward and line up." The voice was not loud, yet it drilled clearly into everyone's ears.

Wang Shu trembled all over and suddenly pushed Li Tui forward.

Li Tui stumbled into the group of youths who were currently forming a line.

The line was silent and anxious as it began to crawl toward the high platform.

On the high platform, the Spirit Testing Jade lay quietly in the center of bright yellow silk. It was the size of a palm, entirely translucent white, with milky white clouds seemingly flowing slowly within it.

The youths went up one by one, their hands trembling as they pressed them against the jade.

Most of the time, the jade remained as silent as a common stone. The youths would then retreat with faces ashen, often followed by the sound of suppressed sobbing from the crowd below.

Occasionally, the jade would emit a faint, grayish-white glow, and Zhao Mingsheng would announce, "Grade D, False Spiritual Root," without even lifting his eyelids. Even so, the chosen youth and their family would erupt into a near-dizzying frenzy of joy.

Li Tui watched quietly.

A False Spiritual Root was nothing more than a sliver of sensitivity greater than that of a mortal, with no hope of ever channeling qi in a lifetime.

The divide between immortal and mortal was destined from the very beginning.

The line grew shorter and shorter.

Finally, it was his turn.

He walked onto the high platform and stood before the sandalwood table. Zhao Mingsheng's gaze swept over his faded, heavily patched coarse cloth clothes, calm and indifferent, before he tilted his chin upward.

Li Tui reached out his hand.

His palm was rough, yet steady.

With his palm facing down, he slowly covered the smooth, warm jade.

The moment they made contact, the clouds that had been slowly swirling inside the jade suddenly stalled.

Immediately following.

A clear, warm, and vibrant cyan-green glow rippled quietly from the center of the jade, like the first sprout emerging in early spring, shining steadily and softly!

Fresh and brimming with vitality, it was unmistakable!

A hushed gasp rose from the crowd below.

Zhao Mingsheng, who had maintained an indifferent expression the entire time, felt his eyebrows twitch almost imperceptibly. He focused his gaze on the cyan-green glow, a flash of surprise crossing his eyes, before he finally looked up to properly appraise the thin, dark-skinned tenant farmer's son standing before him.

"Wood-attribute Spiritual Root, Grade C."

He picked up his brush to record it in the register, his voice carrying a bit more gravity than before.

"Name, age, place of origin."

"Wang Erwa, thirteen, tenant of Li Family Village in the west of town." Li Tui withdrew his hand and answered with his eyes lowered.

"Mm." Zhao Mingsheng nodded. "Stand to the side and wait."

"Yes."

Li Tui retreated to the area marked off at the side of the high platform. Three or four youths were already standing there, most of them dressed more neatly than him; they were now observing him either openly or covertly, their gazes filled with curiosity, inquiry, and a trace of barely perceptible rejection.

Li Tui seemed oblivious to their varied stares, standing quietly and casting his gaze toward the crowd below.

Amidst the surging sea of people, Wang Shu was desperately standing on his tiptoes, craning his neck to look toward this side.

The distance between them was too great; Li Tui could no longer see him clearly.