Dust and Mud

Dawn mist, damp with the scent of earth and straw, drifted into the low thatched hut.

Li Tui opened his eyes.

The memories of this life instantly fell into place. In this life, he was named Wang Erwa, a tenant farmer's son and a field serf of the local Zhao Family.

"Second life."

He pushed himself upright. The reed mat scratched at his skin, and the hut smelled of last night's firewood. His father, Wang Shu, was snoring at the other end, while his younger sister was curled up in a pile of straw beside the stove.

Li Tui quietly got up and walked to the door.

The sky had yet to brighten, and blue-gray mist drifted through the mountain hollow. In the distance, the Zhao Family's terraced fields appeared and disappeared in the fog, like layer upon layer of heavy shackles.

He spread his hands.

Before his eyes was a pair of adolescent hands, small and thin, with knobby joints. Thick calluses and cracks covered the palms, and dirt that would not wash away clogged the spaces beneath his nails.

So this is a life among the lowest of the low? Born of dust and mud.

A rustle came from the cooking area. Wang Shu emerged, stooped over, carrying two bowls of watery vegetable gruel. The surface of the gruel was so thin it could almost reflect a face.

"Erwa? Up so early?" Wang Shu handed him the thicker bowl.

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

Wang Shu squatted beside him, head bowed as he drank, staring blankly into the mist.

After a long while, he muttered, "In two days, the Zhao Family will open their mountain gate... You should go too, just to go through the motions. Don't dwell on those immortal affairs."

Li Tui did not answer.

Of course he would go, and he had to be chosen. Only by relying on the Zhao Family's influence and obtaining a supply of Spirit Grain could he safely get through the most vulnerable period before his spiritual root awakened.

It was the only path available to him now.

"Father," Li Tui suddenly looked up, his voice calm but clear. "I've made inquiries. Even if they find something and choose you, you'll still sign a death contract. Your life belongs to the household, and you'll have to hand over most of what you earn from then on. If you fail to cultivate properly and they throw you out, you might end up worse off than you are now."

Wang Shu froze with his bowl halfway to his mouth.

He turned to stare at his son in astonishment. This son, usually as quiet as a bottle gourd, had actually spoken with such piercing insight.

Li Tui met his gaze. "Even knowing all that, you still want me to go?"

It was as if that gaze had scalded Wang Shu. He abruptly turned away.

It was some time before he squeezed out a dry, hoarse voice through clenched teeth. "...If you go, there's at least... a way to stay alive. If you stay home, you'll be like your father, working yourself to death in the fields, and... and never seeing an end to it."

After speaking, Wang Shu took his bowl and stumbled back into the cooking area.

Li Tui looked away and drank the last of his gruel.

His thoughts had already turned entirely to the spiritual root test that was about to come.

On the day of the test, the square before the ancestral hall in Jinan Town was packed with people, their voices clamoring.

Wang Shu gripped Li Tui's wrist tightly and struggled to force his way through the crowd. His palm was cold, clammy, and sticky. Li Tui let himself be pulled along, his gaze sweeping over the noisy surroundings: vendors hawking snacks, women calling out sharp reminders, and pale-faced boys.

Everything was so vivid and noisy, yet it seemed separated from him by a layer of fog.

Wang Shu finally found a gap beside the ancestral hall and stopped, panting hard. His gaunt hand slipped into his clothes and fumbled around for a long while. At last, he pulled out three polished Beast Coins and pressed them into Li Tui's palm.

"Take these," Wang Shu said, his voice taut. "Buy yourself something filling. Don't go up there on an empty stomach."

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

He went to the nearest noodle stall and spent two coins on a bowl of clear vegetarian noodle soup. Then he brought it back and put it into Wang Shu's hands. "Father, you eat."

His tone was even, but left no room for refusal.

Wang Shu froze.

Without waiting for him to react, Li Tui used the last coin to buy the smallest piece of malt candy, its sugar shell cracked, and gently set it beside the bowl of noodles. "Something sweet. It'll help take the edge off."

When he was done, he turned to face the raised platform before the ancestral hall.

"The immortal master has arrived!"

The ceremonial announcement cleaved through all the commotion.

The crowd fell silent at once.

A middle-aged man in a blue Daoist robe embroidered with cloud patterns stood on the platform with his hands behind his back. He had fair skin, a three-strand long beard, and an indifferent expression. At his waist hung a white jade token, its warm yet cool light flowing across its surface.

Just standing there, he exuded an invisible pressure that silenced everyone below.

Zhao Mingsheng.

Li Tui had seen him in his previous life. He was one of the Zhao Family's senior figures.

"Anyone under sixteen, come forward and line up." His voice was not loud, yet it clearly reached everyone's ears.

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

Li Tui stumbled into the cluster of boys being organized into a line.

The line moved toward the platform, silent and uneasy.

On the platform, the Spirit Testing Jade lay still in the middle of a bright yellow silk cloth. It was the size of a palm, smooth and white, with what looked like milky-white clouds slowly swirling inside.

The boys went up one by one, trembling as they pressed their hands to the jade.

Most of the time, the stone remained silent as a stubborn rock. The boys would retreat with ashen faces, and suppressed sobs often rose from the crowd below.

On the rare occasions when the jade gave off a faint grayish-white glow, Zhao Mingsheng would announce without even lifting his eyelids, "Fourth-grade, false spiritual root." Even so, the chosen boys and their families would erupt with a joy so intense it nearly made them swoon.

Li Tui watched quietly.

A false spiritual root was merely a faint sensitivity beyond that of an ordinary person. They would never have any hope of drawing in qi.

The divide between immortals and mortals had been decided from the very beginning.

The line grew shorter and shorter.

At last, it was his turn.

He walked onto the platform and stood before the sandalwood table. Zhao Mingsheng's gaze swept over his coarse-cloth clothes, washed pale and covered in thick patches. His expression remained unchanged as he lifted his chin slightly.

Li Tui extended his hand.

His palm was rough, but steady.

Palm down, he slowly covered the warm jade stone.

The instant he touched it, the clouds that had been slowly swirling inside the jade abruptly stopped.

Then—

A clear, gentle, life-filled emerald-green glow quietly spread from the center of the stone, like the first new leaf sprouting in early spring. It shone steadily and softly!

Fresh and vibrant, impossible to mistake!

A subdued gasp rose from the crowd below.

Zhao Mingsheng, who had maintained his indifferent expression all along, moved his brows almost imperceptibly. He focused on the emerald-green glow, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Only then did he look up and properly examine the thin, dark-skinned boy standing straight before him, the son of a tenant farmer.

"Wood-element spiritual root, third-grade."

He picked up his brush and recorded it in the register. His voice held a little more weight than before.

"Name, age, and place of origin."

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

"Mm." Zhao Mingsheng nodded. "Stand aside and wait."

"Yes."

Li Tui withdrew to an area marked out on one side of the platform. Three or four boys were already standing there. Most were dressed more neatly than he was, and now they were all sizing him up, some openly, some discreetly. Their looks held curiosity, scrutiny, and a hint of rejection that was difficult to discern.

Li Tui paid no heed to their varied gazes. He stood quietly and looked down at the crowd.

Amid the surging mass of people, Wang Shu was straining onto his tiptoes, craning his neck to peer this way.

They were too far apart for Li Tui to make him out anymore.