When the jade-green glow of the Spirit Testing Jade faded, the air before the ancestral hall froze for an instant, then shattered beneath a wave of even louder commotion.
Wang Shu stood below the platform, craning his neck, his eyes fixed unblinking on the small figure standing above.
It was too far away for him to make out his son's expression. He only saw green light flare before the platform, then the Zhao Family immortal master say something to Erwa.
But the crowd around them had yet to disperse, and the murmurs quickly reached his ears:
"Incredible... Grade C!"
"Someone's ancestral graves must be smoking with good fortune..."
"Tsk, I heard he's a tenant farmer's son. What luck."
Wang Shu's Adam's apple bobbed, but he couldn't make a sound. Could it be Erwa?!
Only when two servants came up to him did Wang Shu finally snap back to his senses.
"Old Mr. Wang, the immortal master requests your presence."
He was practically half-carried to the platform. The chill of the flagstones seeped through his straw sandals, but it couldn't suppress the heat racing from his soles to the top of his head.
He looked up and saw his son coming down from the platform, his dark little face glowing in the afternoon light.
"Father!"
Li Tui rushed over to him in a few strides. His voice trembled with "excitement," but his eyes were far too clear for a thirteen-year-old farm boy.
He grabbed Wang Shu by the arm, gripping hard. "I have a spiritual root! I'm Grade C!"
A choked sound escaped Wang Shu's throat. He grabbed his son's wrist in return, holding on for dear life.
It's real. This isn't a dream.
"Old Mr. Wang."
Zhao Mingsheng's voice came from the platform. Only then did Wang Shu realize he was still clutching his son. He hurriedly let go and his knees buckled as he tried to kneel, but a gentle force held him up.
"Your son has decent aptitude and shows promise." Zhao Mingsheng's gaze lingered on Li Tui for a moment, then shifted to Wang Shu. "The Zhao Family is willing to grant twenty mu of paddy fields and thirty taels of silver to provide for your household. Your son will cultivate with the Zhao Family from now on, and he will have a bright future."
Twenty mu of land. Thirty taels of silver.
Wang Shu's ears rang as the words landed heavily in his heart. He wanted to speak, but his lips trembled several times before he managed to force out a hoarse reply. "Th-thank you, immortal master... I... I..."
His words tumbled over one another.
Zhao Mingsheng no longer looked at him. His gaze settled on Li Tui. "'Erwa' is ultimately too vulgar a name. I bestow a new name upon you. From now on, you shall be called Wang Yuan."
Wang Shu trembled all over and hurriedly nudged his son. "Quick, quick, thank the immortal master!"
Li Tui didn't hesitate. He dropped to his knees with a thump, his forehead striking the flagstones solidly. Three dull knocks, clean and decisive.
"This disciple, Wang Yuan, thanks the immortal master for bestowing a name!"
He raised his head, a red mark on his forehead, looking utterly sincere.
Zhao Mingsheng gave a slight nod and flicked a finger almost imperceptibly.
A wisp of faint spiritual energy slipped into Li Tui's body, leaving a mark.
It wasn't a restriction, only a mark to make him easier to track later.
Li Tui made his body tremble at just the right moment, as if he could barely contain his excitement.
I played the part well enough.
Li Tui's mind was perfectly clear. He had only acted that way earlier because seeming too calm might arouse suspicion.
As dusk fell, Li Tui shouldered a small bundle and followed Zhao Mingsheng onto the flagstone path.
Inside were only two sets of coarse clothes, which Wang Shu had secretly tucked in earlier. The fabric was rough and washed pale, with patches at the elbows, but the clothes had been folded neatly.
But before they had gone even a dozen steps, hurried footsteps sounded behind them. Then a pair of rough hands seized Li Tui's sleeve.
Wang Shu had caught up again.
Wang Shu's lips moved several times before he managed to force out a low, hoarse voice. "When you get to the Zhao Family... be sharp."
After saying this, he paused as if weighing something, then finally added, "Keep the silver safe. Don't let anyone find out."
Li Tui took the few bits of silver, still slightly damp with sweat, and fell silent for a moment.
I have to see this performance through to the end. As he thought this, he had already arranged the right expression of youthful emotion on his face.
Li Tui looked up at Wang Shu's deeply lined face, deliberately making his voice catch with a hint of a sob. "Father... take good care of those fields. Don't... don't work too hard."
Then Li Tui gently slipped his sleeve free, took one last look at Wang Shu's stooped figure, and turned away without looking back.
The flagstone path stretched into the dusk. Houses grew denser on either side, their eaves rising higher.
In the distance, the Zhao Family's separate residence came into view, its walls white and its roof tiles black. A tall gate tower stood beneath lanterns that cast a dim yellow glow.
West Courtyard, Room Seven, Class B.
The old servant brought Li Tui here and then left. Four youths stood in the courtyard, the dusk stretching their shadows long.
"My name's Zhou Fu, from the Zhou Family's grain shop in town." The slightly chubby youth spoke first, deliberately raising his voice. "We'll be living in the same courtyard from now on. Let's look out for one another."
The other two introduced themselves: Sun Yu, from the Sun Family's cloth shop, and Wu Dachui, from the blacksmith's shop.
At last, all three turned their eyes to Li Tui.
Li Tui lowered his gaze, wearing just the right look of awkwardness. "My name's Wang Yuan. I'm from Li Family Village."
"Li Family Village?" Zhou Fu raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over the patch at Li Tui's elbow. "Oh, a farmer."
His tone was even, but it drew a clear line between them.
Sun Yu and Wu Dachui said nothing, but the distance in their eyes was unmistakable.
Li Tui said no more. He picked up his bundle and headed for the room farthest inside. When he pushed open the door, a faint musty smell greeted him.
The room was sparse: a bed, a table, a chair, and a cabinet. On the bed lay a half-new quilt; on the table sat an oil lamp, a pottery bowl, and a pair of bamboo chopsticks.
Plain, but clean.
Outside the window was a small bamboo grove. The leaves rustled in the evening breeze.
Li Tui set down his bundle, lit the oil lamp, then crossed to the window by the moonlight outside.
His fingertips traced the window frame, the rough grain of the wood scraping against them.
This deep compound of the Zhao Family would be the starting point of his cultivation in this life. After all, in his previous life, he had put down roots here.
And now he needed Spirit Grain, cultivation techniques, and a way to find a crack to climb through in this rigid hierarchy of Aristocratic Clans. Using the Zhao Family's influence was undoubtedly his best option.
As a tenant farmer, the only thing he could rely on was the spiritual root within him...
As the wind outside picked up, bamboo shadows swayed beneath the moonlight like countless blurred hands.
Li Tui slowly drew his gaze back and took one last look at the hands that belonged to a boy, covered in calluses and cracks.
Then he slowly curled his fingers, clenching the moonlight, the bamboo shadows, and every surging thought in his palm.
He turned around and blew out the oil lamp.
The instant darkness swallowed the room, the last traces of youthful awkwardness and bewilderment in Li Tui's eyes vanished with it.
In their place was a stillness like a deep pool, tempered by life and death.
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