Lei blinked at the complex machinery hanging from the roof of the hall. It was a mess of metallic parts and glowing spheres, kept in place by a thick rope that ran through holes inside the parts. Nailed to the roof, the structure swayed lazily. It was almost the size of a grown man. Right below, Lei could see two translucent spheres, hollowed out from the inside. They looked like handles.
“What is this?” Lei asked.
“A Minor Measurement Tool,” Zhu Luli said, stepping beside him. She watched with interest as the old man loosened the rope to allow the kids to reach up to it. “One of Emperor Xia’s creations. This one is probably linked by a formation to a Greater Measurement Tool in Lanzhou.”
“We meet again, old friend,” Fatty Lou said from behind them, a hint of apprehension on his face. He had joined them not long after they were allowed inside the hall. He’d ordered the dummies and said they would be ready tomorrow. Sweat dotted his face. He’d run all the way down here just to get in time. “Different times and a different me, but it still hurts.”
Lei tried to search his soul-brother’s memories to see if he’d come across this thing before. His neck tightened, as if a part of the original Lei Liang still lingered inside his mind. Painful indeed to see the disappointment on his father’s face. His mother’s gasp. His little sister’s incredulous eyes.
None of these are mine.
It still hurt, but Lei pushed through it. He gave a smile to Little Ji when the child stared up at him, confused.
Peering around him, Lei saw nothing but that machinery in the room, save for a table that had a quill and some ink over it. Not even a chair for the old man to relax, which seemed odd as he was clearly favoring his left leg. Government work had a knack for stealing one’s soul. It seemed no different here.
“Here,” the old man said, gesturing for Little Zhao to come closer. The boy raised one clenched fist, looking at it. He turned back and glanced at Lei before making his way toward the Minor Measurement Tool.
He was the same age as Little Ji, and they shared a room with two others. A silent type, except when Lei decided to cook eggs for breakfast. He always had more room than others for the sunny-side ups.
“I’ll cook you three eggs tomorrow,” Lei muttered, winking at him. With that, Little Zhao straightened his back. Following the old man’s example, he grasped the two hollowed spheres, holding them tight.
“Three breaths,” the old man said, reaching upward and pushing a button on one of the spheres. He stepped back and waited, the room going silent.
Lei felt a strange pressure around his chest. A whole fate decided by one’s birth. Hardly a fair thing, but then things were hardly fair at all in this world. Whether you became a cultivator or not depended solely on the spiritual roots hidden deep in your core. A hundred of them can make for a genius. Ten of them, and you’re bound to start searching for a different route.
It was an odd thing indeed. Lei wondered if there was any sense behind it, or if it was any different than being born into more favorable circumstances. Being born rich—was it any different than being blessed with a hundred spiritual roots?
It is. There are things you can’t buy with money here. Things way more important than mere riches.
At least that was what cultivators always seemed to say. Reach for immortality, stand tall atop a peak looking down at the mortals. Strange that they were too blind to see that this tradition was the bane of their existence. But he guessed there must be some truth in it.
The spheres glowed. It was dim at first, like the first lights cleaving through dark clouds. One by one, they glistened, sending streaks of light around the hall. Lei shaded his eyes with one hand, staring between his fingers to get a clear look. Zhu Luli stood with her hands clasped behind her back. She wasn’t bothered by the bright light.
“A hundred spheres,” she said, nodding toward the machinery. “My father told me that before this tool, they used one’s blood to measure one’s talent. A single drop on a moonrock. The number of veins would give the result.”
“That sounds more practical,” Lei said, pulling Little Ji closer to him. “Why bother with all this when you can use a simple rock?”
Zhu Luli shook her head. “These tools form an intricate web that stretches all the way to the capital. It doesn’t measure one’s talent alone; it also records it with one’s own spiritual signature. That’s why they take people’s names. How else would you think you get the cultivator license?”
Lei shrugged. “Then what? Do they have any use for this cultivator license?” He almost seemed to remember that this license acted as an ID card.
“You’re really a country bumpkin,” Zhu Luli chuckled. “In most cities, the chief of guards carries an identification device that can see through a cultivator’s spiritual signature. There’s also a Greater Monitor Formation in the capital or some other cities, though cultivator clans don’t like them. They say it makes things… a tad harder for them.”
“Can’t go around killing people and act like nothing happened, you’re saying,” Fatty Lou chimed in. “Though, I don’t seem to remember Lanzhou as a little paradise. You could almost taste blood in that place.”
“It’s not for protection alone,” Zhu Luli said with a shake of her head. “A cultivator’s license is an essential tool for any cultivator. Alchemists’ Guild, Adventurers’ Guild, or even the Spiritfolding Guild—you can get resources through your achievements. Emperor Xia likened it to the Merit Tokens used in most sects, except this one works in the whole Empire.”
“So you become a disciple of the Empire, is that it?” Lei found it odd and reasonable at the same time. You have to give something to the crowds if you want to keep them away from sects.
“Sort of, yes,” Zhu Luli said, pulling out a bronze badge from her robe. “See this? This is a Bronze Badge from the Adventurers’ Guild. It is the basic one, so it has no benefits. I don’t actually have to carry this thing with me, as it’s bound to my cultivator’s license, but I’ve decided to take it because most guild branches in mortal cities don’t have identification tools.”
Lei and Fatty Lou shared a glance.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
At one point, we’ll have to get our own licenses.
Lei then spoke with doubt, “Do we have to get a badge if we wish to take missions from the guild?”
“You don’t,” Zhu Luli said. “Anyone can take basic missions without a badge. But a badge allows you to build merit, with which you can buy things like cultivation resources and martial arts.”
The lights grew dimmer. Lei lowered his hand and stared up at the spheres. Dozens of them still had light glistening in them, but the old man gestured for Little Zhao to step back. He pulled out a notebook and dabbed his quill in ink before taking note. When he turned toward Lei’s group, there was a little smile on his lips.
“Fifty-seven spiritual roots,” he said, glancing at Lei. “A talented young man. In good hands, he can become an eagle in the eastern skies. You must be proud to have such a good son. I recommend you sign him up for the next Annual Selection Ceremony. He has a good shot at making it into one of those sects.”
Lei was about to say something when Zhu Luli gave him a look. With that, Lei nodded amicably, taking Little Zhao in his arms. “Thanks, I’ll look into it.”
The old man sighed. He gestured for other kids and repeated the process. Spheres glowed, the machine grinding as Lei’s group stood watching. The old man clicked his tongue in awe whenever he saw more than fifty spheres glow in the dark. Supposedly, that marked the average talent in cultivation. Passing the fifty-mark in spiritual roots made you a respectable talent.
It was good that they hadn’t brought Snake, Stone, and Little Mei here. Lei guessed they would’ve had a hard time keeping their talents hidden, especially after seeing the reaction of the old man when Little Meng triggered over seventy spheres. Seventy-six, to be exact, and the old man praised the little girl as a potential genius, even going as far as to slap his knee.
Lei kept a gentle front against him. He also kept away from making promises and tried to praise every kid no matter their results. In his eyes, the number of spiritual roots was meaningless. Genius or not, he would never discriminate between his close group, knowing everyone would find their own strength.
Little Jiao was one of them. The little girl was devastated when only ten spheres glowed in her test. Others tried to console her, but she sobbed silently in Lei’s arms, calling herself a failure over and over again.
“You’re too beautiful to let those tears stain your face,” Lei told her, caressing her soft, brown hair with gentle care, but her wells wouldn’t dry no matter what he did.
It pained Lei. The kid didn’t even know what a real cultivator was or if she really wanted to become one. She just cried as if they’d taken an important part from her.
“Alright now,” Lei said, leaning closer to her and wiping her tears before taking her face in his hands. “Tell me, what do you want?”
“I-I,” she sputtered, sniffing as tears streamed down her face. “I-I don’t want to be left behind.”
Lei scowled at her in the manner of an older brother. “And what makes you think you’ll be left behind?”
Little Jiao turned, raising a trembling finger to the other kids. “T-They will leave me, Big Brother Lei. I’ll be alone once again.”
“But I’m here, aren’t I?” Lei said, smiling softly at her. “And they are your brothers and sisters. Their strength is your strength. Their success is your success. We don’t keep score here, Little Jiao. We’re all a big family.”
She looked at him with teary eyes, and Lei saw in them the cold fear. Left behind. Powerless. It reminded him of the night their parents were killed, butchered right before their eyes. Lei tried to be there for them, but he should’ve known a month or two wouldn’t be enough to get rid of that gaping hole in their hearts.
“You know what, I think I have an idea,” Lei said a moment after, which made Little Jiao blink at him. “You’ve told me you'd liked to cook with your mother, right? It just so happens that I need some serious help for my stall. I want to open a restaurant, and I could use a new cook.”
“B-But I don’t know how to cook dishes like you,” said Little Jiao, her lips pressed into a thin line. But Lei could see a faint glimmer in those big, brown eyes.
He waved a hand at her, as if it were nothing big. “You can learn in no time. And you know what?” he said, leaning closer, cupping one hand over her ear as he whispered. “I can teach you how to make candies. Good ones, better than the ones you eat in the market.”
A gasp. Little Jiao clamped her mouth shut with two hands, staring at him in shock. She then asked, “Promise?”
Lei nodded with a smile as he reached out with his pinky finger. “A pinky promise.”
They locked their fingers and smiled, and Lei caressed her soft hair before taking a step back. The old man gestured for Little Ji, the last in line, to come forth.
Lei raised a fist at him. “You’ve got this!”
Little Ji didn’t seem that confident as he clutched the spheres. His fingers shook. He kept glancing back at Lei, as if expecting some sort of help. Lei could only smile at him. Smile and wait. Being talentless wasn’t a crime.
Of the nine kids, four had above-average talents. Zhu Luli said that Little Meng, with her seventy-six roots, could easily choose a martial sect and get accepted. The Empire’s academies would welcome her with open arms. She had the potential to become something other than a mortal.
But she had just that—a potential. She wasn’t a genius with over ninety spiritual roots. Those were the ones the sects and academies fought for. Plotted, even, as kidnapping a talented child wasn’t an unheard-of practice. But they didn’t always show their hands. They promised resources and riches—not just to the kid, but to their family or clan. That was usually enough to seal their lips.
Not that different from just snatching the kid from their family.
They basically sold their kids off to grand organizations. And it wasn’t like the kid would be in better hands if born into a rich, established clan of cultivators. That was the great dilemma. Which one would you choose? Zhu Luli seemed to loathe her clan with a passion.
The spheres glowed. That was how the process always started. A glimmer of light in the lower spheres, then it slowly spread up to the others. They formed a twisted ring shape, the spheres did, almost looking like a full circle.
Seconds passed. Drops of sweat trickled down Little Ji’s brows. He was grinding his teeth, clutching the spheres with all his might. Lei almost lauded the effort, but that thought somehow made him feel hollow inside. What should he do? Praise them for being talented? Was that something to be glad for?
He glanced down at Little Jiao. She was happily chatting with Fatty Lou, her back to the Minor Measurement Tool. The other three who had below fifty spiritual roots lingered around them, eyes on their feet. They seemed ashamed that they didn’t have any talent.
I have to do something about this.
Lei shook his head. He’d been trying to become someone they could count on, but time and time again, he found himself staring into a blank wall, hesitant. The part of him that belonged to Earth didn’t always have the right answers. The other part of him that lived here, as a different man, was no different than these children. He knew so little that he couldn’t even dare to think about a future.
“You can let go,” came the old man’s voice, rasping. He turned toward Lei and sighed, “Sixteen spiritual roots. This one doesn’t have a bright future.”
Lei felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. He waited, but Little Ji refused to step back, still holding onto those spheres. Lei glanced upward, scowling at the lights, muttering to himself.
Burn. Glow. Do something.
The kid didn’t let go. Lei had to drag him away from the machine. He pulled him closer and held him by the right shoulder. They thanked the old man and filed out of the hall. Little Meng sang cheerily up at the front, hopping like a bunny. Little Jiao was grinning wide as Fatty Lou poked her playfully. The others were in a line under the strict gaze of Zhu Luli.
“How do you feel?” Lei asked, Little Ji tightening under his hand. “You can talk to me.”
Little Ji stared up at him, jaw set tight. “Nothing’s changed, Big Brother Lei. I will become a cultivator. I will become someone strong.”
Lei clapped him on the back, smiling. “You will, Little Ji. I’ll make sure of it.”
……..