Fang Zheng staggered out of the river, his face pale as frost.
The icy water clung to his legs, but the chill in his heart was far deeper. His fists were clenched tight, his teeth grinding as he forced himself to walk toward his brother.
"How… could this be?" he muttered under his breath. The question trembled in his throat, unanswered.
After a long moment, he lowered his gaze — perhaps this is my fate.
When he reached Fang Yuan, he stopped and bowed his head slightly.
"Brother, I'm sorry… I have no talent. I can't become a Gu Master like you."
Fang Yuan looked at him. His expression softened, a sigh escaping his lips.
He placed a hand on Fang Zheng's head, his voice gentle, full of brotherly warmth.
"Don't be so downhearted," he said softly.
"Didn't I tell you before? I have plans for you."
His tone was warm, his smile faint, like the glow of a lamp in a storm.
"So what if you can't become a Gu Master? Don't you still have me — your brother?"
Fang Zheng blinked, surprised by the reassurance. He nodded slowly, a fragile comfort blooming in his heart.
He turned his eyes toward the river, watching as the other youths attempted the same trial. One after another, they faltered. More than half failed to awaken any talent at all.
Seeing this, the bitterness in his chest eased.
'Yes… I'm not the only one,' he thought.
'Even without talent, life goes on. There's no shame in it.'
A faint smile returned to his face, small but sincere.
Beside him, Fang Yuan stood quietly, eyes unreadable. His hand fell away from Fang Zheng's head. He looked down at his younger brother — at that naive relief, that momentary peace.
In his eyes, a glimmer of amusement flickered — cold and brief, like moonlight on a blade's edge as his gaze settled on Fang Zheng's chest for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
...
As the Awakening Ceremony drew to an end, the children dispersed in scattered groups.
Some returned with laughter on their lips, their eyes shining with the light of newfound destiny. Others trudged home in silence, faces pale, hearts heavy with despair.
Joy and sorrow — two sides of the same path. Such was the way of cultivation.
Among them, Fang Yuan and Fang Zheng walked side by side. Their footsteps were steady, their figures slowly fading into the twilight.
When they reached home, Jiaying was already waiting by the doorway. Her eyes were filled with anticipation, hands clasped tightly before her chest.
The moment the two brothers stepped inside, she hurried forward.
"How did it go?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly — a mixture of hope and fear.
Fang Yuan smiled faintly. His tone was calm, gentle, unhurried.
"It went well," he said.
"I awakened with a C-grade talent."
Jiaying's eyes brightened instantly. Her face bloomed with relief and pride.
"Good, good!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering with emotion.
But as her gaze shifted to Fang Zheng, her joy faltered.
She saw his lowered head, his pale face, and the stillness in his eyes. Her heart sank.
"Could it be…" she murmured, not daring to finish the thought.
Fang Yuan met her gaze and answered before she could ask again. His voice was steady — neither cold nor warm, simply matter-of-fact.
"Fang Zheng has no aptitude to become a Gu Master."
The words fell into the room like drops of water into stillness — quiet, yet echoing endlessly.
Jiaying froze, her breath catching.
Behind her, Fang Zheng stood silently, his fists clenched, lips trembling.
Then —Jiaying let out a soft sigh, the light in her eyes dimming slightly.
"Zheng'er, it's alright," she said gently.
"Not everyone is born with the talent to walk the path of a Gu Master. This too is fate."
Her voice carried the weary kindness of a mother who had already accepted the limits of the world.
Fang Yuan stood beside her, his expression calm.
"From tomorrow onward," he said evenly, "you'll handle the rent collection for the three bamboo buildings."
Jiaying nodded, seizing upon his words.
"Yes, Zheng'er. You're not a child anymore. It's time you took on responsibility."
She hesitated, then smiled faintly.
"When the time comes, I'll find you a good woman to marry."
"A stable life — that's worth more than empty dreams."
Fang Zheng lowered his head, biting his lip. The dull ache of disappointment still lingered, but her words offered a fragile comfort.
Then Fang Yuan spoke again, his tone soft — "Don't be disheartened," he said.
"I once heard from a caravan leader… that in this vast world, there exist Gu worms capable of granting talent to mortals — letting even those without aptitude step onto the path of cultivation."
Fang Zheng's eyes widened, a spark of hope flickering back to life.
"Really? Such Gu worms truly exist?"
Fang Yuan smiled — "Of course they do," he replied.
"But…" He paused, his eyes narrowing subtly. "If that day comes, you must remember — whatever I tell you to do, you must obey without question."
"Understand?"
Fang Zheng nodded earnestly, his eyes shining with trust and obedience.
From the side, Jiaying watched her two sons quietly.
She could tell that Fang Yuan's words were meant to comfort his younger brother — a gentle lie wrapped in hope.
But she also knew the truth.
There were no such Gu worms in this world.
If there were, would the countless mortals of the Gu Yue clan still remain ordinary?
Wouldn't the clan have long turned every man, woman, and child into Gu Masters?
Still, Jiaying didn't expose him. She simply sighed inwardly.
Fang Zheng was still young — let him hold on to his illusions a little longer. The world would teach him the truth in due time.
After a while, the heaviness in the room eased. The three of them spoke softly of other things, then went to share a meal together.
The lunch had been prepared in advance — fragrant dishes and warm wine laid out under Jiaying's instructions. The maids moved silently, their footsteps echoing faintly against the bamboo floor.
Fang Yuan, Jiaying, and Fang Zheng sat together, the atmosphere peaceful and domestic.
They ate in silence for a time, the clinking of chopsticks mingling with the hum of cicadas outside.
When the last bowl was emptied, Fang Yuan put down his chopsticks and spoke casually, his tone smooth as water.
"Mother, how is the tavern business lately?"
Jiaying smiled, wiping her hands with a cloth.
"It's going well," she said. "Now that you've become a Gu Master, focus on your cultivation. Leave the business matters to me."
Fang Yuan shook his head lightly. His smile was polite, but his eyes were distant.
"It's fine. I was only asking because…" — he paused — "I haven't received the tavern's profits for the past two months."
"Oh, those!" Jiaying's eyes widened slightly in realization.
"I told the maids to send them to your room this morning," she said quickly.
"Along with a gift from me — you'll find it there as well."
Fang Yuan nodded. "I understand."
He rose from his seat, his movements calm and deliberate.
As he turned to leave the dining hall, sunlight spilled through the window, catching his figure in a faint glow.
To an outsider, it was a simple family scene — a mother, two sons, a quiet meal.
But beneath that warmth, Fang Yuan's eyes flickered faintly as he stepped out of the dining hall.
...
Once Fang Yuan entered his room, he closed the door behind him with a soft click. The sound echoed faintly through the still air.
His eyes swept across his room which is neat and orderly.
On the bed lay a small pouch, and near the wardrobe stood two lacquered boxes filled with faintly glowing primeval stones.
A thin smile tugged at his lips.
"So, this is the gift," he murmured, walking toward the bed.
He picked up the pouch, feeling its texture between his fingers. His eyes glinted faintly.
"A storage bag… no, a Stone Bag Gu."
It looked simple enough — smaller than the one he currently used.
Fang Yuan's expression remained calm as he tucked the new Stone Bag Gu into his robes. Then, turning toward his wardrobe, he opened it slowly.
Inside, three similar pouches rested in a neat row — each one a Stone Bag Gu he had long possessed and used with care.
Without hesitation, he placed the fourth pouch beside them and closed the wardrobe doors.
The faint creak of wood echoed softly, blending with the whisper of the evening breeze slipping through the window.
Fang Yuan stood still for a moment, his eyes calm, as he murmured, "Hope is a tool."
"And the sharper it is… the deeper it cuts."