The sun hung high over the Hall of Potential, a blinding white disk that seemed to judge the mortals below. It cast long, sharp shadows across the White Jade Plaza, a vast expanse of stone that had witnessed the rise of legends and the crushing of dreams for five hundred years.
The air was thick, suffocatingly so. It smelled of ozone from the protective arrays and the sour, metallic tang of nervous sweat radiating from the sea of fifteen-year-olds.
Deacon Lin Quan stood on the raised podium, his silhouette framed by the harsh light. His robes flapped violently, not from the wind, but from the sheer pressure of his own aura pushing against the atmosphere. He was a man of the Internal Affairs Hall, known for a tongue sharper than a razor and a gaze that felt like it was peeling back skin to inspect the quality of the bones beneath.
He scanned the crowd. Hundreds of hopeful faces looked up at him—some arrogant, some trembling, some already defeated.
"Listen well!" Lin Quan's voice boomed. It was amplified by his Qi, hitting their chests like a physical drumbeat, instantly drowning out the murmurs. "Most of you know why you are here. Your parents have drilled it into your heads since you learned to walk. But looking at some of your dull, bovine expressions..."
He paused, his eyes sliding dismissively over the back row, lingering for a fraction of a second on Lin Kai's worn grey robes.
"...I see that I must explain it again for the slow-witted among us."
Lin Quan stepped down from the podium, pacing like a tiger inspecting a herd of deer.
"We humans are frail," he declared, holding up his hand and clenching it slowly. "Unlike the Dragon-Elephants of the West, we are not born with skin like iron. Unlike the Celestials, we are not born of pure energy. We are flesh and blood. Soft. Breakable. A single spirit beast can tear us apart like wet paper."
He punched the air. A sonic boom detonated, sending a shockwave that ruffled the hair of the front row.
"But we possess Potential. To unlock this potential, we need tools. These tools are Scriptures for the inside, and Arts for the outside."
He spun around, pointing a finger at the two massive monuments behind him.
To the left, the Crystal Prism—a towering obelisk of translucent quartz. To the right, the Bronze Bell—an ancient artifact covered in moss and runes.
"At age eight, we tested your blood. That determined your raw capacity. Today, at age fifteen, we test the direction of your path. Your Affinity determines which element you command. Your Constitution determines how much power your body can hold before it shatters."
A hush fell over the crowd. The wind seemed to stop.
"The Lin Clan," Lin Quan continued, his voice swelling with arrogance, "possesses the Violet Yang Qilin Scripture. It is a Holy Grade method. It requires a Fire or Yang Affinity of at least Mid-Grade, and a body strong enough to withstand boiling blood. If you pass today, you gain access to the Clan's treasury. You choose your future. If you fail..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He let the silence hang like a guillotine. Failure meant being stripped of status. It meant a life of mediocrity in the outer branches, running shops, guarding caravans, or cleaning the stables of those who succeeded.
"Let us begin. When I call your name, place your hand on the Prism, then strike the Bell with your full strength."
"First candidate: Lin Mei!"
A girl with flushed cheeks stepped forward. She looked like she might faint. She approached the monuments, her hands shaking as she placed one on the Prism.
Hummm.
A soft, warm light bloomed from the center of the crystal. It turned a vibrant, steady shade of crimson, like a dying ember.
"Fire Attribute. Mid Grade," Deacon Lin Quan nodded, scribbling on his scroll. "Acceptable. Now, the Bell."
Lin Mei took a deep breath, channeled her Qi, and struck the bronze surface.
Gong... Gong... Gong!
Three clear, resonant rings echoed through the plaza.
"Three rings," Lin Quan announced. "A Sky Grade Body. Good. Your foundation is solid. You may enter the Inner Sect."
Lin Mei let out a sob of relief, bowing deeply as scattered applause broke out. She had survived. She wouldn't be a core genius, but she would be respected.
"Next! Lin Hao!"
A boy stepped up, puffing his chest out. He slapped the Prism.
Flash.
The Prism turned a sickly, pale yellow.
"Earth Attribute. Low Grade," Lin Quan boredly stated. "The Bell."
Lin Hao panicked. He struck the bell with everything he had.
Gong.
One weak, jarring ring.
"Mortal Body," Lin Quan sneered. "Worthless. Next."
The boy's face crumbled. Guards immediately stepped forward to usher him to the 'failure' line. Dreams were made and shattered in the span of seconds.
The line moved steadily. Some disciples revealed surprising talents—a boy with a High-Grade Wind Affinity caused a stir, sending a breeze through the plaza. Another girl revealed a Wood Affinity, immediately marking her as a potential disciple for the Medicine Hall elders watching from the shadows.
Lin Kai watched it all with a stoic expression, though his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.
'Please,' he thought, his palms sweating. 'I don't need to be a Holy genius. Just give me something I can use. A Low-Grade Fire affinity? Even a Water affinity? Just don't let the crystal stay empty.'
He glanced at the Bronze Bell. He knew his body was weak. He felt it every day—the heaviness, the lack of explosive power. But the Affinity... that was a matter of the Soul. As a reincarnator, surely his soul had to be special? Surely the universe hadn't brought him here just to be a spectator?
"Next..." Deacon Lin Quan's eyes narrowed as he read the list. A cruel smirk tugged at his lips. "Lin Kai."
The applause died instantly.
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating. It wasn't the respectful silence of anticipation; it was the awkward, painful silence of watching a cripple try to run a marathon.