Xue Ying stepped down from the stage in silence, ignoring the stares and whispers. She returned to the line and stood quietly, waiting for the next child to be called.

  “I guess it’s my turn, Shen. Good luck,” Lan Yue said softly, offering him a smile before heading toward the stage.

  “Good luck, my daughter,” Chief Lan said, patting her head. She giggled.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Lan Yue approached the Spirit Root Orb and placed her hand on it. What followed shocked even those already numb from the previous displays. The orb began to glow with two colors—a deep blue and a vivid red. They surged and swirled, clashing at first, then gradually blending into a beautiful violet hue in the center.

  “She has dual elements!”

  “Is that even possible?”

  Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd. This had never happened before—not in their village, perhaps not even in their region.

  Shen smiled. He was genuinely happy for her.

  Wang Lin, meanwhile, stared blankly. His pride had been thoroughly crushed—three times in a row.

  Xue Ying observed without emotion, her thoughts unreadable.

  Guo Bao wasn’t even looking. He was too focused on the rice cake an auntie had snuck into his robes earlier. He’d been waiting all morning to eat it and was now enjoying every bite.

  As the orb’s colors calmed, the stars began to shine: 1… 6… 7… 8.

  Eight stars.

  Lan Yue turned her head toward Xue Ying, hoping to gauge her reaction—but the icy girl offered none. Instead, she caught Shen giving her a proud thumbs-up. Her confidence returned.

  She stepped toward the bird cage, pricked her finger, and let a drop of blood fall into the bird’s mouth.

  “Crawwww… Crawwwww… Mystic Bloodline… Crawwww…”

  Grinning from ear to ear, she ran up to her father and hugged him tightly.

  Caught off guard, Chief Lan chuckled and patted her back. “Good job, Yan’er. One test left.”

  Lan Yue hopped off and sat gracefully in the formation circle. Chief Lan activated the array, watching the talisman in his hand. As expected, words appeared.

  He let out a long sigh—whether from relief or sheer disbelief, even he couldn’t tell.

  “Blazing Ember Physique.”

  Lan Yue jumped up in joy and ran back to her father, who this time returned the hug with both arms. The audience clapped as the father-daughter moment unfolded on stage.

  Minutes later, Lan Yue rejoined the others, still glowing with pride.

  Chief Lan looked up at the final child waiting in line.

  His eyes met Shen’s.

  Without a word, Shen stepped forward and made his way toward the stage. The crowd fell uncharacteristically silent. Even the air felt heavy.

  Whispers started, barely above a breath:

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  “Finally… we’ll see what he has.”

  “He’s gotta have something, right?”

  Shen took a deep breath and placed his hand on the orb.

  The orb flickered—then spun through all the elements rapidly, without settling. The colors shifted erratically. The stars lit up randomly, surging from 1 to 10, then back down, then up again.

  Gasps turned to confusion. Everyone stared at the chaotic light display, unsure of what they were witnessing.

  Eventually, Shen pulled his hand away and looked toward Chief Lan.

  The Chief swallowed. ‘ What the hell am I supposed to say? I don’t know what that was.’

  He took a breath and forced a smile.

  “Don’t worry, Shen. I believe the orb is malfunctioning. After so many powerful tests today, it may have exhausted its energy. Let’s move on to the blood test and formation, alright?”

  Shen nodded quietly and walked over to the bird.

  He pricked his finger and dropped his blood into its mouth.

  Everyone held their breath.

  “…Crawwww… Crawwww… No bloodline detected… Crawwww…”

  The air shifted.

  It was like mourning fell over the crowd.

  People looked away, faces tight with discomfort. The disappointment was painful, but what confused many was the weight of the moment. This wasn’t just lackluster results. This felt… wrong.

  Lan Yue stared in disbelief. Her chest tightened as Shen lowered his head.

  “He doesn’t deserve this,” she whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek.

  Even Xue Ying sighed, her gaze softening. She understood what it meant to grow up with questions and no answers.

  Guo Bao paused mid-bite, watching the silence. “Why… does it feel like they’re more shocked about Shen than anyone else?”

  The other children glanced around, noticing it too. The crowd’s reaction was deeper than mere surprise.

  “There’s something we’re not being told,” Wang Lin muttered.

  “I wholeheartedly agree with you, bowl-boy,” Guo Bao said, stuffing another rice cake into his mouth.

  “Shut up, fatty. Just keep eating,” Wang Lin growled.

  Back on the stage, Shen stood frozen, his thoughts spiraling.

  His chest tightened, his fists clenched.

  Then, a hand rested on his shoulder.

  He turned—Chief Lan stood beside him.

  “Try not to worry, boy,” the Chief said gently. “Maybe Granny Mei will be able to explain more. Finish this last test, and I’ll take you to her personally.”

  Shen swallowed hard and nodded.

  He walked to the formation circle and sat.

  Chief Lan activated the talisman.

  Nothing happened.

  No glow. No light. No words.

  Shen had no physique. No root, no bloodline, no gift.

  Just… nothing.

  He didn’t move right away. He stood in the center of the formation as if his legs refused to believe the results. The talisman in Chief Lan’s hand was blank—silent. Condemning.

  Eventually, he turned, his steps heavy. He walked off the stage—past the crowd, past the vendors, past everything.

  And the village watched.

  No one spoke. No one reached out.

  At the center of the stage, Chief Lan remained frozen, holding the talisman tightly. He opened his mouth to resume the ceremony, but paused. He looked out over his people, saw their stillness, their confusion. No one was ready to cheer. No one was ready to celebrate.

  “…Let us… take a short break,” he finally said, voice low.

  The drums didn’t resume. The banners didn’t fly. The crowd quietly dispersed in small groups, murmuring in hushed tones.

  Shen walked alone.

  By the time Shen reached his hut, the tears had already started.

  He opened the door, stepped inside, and let it close behind him with a soft thud. The stone walls of the tiny home that once gave him shelter now felt like a cage.

  He collapsed onto his wooden-framed bed, face buried in the straw mattress. The pain surged out like a dam breaking—years of questions, loneliness, hope, crushed in a single moment.

  He didn’t know how long he lay there. Minutes. Hours.

  As the sun began to set, golden light cut through the hut window. Somewhere in the distance, a firecracker cracked—but it felt like it came from another world.

  He curled in on himself.

  Just then, a knock came at the door.

  “…Who is it?” he called hoarsely.

  “It’s me, Shen. I’m here with my father,” came Lan Yue’s voice, gentle.

  He wiped his face, dragged himself to his feet, and opened the door. Outside stood Lan Yue, her expression full of concern, and a few steps behind her, Chief Lan, his back respectfully turned.

  “My father thought you needed some time,” Lan Yue said softly. “But… Granny Mei asked for you.”

  She took his arm carefully. “She said… she might have answers. About your parents.”

  Shen froze.

  Everything in him went still.

  My parents…?

  If she’d said Granny Mei had answers about his roots or why he had no gifts, he would’ve refused. But this? This was the reason he endured everything. The one question he’d carried in his heart since the day he could remember.

  Without a word, Shen followed.

  The village behind them sparkled faintly, but in Shen’s world, it all faded.

  Only one thing remained now—the truth.