Green Lotus Town stood on the edge of a forest, larger and livelier than Willow Brook by many orders of magnitude. Stone roads crisscrossed between multistory buildings, markets bustled with vendors hawking spirit herbs and enchanted trinkets, and cultivators in sect robes strolled the streets with pride. To Xiao Xuan, it felt like walking into a realm of giants. Here, everyone had power — or at least the potential for it.
His first stop was the town's bulletin board, where a large scroll displayed the Wind Lightning Sect's recruitment notice. It listed rules: no criminal background, test of bone age, spiritual root, and cultivation base. Xiao Xuan gulped. He had none of those. But he wasn't turning back.
The recruitment square was already teeming. Dozens of hopefuls lined up before a group of imposing elders seated under a tent. Each wore robes embroidered with thunderclouds. Disciples moved about briskly, checking documents and directing candidates.
Xiao Xuan joined the queue, trying to suppress his anxiety. He scanned others in line — most were in their early teens, some looked barely ten. All radiated some level of spiritual aura. None had the awkward stiffness of someone out of place. Like him.
When his turn came, a disciple stepped forward. "Name?"
"Xiao Xuan," he replied, voice steady.
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
The disciple raised a brow, then motioned him forward. "Place your hand on the jade crystal."
He obeyed. The crystal glowed briefly.
"Bone age: eighteen," the disciple said, lips curling slightly. "Late."
He gestured to a circular platform. "Spiritual root test."
Xiao Xuan stepped on. The array pulsed once… then faded. Murmurs began.
"Zero reaction," an elder said with distaste. "No root."
Laughter erupted behind him.
"No root at eighteen? What a joke."
"Is he here to clean the floors?"
Before he could respond, an elder stood. Golden Core pressure slammed into the plaza. Xiao Xuan buckled, gasping.
"You dare waste our time?" the elder thundered. "Leave before I erase your presence from this world."
Xiao Xuan bowed deeply and staggered away. Heat burned in his chest — not from shame, but fury. They didn't even give him a chance.
He wandered the streets, head low. As the sun reached its peak, the brightness only seemed to sharpen the contrast between him and everyone else. Children played with wooden swords imbued with faint energy. Merchants displayed pills and talismans that glowed. Outer disciples boasted about their test scores and handed out recruitment flyers to impressed townspeople.
He sat down at the edge of a plaza, eyes vacant. A street performer was conjuring firebirds from his sleeves. A few coins jingled into the man's bowl. Xiao Xuan watched, unmoving.
Eventually, he pulled himself up and walked into a cultivation supplies shop — one of the simpler ones, its shelves lined with bottles of pills, scrolls, and dusty manuals.
"Excuse me," he said. "Do you sell beginner cultivation manuals?"
The shopkeeper gave him a quick scan — tattered robes, no spiritual pressure, poor posture.
"Do you have coin?"
"No, but—"
"Then you don't have business here."
Xiao Xuan left without another word.
The next store was the same. The third didn't even let him in.
By late afternoon, he was exhausted. He sat by a quiet alley, hands dirty, clothes wrinkled, stomach rumbling. The scent of roasted spirit beast meat from a street vendor mocked his hunger. A group of cultivators walked by, laughing as one bragged about hitting Core Formation at sixteen.
He clenched his jaw.
When dusk settled, he found an old inn in the lower part of the town. The owner barely looked up. One night. No food. No questions.
The room was dark and dusty. The bed creaked under his weight. He lay staring at the ceiling, unmoving.
"So this is the world of cultivation," he whispered. "Power speaks. The weak are trampled."
His fists clenched.
"But I won't be trampled forever. They humiliated me today, but I'll build a clan they'll beg to enter. I'll create a place where no child ever gets mocked for starting late."
He rolled over, eyes open in the darkness.
Let them mock him. Let them ignore him. He had one thing they didn't — time.
And he would use every second of it.