The morning sun rose lazily over the peaks of the Ethereal Dao Sect, casting golden light across the clouds as spirit cranes cried in the distance.
In the Sect Master's courtyard, steam rose gently from a jade pool. Chen Chao and Feng Yumo sat within, their lean young bodies soaking in the fragrant herbal water while maids quietly washed their backs. The boys, nearing twelve, didn't speak much—they didn't need to. Their minds were already on the day ahead.
After the bath, the maids dried them off and dressed them in freshly prepared ceremonial robes. Crimson silk with silver trim, the Ethereal Dao Sect's insignia embroidered over the chest. Chen Chao's personal maid, Xuelan, was already waiting outside. With a calm expression, she activated a jade talisman. In a blink, a lotus-shaped flying treasure rose beneath them, lifting the trio smoothly into the sky.
Their destination: Starshroud Peak.
Starshroud Peak was one of the highest mountains within the sect's territory. Normally sealed off, it was only opened for major rites and ceremonies. Today was one such day.
By the time Chen Chao and Feng Yumo arrived, the mountaintop was already crowded. Rows of youths dressed in ceremonial robes stood on circular stone platforms carved into the mountain itself. There had to be over two hundred of them, mostly ranging from twelve to fifteen.
Most were descendants of the three ruling clans—Chen, Feng, and Yun. Their bloodlines were obvious.
The Chen Clan's youths had white hair and violet eyes, each one holding their chin a little higher than the last.
The Feng kids all had black hair and black eyes, quiet but proud.
And the Yun Clan? Crimson hair and red eyes, their group felt more like a fire burning at the edge of the crowd.
Scattered among them were a couple dozen others—descendants of the core sectarian elders. Just as proud and arrogant as the youths from the three clans.
In the midst of it all, one figure stood out.
Surrounded by the sectarian descendants like stars around a moon was a sharp-eyed youth with an arrogant smirk. His features were refined, his bearing proud. That was the grandson of the Supreme Elder—and he looked like he already owned the mountain.
Unseen by the kids, high above in the clouds, a dozen powerful auras hovered silently.
Dao Realm beings—the true pillars of the sect.
Among them were the three clan heads, including the Sect Master himself, Chen Daoxuan, with his long white hair and calm, unreadable eyes. Standing beside him was Feng Shengtian, the Feng Clan head, with slick black hair and eyes like still water.
And then there was Yun Daorong, the Yun Clan patriarch.
Massive, red-haired, and built like a war beast, Yun Daorong looked down at the crowd below with a grin full of teeth. His eyes paused on Chen Chao and Feng Yumo.
"Heh, Daoxuan," Yun Daorong said with a lazy grin, "I heard your little brat's been training real hard lately. And with Shengtian's boy no less. What's the matter? You both know they got trash constitutions or something?"
Chen Daoxuan said nothing. His expression didn't change.
Feng Shengtian simply smirked, arms crossed, saying even less.
"Tch. No fun," Yun Daorong muttered. "Whatever. I'm tellin' you now—my daughter, Yun Qingyue, she's gonna blow all your brats out of the water."
He glanced at the silent Supreme Elder Xuan Taiji, an old man floating quietly in the sky, eyes half-lidded, beard flowing like mist. Even among Dao Realm experts, his presence felt untouchable.
Daorong turned toward him with a grin. "Old Xuan, I heard your grandson's the real deal too. Wanna place a bet? Whose kid's got a better constitution?"
The Supreme Elder gave a faint smile but didn't bother responding.
The other elders wisely kept quiet. Everyone knew Yun Daorong had a gambling problem—and even worse, he never paid up. Not unless you beat it out of him.
Down below, the ceremony had begun.
A large crystalline stone stood at the center of the platform. One by one, the youths were called forward to test their Origin Roots.
The results weren't too surprising. Most kids from Dao-being bloodlines had Heaven Origin Roots—a radiant golden light flaring when they placed their hands on the stone. Each of them would be heaven defying geniuses when placed in lesser worlds, but they are just talented enough in greater worlds, especially one as powerful as the Yiluan greater world.
A few distant descendants had only Spirit Roots, drawing subtle frowns from elders watching nearby.
After nearly two hours, the crowd had thinned. Only nine youths remained.
Six of them were grandchildren of Dao Realm cultivators.
Three were actual children of Dao beings.
The crowd quieted. These were the ones everyone wanted to see.
First up: a cocky black-haired youth from the Feng Clan. One of the core elder's grandsons.
He stepped up with his nose in the air and slapped his palm on the stone.
Whoosh! A brilliant violet light burst from the crystal, drawing cheers and nods of approval.
"Mythic Root," someone whispered.
Next came a Chen Clan youth—white hair, violet eyes. Calm and composed. Another Mythic Root.
Then the Supreme Elder's grandson strode up like he owned the peak. With a smirk, he placed his palm on the crystal—and the light that exploded out of it was even brighter than the ones before. Violet so intense it almost seemed tangible.
"Oof," one elder muttered under his breath. "That's a good one."
One by one, the remaining grandchildren went. All had Mythic Roots, though none quite as bright as the supreme elder's grandson's.
Then came the first of the true Dao-borns.
Yun Qingyue stepped up, her red hair catching the wind, her crimson eyes cold and focused.
Her hand touched the stone.
Boom.
That light? Easily as bright as the Supreme Elder's grandson's. The crowd sucked in a breath. Yun Daorong, high above, puffed out his chest proudly.
"Called it," he said to no one in particular.
Next, Feng Yumo turned to Chen Chao, gave a short nod, and walked forward.
Without hesitation, he placed his palm on the stone.
Fwoosh!
A brilliant, blinding violet burst from the crystal. Just as bright as Yun Qingyue's and the Supreme Elder's grandson.
The crowd gasped again. Some of the Feng elders exchanged surprised looks.
Feng Shengtian simply narrowed his eyes and chuckled.
Then all eyes turned to the last youth.
Chen Chao.
He stepped forward, white hair dancing in the wind, violet eyes calm but sharp. He didn't say a word.
The mountain peak had gone silent. Even the birds stopped chirping.
Chen Chao raised his hand.
Placed it on the crystal.
And then—