The world of cultivation was a cruel one, a truth Wei Jin knew in the very marrow of his bones. It was a world that sorted the worthy from the worthless at the tender age of six, during the Awakening Ceremony. On that day, the nature of one’s spiritual root was revealed, a foundation gifted by the heavens that would dictate the entire course of one’s life. Most hoped for roots like the Tiger, the Ox, or the Eagle—beasts of strength and ferocity that promised a smooth path in harnessing the world’s spiritual energy, its Qi.
Wei Jin had awakened the Serpent Root.
In the hierarchy of spiritual power, the Serpent was considered bottom-tier trash. It was a symbol of cunning, yes, but also of weakness, of being earthbound and fragile. A cultivator with a Serpent Root absorbed Qi at a snail’s pace, and their spiritual energy was considered murky and impure. At seventeen, after eleven years of tireless effort, Wei Jin had only reached the third stage of Qi Condensation. Most of his peers, those with even mediocre roots, had long since broken through to the fifth or sixth stage.
The epicenter of his daily humiliation was the Verdant Creek Town’s training grounds, a dusty expanse of packed earth where the younger generation of the Wei clan practiced their martial arts and cultivation techniques. And the primary source of that humiliation was Lie Shan.
“Look, the worm is trying to absorb dew again,” Lie Shan’s jeering voice cut through the morning air. He stood with a coterie of other young clan members, his arms crossed over his chest. Lie Shan, blessed with the Golden Lion Root, was the clan’s prodigy. At the eighth stage of Qi Condensation, he was a shining star, and he never missed an opportunity to use Wei Jin’s shadow to make himself seem brighter.
Wei Jin ignored him, his eyes shut tight, focusing on the faint wisps of morning Qi that permeated the air. He visualized them as tiny streams of light, trying to guide them into his body through the acupuncture points, to have them circulate through his meridians and collect in his Dantian, the core of his spiritual energy. But it was like trying to fill a lake with a leaky cup. The energy would enter, but much of it would dissipate, his Serpent Root seemingly unable to bind it effectively. A full hour of meditation would yield him what Lie Shan could probably achieve in minutes.
Ptooey. A glob of spit landed on the ground right beside him, breaking his concentration. Wei Jin’s eyes snapped open.
“Still playing deaf, serpent?” Lie Shan sneered, a cruel smirk on his handsome face. “The Celestial Sword Sect is holding its regional entrance examination in three months. They’re looking for lions and tigers, not garden snakes. Why do you even bother coming here? You’re a disgrace to the Wei name.”
Wei Jin’s hands clenched into fists in his lap, his knuckles white. He stood up, dusting off his simple grey robes. He wasn’t a fighter; he knew he stood no chance against Lie Shan, whose Qi was so much denser and more powerful. A single strike from Lie Shan’s ‘Golden Lion Fist’ would likely shatter his bones. But he would not cower.
“My cultivation is my own business, Lie Shan,” Wei Jin said, his voice steady despite the tremor of anger within him.
Lie Shan laughed, a harsh, barking sound. “Your ‘cultivation’ is a joke. You are a waste of the clan’s resources. A waste of air.” He took a menacing step forward, his own spiritual energy flaring around him, a faint golden aura that pressed down on Wei Jin, making it hard to breathe. “Maybe I should teach you your place again.”
Before he could, the stern voice of an elder echoed across the grounds. “Enough, Lie Shan! Do you have nothing better to do than bully your own clansmen?”
Lie Shan clicked his tongue in annoyance but backed off, shooting Wei Jin a final look of utter contempt. “Next time, the elders won’t be here to save you, trash.”
Wei Jin exhaled slowly, the pressure lifting. He didn’t stay to endure the pitying or scornful looks from the others. He gave the elder a respectful nod and left the training grounds, his heart a heavy stone in his chest. He walked away from the clan compound, heading towards the cool, rushing waters of the Azure Serpent River that gave their town its name. It was the only place he found solace.
He sat on a large, sun-warmed boulder by the riverbank, staring into the clear, fast-moving water. Was Lie Shan right? Was he just a waste of space? He had tried so hard, for so long, enduring the scorn, the whispers, the disappointment in his own parents’ eyes. Yet, his progress was infinitesimal. Perhaps it truly was time to give up. The thought brought a bitter, acidic taste to his mouth. No. He couldn’t. The desire to become strong, to stand tall and look down on those who mocked him, was a fire that even his pathetic Serpent Root could not extinguish.
As his frustration mounted, he slammed his fist against the boulder, the sharp pain a welcome distraction. The impact, however, dislodged a section of his skin, and a few drops of blood dripped from his scraped knuckles, falling into the mossy crevice of the rock and then trickling into the water below.
He watched the red droplets disperse in the current. But then, something strange happened. In the riverbed, directly where his blood had drifted, a soft, azure light pulsed. It was faint, almost imperceptible in the daylight. Curious, Wei Jin leaned closer. Lying amongst the smooth, grey stones of the river was a single, perfectly round, pitch-black stone. It was no bigger than a goose egg and seemed to absorb the light around it. And it was this stone that was now emitting that gentle, blue glow.
Driven by an instinct he didn’t understand, he waded into the cool water, his eyes fixed on the object. He reached down and picked it up. The moment his fingers closed around it, the stone felt strangely warm, almost alive. As he lifted it from the water, the scraped knuckle on his hand brushed against its surface.
A jolt, fierce and electric, shot up his arm. It was not a painful sensation, but one of profound, overwhelming energy. The black stone flared with an intense azure light, so bright it forced him to shut his eyes. He felt the stone dissolving in his hand, not like melting ice, but like a phantom passing through his skin. It flowed into his bloodstream, a torrent of information and energy flooding his mind and body.
He cried out, falling back into the river with a splash. His vision swam with images of colossal dragons soaring through seas of stars, of cosmic battles that shattered moons, and of a voice, ancient and powerful, that echoed a single phrase: “The blood of the serpent awakens the soul of the dragon.”
Then, deep within his Dantian, his stagnant, pathetic Serpent Root began to tremble. It coiled and writhed, not in weakness, but in a violent, ecstatic transformation. The murky Qi it held was being refined, compressed, and purified by this new, overwhelming energy. The Serpent was shedding its skin, and underneath, something vast, ancient, and terrifyingly powerful was beginning to stir.