Chapter 12 ( aptitude test )

  The crowd outside the Ember Coliseum was a storm of voices and movement, but the registration lines were surprisingly efficient—likely due to the no-nonsense cultivators overseeing them.

  Adam, with Xiaoyan and Xiaomei close behind, stepped into one of the long queues leading up to a stone platform. A formation circle shimmered beneath their feet as they approached, scanning for malicious intent and fake identities.

  At the front, an older man with deep eye bags and a spirit-ink brush sat behind a jade registration tablet. He looked up as Adam approached, eyeing his sword arm with brief surprise before shifting to a more skeptical glance at Adam’s face.

  “You here to register for the aptitude test?” the man asked, voice dry like old parchment.

  Adam nodded. “For me and them.” He gestured to Xiaoyan and Xiaomei.

  The registrar squinted. “You look a little… seasoned, boy. Aren’t you a bit too old for this?”

  Adam gave a faint, almost sheepish smile. “Some… circumstances delayed my path.”

  The man stared at him a moment longer before grumbling, “Tch. Whatever. You wouldn’t be the first late bloomer to show up with a story.” He picked up his brush and began inscribing their names with swift, precise strokes onto the jade slab.

  “Name?”

  “Adam.”

  The brush paused slightly, then moved on.

  “Lan Xiaoyan. Lan Xiaomei. Done.”

  He slid the slate into a groove, and a gentle hum confirmed the registration. Then he leaned back, tired eyes sweeping over them one last time.

  “Well, good luck, then. May some sect take you in… and may it not be the one that chews you up first.”

  Stepping through the towering arched gate of the Ember Coliseum, Adam was immediately struck by the sheer scale of the place. Thousands of stone seats rose around a central platform like the jaws of a beast waiting to judge those within. A massive stone stele stood proudly at the heart of the arena, runes pulsing faintly along its surface.

  This was where destinies were measured.

  Spectators packed the coliseum stands, some leaning forward in excitement, others lounging casually as if they’d seen a thousand such events. Laughter, murmurs, and gasps rippled like waves across the crowd with each test.

  Some came to scout for disciples. Others came to be entertained. And a few… Adam could feel it in the air… came for reasons far less pure.

  High above the chaos, platforms floated in midair—luxurious, ornate, and reserved for the elite. Peak masters of the Grand harmony sects, their sub-sects, and allied clans sat beneath banners that fluttered in spiritual wind, eyes sharp as blades as they watched each new candidate step forward.

  Adam’s gaze lingered on the stone stele, where another youth placed his hand upon it—and coloured light exploded upward in a brilliant display, earning a ripple of impressed murmurs.

  “Guess that’s the bar,” Adam muttered under his breath, glancing to his side where Xiaoyan was craning his neck, eyes wide.

  “This is insane…” Xiaoyan whispered. “I thought the stories were exaggerated.”

  Xiaomei said nothing, but her hand tightened on her sheathed sword. Her gaze was locked on the stele—focused, unblinking.

  Adam took a slow breath.

  This place was a storm. And he had just stepped into the heart of it.

  Just as they moved further into the waiting area near the testing grounds, a young worker in simple but clean robes approached them. He held out a few folded slips of paper with the tired efficiency of someone who had done this a hundred times already.

  “Take one,” he said. “It’ll explain the stele. Saves the elders from answering the same questions.”

  Adam accepted one and passed the others to Xiaoyan and Xiaomei. The pamphlet was made of thin spirit-treated paper, ink shimmering faintly as if resisting the wear of time.

  He unfolded it and read aloud under his breath, more for his own clarity than anyone else’s.

  ‘Understanding Elemental Aptitude’

  Every living being possesses a trace of synchronization with all elements. However, the Stele of Resonance will search deep into the soul to reveal which elements you are most attuned to.

  Elemental Synchronization determines how naturally you can manipulate, absorb, and cultivate with that element. A high synchronization rate allows for faster cultivation speed, greater elemental control, and increased potential in techniques or comprehension.

  Synchronization is categorized into eight known grades, measured by the light intensity and color emitted by the stele:

  Grade 0 – No elemental affinity. Pure Qi cultivators.

  Grade 1 – Comparable to an ordinary mortal.

  Grade 2–3 – Low affinity. Difficult to cultivate with that element effectively.

  Grade 4–5 – Mid-level affinity. Adequate foundation, acceptable for most sects.

  Grade 6–7 – High affinity. Strong potential.

  Grade 8 – Supreme affinity. Extremely rare.

  A rumored Grade 9 exists in legends—near perfect resonance, said to bend the laws of the elements themselves. No verified record exists.

  Candidates with strong synchronization to multiple elements are exceptionally rare. Most cultivators specialize in one or two. Some stele variants can measure up to five elements at once, but the Grand Ember Stele has no such limit.

  Element Classification:

  Elements are divided based on frequency of appearance and cultivation difficulty:

  Common Elements – Earth, Water, Wind, Fire, Ice, Wood

  Uncommon Elements – Light, Darkness, Lightning,metal

  Rare Elements – Life, Death, Gravity, Space, Time

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  Rare elements are often considered blessings or curses. Synchronization with one may grant unmatched power… or unmatched trouble.

  Adam lowered the pamphlet slowly, letting the weight of the information settle.

  “So even if someone has low talent in most things, if they hit a high grade in one element, they’re still valuable?” Xiaoyan asked, skimming his own copy.

  “Very,” Adam replied, glancing back at the stele. “A Grade 6 in fire might get you into a top sect. A Grade 8… well, they might start grooming you for the core.”

  Xiaomei didn’t speak, but Adam noticed her subtly fold the pamphlet and slide it into her sleeve, eyes never leaving the ongoing tests.

  A boy screamed in awe as light exploded in multiple colors—three different elemental hues dancing around him. The crowd roared, while an elder in blue robes made a note on a hovering jade slip.

  “So that’s how it worked”

  —

  High above the chaos, in a floating pavilion adorned with crimson banners and layered formation veils, a tall, robed man stood before a voice-projection formation. His cultivation robes shimmered with embedded spirit thread, a badge of status. His voice, empowered by Qi, thundered across the coliseum like the toll of a divine bell.

  “Next!”

  He watched another candidate step forward, palm pressing against the stele. A warm yellow light flared—Grade 4, Earth element. A decent showing.

  The announcer didn’t even blink as he recorded it with a flick of his jade brush.

  “Earth again. That’s the sixth one this hour. A steady crowd of mediocrity, as always.”

  He sighed quietly to himself, straightening his posture.

  “Seventy-five thousand, eight hundred and thirty-nine registered this year…”

  He tapped his brush against the jade in thought.

  “Only five thousand and seventy-eight with even a mid-level affinity. And only thirty-eight have shown high-level aptitude so far. Common elements, all of them. Earth. Fire. Water. Ice. A little wind. Some wood. A few with dual elements, sure, but nothing game-breaking.”

  Another flare from the stele: Grade 3, Wind element. A quiet, disappointed murmur from the crowd.

  The announcer’s mouth moved with practiced smoothness. “Grade Three—Wind Element! Proceed to the left platform for further assessment.”

  Then, to himself again:

  “ Uncommon elements? Rare as hen’s teeth. A few flashes of lightning or darkness every few hours. Light is barely a flicker in the dataset. And not a single one with a rare element this year. Not one. Not even among the elite-bloodlines.”

  He glanced up at the reserved sky-platforms, where Peak Masters sipped spirit tea or pretended to feign interest. He knew they were waiting for miracles, waiting for the kind of spark that could make a sect proud—or a war possible.

  “ They come here every year hoping someone will walk out with ‘Time’ or ‘Space’ affinity, as if those aren’t rare. Life and Death show up maybe once in ten generations, and even then, those kids have a low grade at best and don’t live long. Gravity? That’s been dead since the Mountain Shaker Sect fell. And Time? Hah. We’re more likely to see the sun fall.”

  Another explosion of light—Grade 6, Fire and Wind.

  Finally, a reaction. The crowd gasped, murmurs rippled. The announcer leaned forward.

  “Number thirty-nine. Another high-grade. That one might get escorted to the Jade Pavilion. If he doesn’t burn out before Foundation Establishment, that is.”

  He cleared his throat and spoke again, voice booming.

  “Grade Six—Fire and Wind Dual Element Affinity! Proceed to the Next Test Site!”

  The stele dimmed again.

  The announcer exhaled through his nose.

  “Come on, you little monsters… give us something worth remembering.”

  He looked down at the next batch of names on the jade list, eyebrows raising slightly.

  “Huh. This group’s… interesting.”

  First, a name marked in golden script—Aria von ebonreich, with a notation: Royal Capital – Direct Bloodline. His gaze shifted toward one of the golden staircases leading up to the testing platform, where a young teen girl in imperial-blue robes stood surrounded by guards in formation gear. Her poise was graceful, yet her eyes held quiet arrogance—the kind born not of pride, but of certainty.

  “Another royal bloom. Let’s hope she’s got more than just pedigree.”

  Next, a strange entry—just one word: Adam.

  No title. No origin. No clan.

  “ That’s… uncommon. No surname, no background flag. Could be a foreigner, or someone with a sealed record. Hm.”

  Then his eyes narrowed.

  A red sigil pulsed faintly beside the name.

  Recommendation: Grand Elder Guo – Direct Endorsement.

  He stiffened in his seat, brows arching slightly.

  “ A direct endorsement… from Grand Elder Guo? That’s not something handed out lightly. No history, no clan, and yet… Guo puts his name on him? Either the old man’s gone soft… or this one’s worth watching.”

  He squinted toward the lineup, eyes scanning the group approaching the stele.

  There.

  Adam stood casually behind a girl dressed in refined robes marked with royal embroidery—Aria von ebonreich of the Royal Capital, if he remembered right. Adam’s posture was relaxed, half-lazy, like he had wandered into the wrong room and decided to stay. Two younger teens with similar features flanked him—siblings, maybe. But the fourth...

  Ah. That one’s hard to miss.

  A towering figure, bare-chested despite the wind, with fur and bone draped over his shoulders. Dark tattoos crawled across bulging arms like serpents. Thorgar of the Icelands, the registry said—a barbarian from the wild North, where Qi was drawn through blood rites and ancestral worship.

  The announcer leaned back, expression unreadable.

  “A royal prodigy. A wild brute. And a mystery man with a blank slate and a Grand Elder’s seal. Hells… this year’s turning out more interesting than most.”

  He rolled his neck, adjusted his robes, and activated the voice projection formation embedded in the podium. His voice thundered across the arena like rolling clouds before a storm.

  “Aria von ebonreich of the Royal Capital. Adam, endorsed by Grand Elder Guo. Thorgar of the Icelands. Step forward.”

  The announcer’s voice echoed across the Ember Coliseum, silencing the crowd for a breathless instant. Then, like a ripple on still water, murmurs began to spread—voices tinged with surprise, intrigue, and speculation.

  “Wait, did he say Grand Elder Guo?”

  “That barbarian… they actually let one in?”

  “Isn’t Aria Seigfried the princess’ cousin?”

  He let the stir run its course for a moment before continuing, his tone returning to its standard clipped professionalism.

  “Lan Xiaoyan. Lan Xiaomei. Step forward as well.”

  A few scattered glances drifted toward the siblings, but the buzz barely moved. The crowd’s focus remained firmly on the three who had seized their imagination—noble blood, northern ferocity, and an unknown name wrapped in mystery.

  The announcer barely glanced at the rest.

  “They’ll get tested like everyone else. But the crowd’s already picked their favorites…”

  Aria seigfried stepped forward first, her steps graceful and poised, robes of pale blue trailing like frost behind her. She placed her hand upon the stone stele.

  A breath passed.

  Then light surged upward—twin pillars of deep violet and glacial blue shot into the sky, twisting and coiling like dragons of mist and shadow.

  Grade 8. Ice and Darkness.

  The entire coliseum shook with response.

  “A supreme dual affinity!”

  “Both uncommon elements—and at the highest level?!”

  On the floating platforms above, sect masters and elders leaned forward sharply. A few even stood, eyes burning with intent.

  “That one’s already taken, I’ll bet, the announcer thought, lips tightening in appreciation. Someone’s going to fight over her regardless.”

  Next, the towering barbarian stepped forward. Thorgar of the Icelands. He didn’t walk—he stomped. He placed his palm against the stele like he meant to crush it.

  Nothing happened.

  No light. No element. Not even the faintest glow.

  The crowd began to murmur—confused, dismissive.

  The stele glowed faintly, and a single symbol appeared:

  Grade 0. Elemental Affinity: None.

  Silence.

  Then a few scattered laughs.

  But the announcer’s eyes narrowed. He scribbled a note beside Thorgar’s name.

  “No elemental affinity at all… and yet his Qi density is absurd. An anomaly? Or something worse?”

  Thorgar, unfazed by the reaction, grunted and walked away like he couldn’t care less.

  Before the confusion settled, Lan Xiaoyan stepped forward, youthful face tight with nerves, but shoulders square with resolve. He reached out slowly, hand trembling slightly as it met the stele.

  Then—

  FWOOOSH.

  Flames burst into the air. Fire bloomed upward, bright and untamed. But before the murmurs could even start, another force spiraled around it—a second light, pulsing erratically, disjointed yet powerful.

  Time.

  The crowd froze. Some literally, caught in momentary disorientation as the elemental resonance clashed with their senses.

  Grade 8. Fire and Time.

  Stunned silence. Then a rising tide of awe.

  “Time?!”

  “Another supreme grade?!”

  “Who are these kids?!”

  Even some peak masters stirred in genuine shock. A time affinity was rare—it was highly valued in any sect.

  Lan Xiaoyan looked back toward his sister with wide eyes, still stunned.

  Then came Lan Xiaomei.

  Her approach was calm, almost solemn. She placed her hand against the stone.

  Water rose quickly—expected, clear, serene.

  Then a second light spiraled up beside it. Softer. Pale green. Almost… alive.

  Gasps filled the air.

  Life.

  A rare element. The stele pulsed as it assigned her score:

  Grade 5. Water and Life.

  For a heartbeat, silence. Then—

  Gasps rippled through the crowd. Conversations erupted in hushed, urgent tones. Even the elders on the judging platform leaned forward.

  “Life affinity…” someone whispered, breathless. “Even at mid-grade, that’s rarer than a phoenix’s tear.”

  The crowd didn’t cheer—they revered. Eyes filled with awe, envy, and hope. A healer with Life affinity wasn’t just valuable. She was sacred.

  The stele dimmed. Four stood behind it now.

  And one still waited.

  All eyes began to shift.

  To him.

  Adam stepped forward, the weight of thousands of eyes pressing down on him like falling stone.

  His expression didn’t shift. But inside, his thoughts stirred like a quiet storm.

  “Light… That was the first. When I tried to push light Qi into the upper dantian, something shifted. It didn’t go up—it curved, flowed sideways, into the middle dantian. As if the element had been waiting for me.

  He exhaled slowly, feeling the pulse of Qi in his veins.

  “And then there’s metal. That… wasn’t voluntary. The Titan's corruption filled my lower dantian, warping the Qi into something dense, sharp, and unnatural. I refined it—but it never really became mine. It just fused with what I am now.”

  He stared at the stele, its surface smooth and humming with dormant judgment.

  “Light and Metal. But what if there’s more? What if I’ve been wrong about my core alignments?”

  “And with my cultivation realm already at Qi Condensation... will that change how this test reads me? Will the stele sense what I am… or what I’m becoming?”

  The murmur of the crowd faded from his ears.

  Only the sound of his breath remained.

  And then—he reached out, and placed his hand upon the stone.

  For a breath, nothing happened.

  Then—a hum.

  From deep within his chest—his mid dantian—a warmth began to bloom. It pulsed gently, rhythmically, as if echoing a heartbeat not entirely his own. And then, from his left arm, the sword-shaped limb shivered, vibrating with a low metallic resonance.

  The stone beneath him lit up.

  But just before the light could burst forth—

  Time stopped.

  The winds froze mid-gust. Dust hung still in the air. Sound ceased.

  And beside Adam… Zayk appeared.

  Draped in shadow and silver strands of floating light, his form was vague but regal—his eyes glowing faintly with detached amusement.

  “Quite the spectacle you’re about to make, Adam,” Zayk said, tone cool, like a whisper between gods. “The stele will read what’s inside you, but not everything was always yours.”

  He raised a hand, and golden threads of energy shimmered across the sky, scenes playing out like memories:

  “Due to that being’s interference, you now carry Light. Grade 9.”

  “And the Titan’s lingering presence in your cursed sword arm… has granted you Metal. Grade 9.”

  Zayk’s smile twitched with annoyance.

  “You were supposed to get Lightning, you know. A modest Grade 6. Something natural. Balanced. But now... they’ve left their fingerprints all over you.”

  He stepped closer, shadows coiling behind his feet like obedient snakes.

  “But I’ll be damned if I let them outdo me.”

  Adam’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve given me enough, Zayk. I don't need another gift. You don't need to—”

  Zayk raised his hand.

  “I insist.”

  Before Adam could protest further, Zayk reached out—and touched Adam’s forehead.

  A sharp pulse.

  Then cold.

  Deep, ancient, unmoving cold surged up into his upper dantian.

  “Death,” Zayk whispered. “Grade 9. My little gift. Let’s see the world make sense of you now.”

  And then, with a flick of his sleeve—

  Time returned.

  The world lurched back into motion.

  And the stele—still glowing beneath Adam’s hand—exploded with light.