The morning mist clung low to the dirt roads of Qinghe like old cotton, damp and quiet.
Yun Long tightened the sash on his plain hemp tunic and followed the steady clatter of feet down the path. Behind him, Old Yun coughed twice, grumbling about noisy children, while Madam Su fussed over his uncombed hair.
Today was not a festival. No drums. No lanterns.
But it was still important.
Today was Qi Evaluation Day.
Every year, once the spring frost had melted and the peach blossoms began to fall, the village hosted its small Stone Trial — a tradition for children nearing their eighth year. An old time-worn measuring stone, passed down through generations, was brought from the temple storehouse. It looked like nothing more than a half-carved boulder covered in faded runes… but when touched by a child, it glowed with a faint red hue, revealing signs of Qi sensitivity.
Most only had a flicker.
A few had none at all.
And rarely… just rarely… one child's presence would make the runes shine like coals in wind.
---
The square was filled by the time Yun Long and his guardians arrived. Villagers murmured, eyes bright with curiosity. Mothers held toddlers. Fathers crossed arms. Children leaned on each other, bouncing with excitement and fear.
The stone sat at the center of the temple yard — worn, weather-stained, but unbroken.
Old Chen, with his crooked cane, stood beside it like a smug gatekeeper.
"Same rules as every year," he called. "Step forward, touch the stone, then step back. Don't think too hard — the stone doesn't care about thoughts. Only your body."
The line formed.
Yun Long stood somewhere in the middle.
Ahead, the other boys and girls stepped up one by one.
Some touched the stone and received only silence.
Others brought a faint flicker of light.
One girl named Mei'er earned a thin red ring that circled the top of the stone like a smoke ring.
Whispers spread.
"She might be Third Stage by fourteen."
"She'll be recruited for sure."
Yun Long tilted his head, eyes curious but calm.
He wasn't nervous. Just focused.
He thought of his training. His breathing. The old man's teachings. The way his body felt lighter lately, like something inside was syncing without effort.
"Next!"
It was his turn.
He walked to the stone. No bow. No hesitation.
He placed his hand gently on its surface.
For a moment, nothing.
Then — a soft ripple of red, deeper than any before, moved across the surface like water disturbed by wind. It pulsed once… twice… then settled into a dim but steady glow, like a lantern behind fog.
The crowd murmured.
Not blinding. Not brilliant. But…
"Stable," someone muttered.
"That's rare."
"Seven years old?"
Old Chen blinked, leaning forward. He scratched his beard with a frown that wasn't displeased.
Yun Long stepped back, confused by the stares.
"Did I do it wrong?" he whispered to the next child.
"You… you held it longer than anyone else," she whispered back.
He scratched his head.
---
When all children had finished, Old Chen cleared his throat.
"As expected — most of you won't be cultivators. But some of you might just crawl past the first few stages if you don't grow soft."
He didn't name names.
But his eyes flicked toward Yun Long once.
---
That night, at the supper table, Old Yun scoffed.
"Bah! A flicker of red. I could've done better when I was seven."
Madam Su smiled gently. "You were chasing pigs at seven."
Yun Long didn't speak. He held his bowl of rice, but his eyes kept drifting to the pouch under his shirt.
Later, he sat by himself outside, watching the moon rise over the eastern ridge.
The stone in the pouch didn't glow.
But his heartbeat did feel… different.
Like a second rhythm had quietly started beneath his own.
---
Meanwhile, beyond Qinghe — across the southern trade road — a merchant caravan passed through a burned-out post.
The leader frowned at scorched trees.
"No beast would burn trees like that," he muttered.
His guard shook his head. "Should we report it?"
"To whom?" the merchant said grimly. "There's no sect presence this far out."
"Not yet," the guard replied.
---