Chapter One: Yang Fan

A fleeting life of several decades—coming and going in haste—why not drink and sing while you can, and let your name rise high, so your journey through this world will not have been in vain?

In November, the first snowflakes began to drift down from the sky, and the temperature dropped sharply. In an unremarkable small city in ancient Huaxia, in the far east of Earth, stood an orphanage.

Children played and chased one another in the courtyard.

At the orphanage gate, an old woman and a young man were bidding each other farewell.

“Yang Fan, now that you’re an adult, you have to leave the orphanage and make your way on your own, as the rules demand when you turn eighteen. Remember, live well and always walk the right path.”

The old woman, her back hunched with age, spoke gently to the boy carrying a suitcase and a backpack.

“Grandma Director, don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Thank you for taking care of me all these eighteen years. I’m leaving now, but I’ll come back to visit you.”

The boy tightened the straps of his backpack and bowed to the elderly lady.

“As long as you’re well, that’s enough. Here, take this jade pendant. It was yours when you first arrived—I’ve kept it for you. Now that you’re grown, it’s time to return it. From now on, everything depends on you.”

With these words, the old woman took a small box from her pocket.

Yang Fan hesitated, then reached out to receive the box. “Thank you. Take care of yourself, Grandma. It’s too cold out here—please go inside. I’m off now.”

He bowed once more, tears glistening in his eyes, and turned to leave.

Braving the biting wind, the young man walked into the distance, leaving behind the place where he had spent his childhood.

Here, he had learned to survive, to be a person.

...

Winter in this northwestern city was bitter cold, the sort of cold that sliced any exposed skin like a knife. No matter how thickly you dressed, the icy wind would soon cut straight through to your flesh.

In the small city of HM, along Tianshan North Road, the avenue was teeming with people.

A long line of citizens snaked along the street—parents with their children. Today was the biannual aptitude test for cultivators.

It had been ten years since the spiritual energy revival began in 2008. To this day, no one knew the true cause of this global phenomenon. Experts had offered many theories, yet none could be proven, nor could any be entirely dismissed.

The early years of the revival were chaotic. People awakened to extraordinary abilities and, intoxicated by their sudden power, indulged in crime. Incidents among awakened individuals overseas grew ever more frequent. In China, the authorities acted swiftly, founding “Sky Net” to capture all criminal awakened and to gather talented individuals from across the nation—a strategy that proved highly effective.

Sky Net’s founding principle was to recruit exceptional talents for the country. With firm government support, Sky Net managed to bring both cultivators and awakened individuals under control.

Later, when ancient ruins began to open, awakened individuals from all over the world entered to explore. Thanks to internal stability and formidable strength, Sky Net secured significant gains in these relics.

In time, the government established Cultivator Academies and a Cultivator Administration Bureau, continuing to search for those with the talent to cultivate or awaken.

Every year, local Cultivator Administration Bureaus across the country held two aptitude assessments, targeting all eighteen-year-old boys and girls.

Those found to possess cultivation or awakening talent could enter government-run, Sky Net-supervised Cultivator Academies.

In today’s society, cultivators had become mainstream. The significance of the test now rivaled, if not surpassed, that of the college entrance exam.

...

Yang Fan stood in the line, having come straight here from the orphanage.

What youth does not dream of immortality and heroism?

With fervor in his heart, Yang Fan hoped to see if he possessed the aptitude for the path of cultivation.

If he could enter a Cultivator Academy, it would be like a carp leaping over the dragon gate—a whole new world would open before him!

...

The crowd was noisy and lively.

“Old Wang, do you think my boy could be a cultivator? Damn, this is more nerve-wracking than my college entrance exam was.” Old Liu patted his son’s head.

“Who can say?” Old Wang replied. “Let’s hope for the best. The world’s changed. Back in our day, if you didn’t do well on the college exam, you could still make your way with hard work. But now, with the revival of spiritual energy, no amount of effort can bridge the gap between cultivators and ordinary people—it all comes down to talent. If you can’t become a cultivator, you’re living in a different world.”

He sighed as he glanced at his child, worry etching his features.

“Yeah, you’re right…” Old Liu sighed as well. “There’s no hope for our generation, but let’s hope the kids pass.”

Yang Fan listened to the parents ahead of him discussing whether their children had the necessary aptitude.

“This era really has changed. The divide between cultivators and ordinary people is growing. I wonder if I have what it takes. If not, I’ll have to find my own way. But apart from some strength, I really don’t have any special skills—what could I do?”

Yang Fan’s heart was uneasy. A child raised in an orphanage, his knowledge was limited. The nine years of compulsory education were guaranteed, but he hadn’t attended high school—the fees were simply too steep. Tuition, uniforms, books—the costs were more than an orphan could bear. The orphanage’s government subsidy only ensured the children’s basic needs, supplemented by donations from kindhearted people.

After junior high, Yang Fan tried to teach himself some high school material, but without guidance, he only managed a fragmentary understanding. Later, as he grew older, he took on odd jobs to earn a little pocket money and gradually stopped studying the textbooks the director had given him.

People used to say knowledge changes fate, and that’s still true—but now you have to add: cultivation shapes your life!

The long line crept forward. After about an hour, Yang Fan finally crossed the threshold of the Cultivator Administration Bureau.

Nerves mounted among the young people.

“Whew…” Yang Fan rubbed his hands together, breathing warmth into his palms, finally feeling a bit less cold.

As the wait grew shorter, anxiety among the youths only intensified.

“Dad, I’m so nervous. I feel even worse than before the college entrance exam.” A trembling boy spoke to his father.

“It’s alright, son. You’ll do fine,” his father reassured him, pretending at ease.

Hearing this, Yang Fan’s heart fluttered. “It’s almost my turn, almost my turn. Stay calm. I can do this…”

He tried to steady himself, but his body still trembled with nerves.

The line moved forward again, and soon it was Yang Fan’s turn.

He stepped into the testing hall, where he saw a series of partitioned rooms. Staff moved from room to room, carrying equipment.

Parents waited anxiously in a designated area. This was the moment that could change a life. Excitement and tension filled the air as one by one, boys and girls emerged to join the waiting area. Staff would occasionally approach to announce results, prompting joy or disappointment among the young candidates and their parents.

...

Led by an official, Yang Fan came to a room. Inside sat a man of about forty, beside a large machine, much like a hospital scanner—though Yang Fan had only seen such machines on television and didn’t know its name.

“Come in, lie down, take off your shoes.”

Yang Fan set down his backpack and suitcase, removed his shoes, and lay down, too nervous to ask any questions.

A beam swept over him. Suddenly, he felt a sharp prick on his finger—the man had drawn a small sample of blood and placed it in a container on the table.

“Alright, get up, put your shoes on, and come fill out this form.”

Yang Fan got off the bed, put on his shoes, and sat at the table.

As soon as he sat, the man began to ask questions, filling out the form.

“Name?”

“Yang Fan.”

“Address?”

“I don’t have one. I just left the orphanage and haven’t found a place to stay yet.”

The man glanced up at him.

“Orphan?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll put down ‘orphanage’ then. If you pass, your admission letter will be sent there—go pick it up yourself.”

“Alright. But, um, aren’t the results usually announced outside?”

Yang Fan summoned the courage to ask.

The man replied, “The results outside are just to tell you if you have cultivation aptitude. The admission letter means you’ve been accepted by a specific academy. There are seventy-two Cultivator Academies in our country. After you list your choices outside, whichever academy accepts you will send you a letter.”

“Got it, thank you!”

After collecting some more basic information, the man said, “That’s it. Go wait outside. Someone will come and tell you if you’re suited to cultivation, or if you have awakening potential.”

“Okay.”

Yang Fan nodded, picked up his belongings, and walked out, nerves still on edge.