Bek marched forward like a general heading into battle, planting himself right at the center of the testing grounds. His chest puffed out so far it looked like he was trying to intimidate the pillar itself.
The crowd quieted.
Dozens of eyes stared.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Nothing happened.
No glow.
No flicker.
Not even a pity spark.
Bek tightened his fists, muscles bulging as if he believed raw biceps could force the heavens to cooperate.
“Come on… light up,” he whispered, voice trembling with desperation and ego.
From the crowd, someone muttered, “Bro looks like he’s about to explode.”
Another voice chimed in, “Nah, he’s definitely holding in a fart.”
A wave of snickers spread. Someone even mimicked a trumpet sound.
Then—fwip.
A faint brown glow flickered on the pillar.
The laughter froze mid-air.
The glow sputtered… dimmed… and died like a candle in the rain.
Earth affinity. Weak. Embarrassingly weak.
Bek’s face lit up brighter than the pillar ever did.
“YES! That’s what I’m talking about!”
The crowd, however, had their own commentary.
“Man, that light was weaker than my grandma’s knees.”
“Still better than nothing, I guess.”
“Good body, weak affinity. Heaven is fair… brutally fair.”
“Honestly, I blinked and missed it.”
A few people clapped politely.
A few sighed in disappointment.
One guy in the back yelled, “At least he didn’t fart!”
Bek strutted back to his companions like a hero returning from war.
“I passed the test!” he announced, voice bursting with pride.
Lin gave him a sideways look. “Yeah… barely. But hey, a pass is a pass.”
Shin smiled warmly. “Congratulations, Bek. Your road to glory begins now.”
Bek nodded, aura swelling with the confidence of a man who believed destiny had personally shaken his hand.
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“Of course. Glory and wealth await me.”
The elder raised his hand, and the restless crowd fell silent. Only a handful of candidates remained, their faces pale with nerves. Lin and Shin exchanged glances, knowing their turn was near.
The elder’s voice rang out:
“Shin.”
Shin stepped forward, calm but heavy with worry. His footsteps echoed against the stone floor, each one louder than the last in the hushed arena.
From the crowd, whispers stirred like buzzing insects.
“Why’s he even taking the test? Everyone knows he’s… well, ordinary.”
“Maybe he’s hoping for a miracle.”
“Or maybe he just wants to embarrass himself.”
A few chuckles rippled through the audience—until the elder’s gaze swept over them. His eyes were sharp as blades, and the laughter died instantly. Silence returned, heavy and suffocating.
Two pillars stood before Shin, tall and unyielding. He drew in a deep breath, steadying himself against the weight of expectation.
“Now… is the time,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
He pressed his hand to the stone.
The crowd leaned forward.
Bek clenched his fists in solidarity.
Lin bit her lip.
Nothing.
No glow.
No flicker.
No change at all.
The silence stretched, cruel and absolute. Then the crowd began to murmur again.
“Not even a spark…”
“Guess Heaven already made up its mind.”
“Poor guy. At least Bek got a fart-light.”
A few laughed softly, others shook their heads with pity. One elder coughed deliberately, silencing the mockery before it grew too loud.
Shin stood tall, though his heart sank. He had hoped for even the faintest sign—but the heavens had given him nothing.
For a moment, the arena was heavy with disappointment. Shin’s hand rested on the pillar, but nothing stirred. The silence was suffocating.
Then—suddenly—light.
A blinding radiance burst forth, so strong the crowd shielded their eyes.
“What is that?!”
“It’s too bright!”
“Ahh—I can’t see!”
The pillar of faith shone with an intensity no one had ever witnessed. Its glow shifted wildly—white, then crimson, then a deep, unsettling black. The colors pulsed like a heartbeat, unnatural and chaotic.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Some were astonished, others fell into trembling fear. Children clung to their parents, and even seasoned cultivators stepped back.
“What’s happening?” someone cried.
“This isn’t normal!” another shouted.
“Is Heaven… angry?”
The sky itself seemed to answer.
Darkness spread overhead, swallowing the sun. Thunder cracked, and lightning split the heavens, jagged bolts ready to strike.
Shin staggered, eyes wide. “What is happening?” he whispered, confusion etched across his face.
The pillars trembled, as if calling out for aid. The storm above roared louder, and then—a monstrous force descended. A dark cloud surged downward, striking Shin with a violent burst. The impact hurled him off the stage, as though the heavens themselves were rejecting him.
The crowd screamed.
Some shouted prayers.
Others fled in panic.
It was as if the pillars had summoned Heaven’s wrath, warning of a beast lurking nearby—an omen that something far greater, far darker, was about to awaken.
The storm vanished as suddenly as it had come. The clouds dissolved, leaving only silence and the faint smell of scorched air. Shin lay sprawled on the ground, his body trembling, vision blurred. His ears rang, and the voices of his companions reached him faintly, like echoes in a dream.
“Shin, are you okay?”
“Can you hear us?”
Lin’s voice was urgent, Bek’s loud and worried.
Shin groaned, clutching his head. “What… happened?”
Bek crouched beside him, eyes wide. “You were hit by lightning—Heaven itself struck you down and sent you flying here!”
Shin winced. “My head hurts… everything is spinning…”
The crowd murmured in awe and fear, but their whispers fell silent as Elder Yun stepped forward. His robes dragged softly against the stone, his presence heavy and commanding. He looked down at Shin with eyes that carried both pity and judgment.
“You are both lucky and unlucky, child,” Elder Yun said slowly. His voice carried across the arena, silencing all. “Lucky, you were able to survive the defense mechanism. Unlucky, because what you have stirred is no blessing—it is a terrible omen.”
He paused, the weight of his words pressing on everyone present.
“Your faith, Shin… is unbearable. Even Heaven recoils.”
The crowd shivered. Some bowed their heads in prayer, others exchanged fearful glances. The pillars still trembled faintly, as if echoing the elder’s warning.
Unbearable faith.
Rejected by Heaven.
Shin lay there, staring at the sky that had just tried to erase him, his heart pounding with a question he dared not voice.
If even Heaven rejected him…
then what, exactly, was he meant to become?
