Chapter 4: The Life Token

Both Ji Minghuai and Qi Yanwei possessed single spiritual roots, with Ji Minghuai even being a Celestial Root—a prodigy among his peers in the sect. Many were curious about the aptitude of the child born to such gifted individuals, though there was even more a sense of pity for them.

The originally multicolored testing orb was swiftly engulfed by a blazing red. Then, a fiery red phoenix soared up from the base of the sphere, as if it would burst through the orb and ascend to the heavens. Yet, just as it touched the top of the sphere, it turned to sparks, causing the red within to burn even brighter.

“Ji Jiuxuan, fire-element Celestial Root,” Elder Huaxu announced with a gentle stroke of his beard and a broad smile.

This result was both as expected and yet somehow not. Such a rare aptitude was indeed something only those two could have produced.

Suddenly, an exclamation shattered the stillness. “Innate Sword Body! It’s actually an Innate Sword Body!”

Everyone turned at once to the testing orb, now blazing with crimson flames and a white halo, stunned by what they saw.

The Xuantian Sect was primarily devoted to the sword, and for them, an Innate Sword Body was nothing less than a gift from the heavens—the hope of their sect’s future.

The entire hall was swept up in excitement, even Qi Shuoyuan and Ji Mingsi, who were usually unflappable, gazed joyously at the young girl standing beside the orb, barely taller than the sphere itself, their hearts swelling with happiness for her.

In the world of cultivation, diligence was but one part; innate talent was of paramount importance. Superior aptitude could allow one to surpass others with ease.

This time, Elder Huaxu did not announce the words “Innate Sword Body” aloud. Instead, after exchanging a glance with Qi Shuoyuan, he nodded and said, “I hope that the results of today’s test will not be spread beyond this hall.”

Although Xuantian Sect was a great power in the cultivation world, it had no shortage of enemies. Until Ji Jiuxuan grew strong enough, they would have to take every precaution.

“Yes,” came the unified reply. Understanding the gravity of the matter, each person immediately swore a Heavenly Oath, pledging never to reveal a single word of what transpired.

Elder Huaxu nodded in satisfaction, then instructed He Xiangze to take the newly tested disciples to craft their life tokens. As for himself, he and Qi Shuoyuan led Ji Jiuxuan toward the rear of the hall.

“Grandfather, where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see when we arrive,” Qi Shuoyuan replied, his expression suddenly grave. He turned to Huaxu, asking, “Is there still hope?”

Huaxu hesitated, then said, “The chances are slim.”

Qi Shuoyuan’s aura grew heavy; Huaxu’s words made it clear that hope was fading.

Three years ago, when Huaxu invoked the forbidden art of Celestial Divination, it had shown that little A’Jiu was their sole hope. Even though the survivors who returned from that mission with Yanwei had said they were lost to the heavens, he still clung to a sliver of hope, praying for a miracle.

For three years, he had searched for answers but found not the slightest trace.

Ji Jiuxuan could not understand what they were discussing, but when Qi Shuoyuan’s demeanor shifted, she instinctively squeezed his hand, feeling a touch of fear. She sensed that whatever they spoke of was connected to her, though she did not know how.

Qi Shuoyuan soon noticed and looked down at her with deep affection. “Don’t worry, A’Jiu. Everything will be fine.”

As he channeled spiritual energy through his hand, Ji Jiuxuan found her anxiety dissipating, replaced by a sense of lightness and ease.

Soon, they arrived before a massive vermilion gate, its surface traced with intricate golden patterns.

With a gesture, Huaxu unlocked the seal, and the patterns on the door seemed to come alive, as if a series of mechanisms were being released.

This was the most advanced spell Ji Jiuxuan had ever seen. Before, the most Wen Ying had ever done for her was the cleansing spell, and the rest was simply teaching her the basics from ordinary books.

As the patterns split and drew aside, the grand doors opened to reveal a barrier of spiritual energy, within which nothing could be seen.

Huaxu strode in first; as he passed through the barrier, ripples spread across its surface.

When Qi Shuoyuan took Ji Jiuxuan’s hand and guided her forward, she curiously reached out to touch the barrier. Her hand passed through effortlessly, meeting no resistance at all. Watching the ripples radiate from her fingers, she marveled at the sensation, but did not linger, following Qi Shuoyuan inside.

There, Huaxu was already waiting, holding a wooden token made of the same material as the great doors.

“Little one, Grandpa Huaxu will need a drop of your blood to make your life token. It won’t hurt, don’t worry,” Huaxu said kindly, bending down to reassure her.

“All right.” Ji Jiuxuan nodded obediently, but still asked, “Grandpa Huaxu, what is this for?”

“A life token. Grandpa Huaxu is making one for our little A’Jiu, so that if you ever face danger, we’ll know at once.”

“Thank you, Grandpa Huaxu.” So this was the life token of the cultivation world; she remembered that when her parents met with disaster, it was Elder Huaxu who realized something was wrong by checking their tokens.

A soft pulse of spiritual power swept by, and from Ji Jiuxuan’s finger rose a single, glistening drop of crimson blood. As it fell onto the token, Huaxu’s spiritual energy surged, forming intricate arrays that drew the blood into themselves, finally merging it into the wood.

Her name appeared on the token, which blazed with a vivid red flame, yet remained perfectly intact, not so much as singed.

“Grandpa Huaxu, is the flame because I have a fire spiritual root?”

“Yes, the life token reflects the nature of your spiritual root,” Huaxu answered with a smile, letting the token float upward on a current of spiritual energy.

Only then did Ji Jiuxuan notice the multitude of tokens drifting above, each enclosed in its own translucent sphere of spiritual energy, orbiting around a central Celestial Diviner.

There were tokens of a single color, two colors, and even a few with three evenly blended hues—no more than that.

Curiously, Ji Jiuxuan asked, “Grandpa Huaxu, why are there only up to three roots here? Where are the tokens for those with four or five spiritual roots?”

Huaxu nodded. “Yes, those are kept in a different hall.”

Seeing the spark of intelligence in her eyes, Huaxu did not hide the truth, and explained, “The path to immortality is more arduous for those with four or five roots, but some still achieve greatness. We keep their tokens separate, that’s all.”

Ji Jiuxuan understood at last; she had thought it was a matter of distinguishing aptitude.

As she gazed up at the tokens, she suddenly noticed two tokens cloaked in dense mist drifting slowly from the far side of the Celestial Diviner into view. For some reason, Ji Jiuxuan felt an inexplicable sense of kinship toward them.

“Grandpa Huaxu, those two tokens look strange. Why are they so shrouded in gray mist?” She even wondered if something had happened to their owners—why else would they be enveloped in that somber fog?