The news spread like wildfire.
Whispers carried through the outer camps. Low-ranked servants murmured among themselves. Even the younger guards couldn't hide their surprise.
An outsider—someone not of Liu blood—had been accepted to take part in the Awakening Ceremony.
Zhang Wei.
The boy who came from nowhere. The one who saved Liu Yan'er.
Most had seen him hauling water, scrubbing tools, or sweeping the gathering hall. Few had ever considered him anything more than a temporary guest.
And now?
He was walking the same path as the Liu scions.
The dissatisfaction spread more like a trickle—whispers exchanged in government, furtive sideways glances, yet it did not take long for the mass of lower members of the tribe to exhibit signs of distaste and impatience, then behaviour began to show that impatience was riding on a wave of frustration. Inside the main lodge, Ethan could not stop grinning.
A moment later, he was suddenly kneeling and hugging Liu Tieshan's stout leg to him.
"Thank you, Uncle Tieshan! I promise, I will do my best! I won't dishonour you!"
The big man stopped in place at Ethan's proclamation before groaning and let out some sort of laugh and pixie-like fingers ruffled Ethan's hair to mush against his face shape.
"Just don't call me uncle like a kid with a runny nose," he valued, though soft meaning alongside his eye. "You are part of the tribe now. Just do what you have to do and let Heaven decide what happen after."
Ethan nodded furiously.
As they walked out together, the sun was low in the sky and long shadows swept over the clan grounds. A soft breeze floated in on the scent of pine and baked roots, and for the first time, Ethan felt like he was at home.
But not everyone agreed.
In a different section of the Liu compound—near the elders' private quarters—an old man in brown robes slammed his cane into the wooden floor with a crack.
Elder Liu Yinhai, sharp-eyed and thin as dried bark, paced furiously in his room, robes fluttering with every step.
"The bloodline of the Liu Clan is sacred!" he spat. "We do not hand out our rites like they're trinkets from a market stall!"
A servant boy outside flinched.
Inside, Liu Yinhai approached a young man seated in lotus position on a straw mat—his grandson.
Liu Shen.
Tall, with sharp cheekbones and a quiet intensity in his dark eyes. He had already shown talent beyond his peers, and rumors whispered that he was a B-grade aptitude at the very least.
"You are the future of our clan," Liu Yinhai said, voice hard. "Not that rootless vagabond."
Liu Shen said nothing. His gaze remained forward, unblinking.
Yinhai's eyes narrowed. "He's a threat. Not because of his strength—but because he opens the door. If we let one outsider in, others will follow. That fool Tieshan is blinded by gratitude. But I? I see clearly."
He jabbed a finger toward the door. "Prove them wrong. When the Hope Gu descends, show them what true bloodline talent looks like."
Liu Shen bowed his head slightly.
"Yes, Grandfather."
Back in the outer circle, Ethan felt the weight of unseen gazes. Not everyone was happy.
But in that moment, leaning beside the fire with Tieshan's cloak draped around his shoulders, he didn't care.
He had a chance.
And he wouldn't waste it.
He doesn't want to be a mortal to stay at the bottom of the food chain in the world where once an pursue immortality that was just a fleeting dream in his original world.
Mortal is a term used to refer to people who are not Gu Masters, so people that haven't opened their aperture yet, those underage, not having the opportunity or those who have no talent in cultivation.
The main square of the Liu Tribe was alive with excitement.
Dozens of young mortals—children of hunters, craftsmen, and warriors—stood in neatly arranged lines. Each wore ceremonial linen robes, hair tied back, faces cleaned and solemn. They were the hope of the Liu Clan. Today, some of them would become Gu Masters.
A wide stage of carved stone rose above the crowd. Behind it stood four elders, robes lined with intricate beast-Gu patterns, eyes sweeping across the gathering. But at the center was a man no one could ignore.
Liu Qinghe, the Clan Head, stepped forward.
He was not the largest man, nor the most imposing. But when he stood, he carried the air of a mountain that could not be moved. Broad-shouldered, square-jawed, with sharp silver threads in his jet-black hair, he held the silence like a drawn blade.
His eyes swept over the youths—then over the gathered tribe.
"Today," he began, voice calm and clear, "we gather to witness the beginning of another cycle."
The breeze hushed. Children straightened their backs. Elders leaned forward slightly.
"Young blood… ready to awaken. Ready to fight. Ready to climb."
He gestured to the rugged land around them.
"This is the Northern Plains! A land where the strong thrive, and the weak are forgotten. Here, strength is the law. Gu Masters are kings. Mortals are dust beneath their feet. The world is cruel—and it always will be."
His eyes burned with fervor.
"That is why you must climb. If you remain in the mud, you will be stepped on. If you awaken, then the sky will open. Even if your talent is poor, even if your strength is weak… as long as you take that first step, you will have a path."
He paused.
"Many of you will fail. That is truth. But those who succeed…"
He raised a hand high.
"Those who succeed will carry the hope of our clan into the next generation."
The crowd exploded into cheers. The young ones couldn't help but feel the fire in their chests. Even Ethan—standing near the end of the third row—felt his heart pound.
Tieshan stood quietly to the side, arms folded. He met Ethan's glance and gave the tiniest of nods.
Then the ceremony began.
The elders brought out a Hope Gu—a pale green butterfly Gu that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. Its wings left behind a faint trail of stardust as it fluttered in the air, circling above the young participants.
This was no ordinary Gu.
It was a Gu that allowed mortals to awaken their aperture—the core space of a Gu Master's cultivation.
One by one, the children stepped forward and kneeled before the altar. An elder guided them through the process in a firm voice:
"Close your eyes. Breathe slowly. Visualize your lower abdomen. Call to the Hope Gu with sincerity. Let it guide you inward."
The process began internally.
They had to enter a meditative state, focus their consciousness inward, and seek the primordial qi sea hidden deep within their body. At the very bottom of their dantian, beneath flesh, bone, and will, was the natural aperture point—a closed spiritual gate that only awakened under the right circumstances.
The Hope Gu fluttered above each youth, landing on their foreheads or chest, releasing gentle pulses of spiritual energy.
For some, a faint glow spread across their stomach.
"Success," an elder would whisper.
Those few lucky ones who succeeded would feel their consciousness break through into the aperture—a new world inside their own body, a void filled with pale-blue mist. This was primeval essence, the foundation of all Gu Master cultivation.
Then, the elder would test their aptitude—how much essence their aperture could hold. And based on that, their talent grade would be judged.
A Grade – Incredibly rare, blessed by heaven.
B Grade – Excellent, core genius level.
C Grade – Solid talent, with potential.
D Grade – Weak talent, often barely enough.
E Grade – Sometimes appears, extremely rare and almost hopeless.
Most got C or D.
Few got B.
And A… well, that was a dream even elders seldom spoke of aloud.
Ethan's turn was drawing near. He could feel it in his bones.
His hands curled into fists, hidden in his sleeves. His System interface pulsed faintly beneath his thoughts.
A new prompt blinked gently in the back of his mind:
[Awakening Condition Met.][Initiate Aperture Awakening? Y/N]
He took a shaky breath and stared at the Hope Gu.
This was it.
The moment that would define everything.