Chương 108: 107. The Trash-Collection Campaign Has Officially Expanded

I do not react outwardly to the murmurs. That is one of the useful skills age gives a sect leader. When people complain, speculate, flatter, insult, or attempt to predict your decision based on the angle of your eyebrow, the correct response is often to let them waste their own breath. Inwardly, I send the first sound transmission.

'Remember. Wait until my command.' Wei Chen's grin widens by a fraction. The first applicant steps forward before I call a name, which tells me several things immediately. He wants to appear confident. He wants the crowd to see him as decisive. He also wants to establish himself before the order of testing removes whatever advantage he thinks he has. He is well dressed in the carefully restrained way of someone pretending not to be well dressed. The cloth is plain, but too finely woven. He bows.

"This one is Chen Rui," he says.

"A distant branch member of a minor household. I ask Coiling Dragon Sect for the chance to prove my sincerity." The Gaze answers before he finishes speaking. Spy Applicant - Qi Condensation (Second Stage) Name: Liu Cheng Age: 18 Spirit Root: Fire (C-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: Qi Condensation (Second Stage) - Stable Verdict: False applicant using an assumed name. Trained more carefully than his background suggests.

Sent to observe Coiling Dragon Sect's internal training methods and identify worthwhile inheritances. I look at the young man who is not named Chen Rui. In a normal recruitment test, he would be a desirable candidate. A C-grade root is not something a minor sect casually discards. Qi Condensation Second Stage at eighteen means his family did not neglect him as thoroughly as his clothes are trying to imply.

His control is good, his posture measured, and his expression carries the right mixture of humility and hunger. He is exactly the sort of person a desperate sect might convince itself it could reform later.' Fail him,'I transmit to Wei Chen.' Hard.' Wei Chen's shoulders settle. The applicant steps into the testing space and bows toward him.

"Senior Brother Wei," he says politely. Wei Chen looks delighted.

"I like being called that."

"Enough. Begin!" His first step is clean, weight landing softly without waste. His qi remains mostly hidden, but not clumsily so. He advances with a palm strike aimed at Wei Chen's shoulder, likely intending to demonstrate force without appearing too aggressive. If Wei Chen retreats, he proves himself. If Wei Chen blocks, he can show control. If Wei Chen counters, he can lose respectably and claim he tested himself against Coiling Dragon's rising body cultivator. For one breath, he looks impressive.

Wei Chen gives him enough space to look impressive. He leans backward, letting the palm pass near his shoulder. The applicant changes angle, follows smoothly, and moves into a second strike with far better timing than most of the crowd can appreciate. Several applicants murmur. One clan representative gives a faint nod, already looking as though the result is obvious. The applicant's palm lands against Wei Chen's chest. Wei Chen activates Iron Body.

The applicant's wrist bends in a way wrists are not intended to bend. His face loses color at once. He staggers back, clutching his arm against his chest, and the controlled humility on his face breaks into pain before he can repair it. Wei Chen looks down at his own chest, then at the applicant. Then he lifts one hand and cleans his ear with his smallest finger.

"That all?" The young man's expression flickers through pain, anger, calculation, and then outrage prepared for public use. His mouth opens. I speak first.

"Failed. Next." His head snaps toward me.

"Sect Leader Lu, I—" Jun is already there. He appears at the applicant's side with the quiet timing of someone who has been waiting for exactly this moment. Mei Lin approaches from the other direction, calm and polite enough that refusing her would make the applicant look unreasonable in front of everyone.

"You should have that wrist treated," Mei Lin says.

"I have not finished—""You have," Jun says. Together, they guide him away with the sort of courtesy that makes refusal difficult and public argument embarrassing. The applicant looks once toward the blue-robed clan representative, but the man has suddenly become very interested in the sleeve of his own robe. The crowd becomes quieter. The next applicant is already pale before stepping forward. She is small, around fourteen, with a patched gray outer robe and shoes that have been repaired at least three times.

Her hair is tied back unevenly, and she holds her hands too tightly in front of her.

"Name," I say gently. She startles anyway.

"R-Ren Xiaolu." The Gaze settles over her. Recruit Applicant - Mortal Name: Ren Xiaolu Age: 14 Spirit Root: Water (D-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: None Verdict: A sincere applicant from West River Village seeking a cultivation opportunity. Low talent, but no hidden orders, clan attachment, or malicious intent. Teachable if given a proper foundation. She nearly trips on the way into the testing space. Wei Chen stares down at her. Ren Xiaolu looks up at him.

The silence stretches long enough that several people in the crowd begin to shift uncomfortably. Someone near the back whispers that the test is cruel. Someone else whispers that perhaps the girl should withdraw before embarrassing herself. I send the transmission before she moves.' Pass.' Wei Chen blinks once. I can almost feel the question trying to form in his head. Ren Xiaolu takes a breath. She squeezes her eyes half-shut, steps forward, and pushes both hands against Wei Chen's chest. Nothing happens.

She pushes harder. Her face turns red with effort. Her shoes slide slightly in the dirt. Wei Chen does not move. Not even his sleeve shifts. Several people in the crowd begin whispering again. Someone laughs under their breath. I wait. Wei Chen, apparently deciding that subtlety is a disease other people suffer from, suddenly jerks backward as though struck by a charging bull.

"Oof," he says. Far too late. Ren Xiaolu stumbles forward because the thing she had been pushing against has abruptly retreated. Her eyes open wide in complete confusion. I close my own for one brief moment and resist the urge to face-palm.

'Wei Chen. Believable. Make it believable.' Wei Chen cannot answer through sound transmission. Instead, he brushes the front of his robe, nods with great seriousness, and looks at Ren Xiaolu as though she has revealed a profound secret.

"Good strike." Ren Xiaolu stares at him, and the crowd erupts.

"She barely touched him!"

"He moved after she stopped!" Wei Chen turns toward the crowd and scratches his ear.

"I felt it." A middle-aged man near the front looks personally offended.

"Felt what?"

"The technique. It focused the force at the tip of her fingers to penetrate through my defenses. The concept is called Fa Jin." Jun lets out an audible sigh beside me. Ren Xiaolu looks in shock.

"I-I did?" I speak before the discussion can become about Wei Chen's acting ability.

"Passed. Next." The crowd does not quiet. The earlier murmurs had been uncertain. These are offended, suspicious, and confused in equal measure. A few people look at me as though waiting for an explanation. Several clan representatives exchange glances, no doubt trying to decide whether they have misunderstood the test or whether Coiling Dragon's standards are even stranger than rumored. They are not entirely wrong. Ren Xiaolu remains in the testing space, frozen between several possible instincts.

Mei Lin reaches her first.

"Come with me," she says quietly. Mei Lin guides her toward the side where accepted candidates are meant to stand. At the moment, that area contains no one else. This appears to frighten Ren Xiaolu more than failing would have. She stands there clutching the edge of her sleeve and staring at the ground, while Xiao Zei watches her from the post with open curiosity. The next dozen tests continue in a similar rhythm, although calling it a rhythm may be too generous to everyone involved.

Some applicants have no spiritual root. For those, I fail them without hesitation. A boy of fifteen throws himself at Wei Chen with enough sincerity to make his father cover his mouth in the crowd. He has strong legs from farm work, good balance, and the kind of stubbornness that would make him useful in almost any mortal labor crew. He pushes against Wei Chen's side until his face reddens and his arms tremble, but there is no qi to awaken, no root to nourish, no cultivation path for the sect to guide.'

Gentle,' I transmit. Wei Chen lets the boy exhaust himself. The boy falls to one knee, breathing hard, and looks up with humiliation already gathering in his eyes.

"Failed," I say. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. His father flinches more than he does. I do not enjoy it. I also do not indulge the guilt. The sect cannot spend pills, food, housing, and instruction on people who have no cultivation path. Still, when the Gaze shows useful qualities, I do not discard them entirely. A young woman steps forward with no root.

The Gaze shows literacy, basic arithmetic, and experience keeping accounts for a grain store. I send Jun a quiet transmission.

'Name to Shen Qiao. Possible ledger work.' Jun gives the faintest nod. The failures continue. One woman in her late twenties steps forward with a calm smile and patched robes arranged carefully enough that I immediately distrust them. She claims to be a wandering cultivator seeking stability after years of poor fortune. The Gaze disagrees.

Spy Applicant - Qi Condensation (Third Stage) Name: Qiu Yan Age: 27 Spirit Root: Wood (D-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: Qi Condensation (Third Stage) - Concealed Verdict: Verdant Willow Sect agent posing as a wandering cultivator seeking stability. Intends to enter Coiling Dragon Sect under a false background, identify sect manuals, training methods, internal defenses, and report unusual disciples. She bows well. Her smile is modest.

Her eyes move across the training yard with the practiced restraint of someone pretending not to measure distances.' Fail,' I send. Wei Chen does not bother to let her look good. When she moves, he shifts aside just enough that her foot lands in mud. She tries to recover with dignity and nearly succeeds before his hand closes gently around her wrist. He smiles. She stops moving. A few people in the crowd laugh, which is unfortunate for her and useful for me.

"Failed," I say.

"Next." Fail. Fail. Fail. Wei Chen becomes a wall for them all. Sometimes he lets applicants strike him and discover that's a terrible idea. Sometimes he sidesteps and allows them to fall on their own momentum. Sometimes he catches a wrist, a sleeve, or the back of a collar and holds the applicant in place while smiling until they stop struggling. He behaves as though the entire trial exists for his personal entertainment.

I stand behind him and begin to understand, with reluctant admiration, that Wei Chen is extremely good at playing the villain. The kind of obnoxious senior disciple every rejected applicant can hate without thinking too hard about the sect leader standing quietly behind him. Then Han Yiru steps forward. I remember the name before the Gaze settles over her. Her father sent one of the more careful letters, written in a hand that had clearly taken effort.

Village Head Han had dealt with Coiling Dragon years ago and was hoping it'd have some effect on her chances.. She is fourteen, narrow-shouldered, and dressed in the practical clothing of someone who spends more time near muddy banks than formal halls. Her hands tremble once before stilling. Her eyes keep moving toward the ground, Wei Chen's stance, and the places where previous applicants slipped or fell. The Gaze gives me the rest.

Recruit Applicant - Mortal Name: Han Yiru Age: 14 Spirit Root: Wood (D-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: None Verdict: Herb-gatherer's daughter from East Reed Village with a genuine recommendation from the village head. Sincere, observant, and steady under embarrassment. Shows above-average plant recognition and pays attention to terrain, stance, and repeated patterns. Suitable for outer disciple trial acceptance. Nothing world-shaking. That is fine.

Most of a sect should not require the heavens to make an announcement.' Pass,' I transmit. Han Yiru bows to Wei Chen.

"Please instruct me, Senior Brother." Wei Chen's eyebrows rise a little, perhaps because she sounds like she means it. Then she rushes him with all the force she can gather. She bounces off and falls backward into the mud with a soft, humiliating sound. The crowd reacts with a mixture of pity and secondhand embarrassment. Han Yiru sits there for one breath. Then she gets up. Her face is red, but she bows again.

"Thank you for the instruction." Wei Chen glances toward me. There is doubt in his eyes this time. Not objection, exactly. He saw what everyone else saw, and what everyone saw was a girl with no technique failing to move him by even the width of a fingernail. I say nothing. The order has already been given. Wei Chen sighs as though burdened by the heavens, then takes a step back. Wei Chen points at his own chest.

"The first one was a strike with delayed impact. Very clever." Several people stare at him. Another applicant near the front snaps, "You are only letting girls pass! You womanizing cheat!" Wei Chen's expression brightens and he cracks his knuckles.

"Haaah? Then come forward and see if that's true. I think you'll have a good chance of passing." The applicant takes one step back before remembering the trial has not started for him yet. Wei Chen snorts.

"Thought so." I inwardly rub my forehead.

"Passed," I say. Mei Lin guides Han Yiru toward Ren Xiaolu. The two girls stand beside each other. The next accepted candidate breaks the pattern. Liang Kuan is sixteen and comes from a branch line of a minor cultivator clan on the outskirts of Greenstone. I remember the recommendation letter. It had been very respectful, very restrained, and very clear beneath the ink. Please take him off our hands. He carries himself like someone accustomed to being corrected before he speaks. His robes are clean, but not new.

His posture is stiff in a way that suggests training without confidence. He steps forward immediately, but his eyes already hold the tired acceptance of someone who has failed in advance many times. The Gaze settles over him. Clan Applicant - Qi Condensation (First Stage) Name: Liang Kuan Age: 16 Spirit Root: Metal (F-grade); Earth (B-grade, dormant) Constitution: None Cultivation: Qi Condensation (First Stage) - Unstable Verdict: Branch clan youth sent away after repeated disappointment.

Prior instruction forced a metal-aspected method onto an incompatible deeper earth affinity, suppressing the stronger dormant root and causing stagnation. Requires root reassessment and complete method correction. I do not react. The metal root is weak. That part was true. But beneath it sits something far more potent, suppressed by years of being trained in the wrong direction. Liang Kuan bows.

"Please instruct me." His stance is stiff. He has been taught basics, but without conviction. Everything about him says he expects failure. He strikes Wei Chen with a palm. He strikes again, weaker this time. As though he already knows the outcome and has begun withdrawing from it before the movement is complete.' Pass,' I send. Wei Chen takes one step back. Then he looks down at his own feet as though they have betrayed him.

"Delayed impact," he announces.

"My greatest weakness." A few people groan openly. Liang Kuan stares at him.

"Passed," I say aloud. For the first time since stepping forward, the boy's composure cracks. He looks toward me as though expecting the decision to be corrected. I do not correct it.

"Stand with the accepted candidates." He hesitates, then bows too deeply and walks toward Ren Xiaolu and Han Yiru like this may be taken away from him. Then comes another. Recruit Applicant - Mortal Name: Mo Shun Age: 18 Spirit Root: Fire (D-grade) Constitution: None Cultivation: None Verdict: Laborer's son with no hidden orders, no meaningful clan attachment, and no malicious intent. Older than ideal for a new disciple, but physically steady, honest under humiliation, and unlikely to sour quickly when corrected.

Suitable for outer disciple trial acceptance. That is enough. Mo Shun steps forward, bows, and tries to shove Wei Chen with both hands. His shoes dig into the dirt. His shoulders strain. Wei Chen watches him with the expression of a man wondering whether the attempt will become interesting.' Pass.' Wei Chen stares at him for a moment. Then he slowly takes one step backward.

"You…" Wei Chen says, with great solemnity, "moved me with your sincerity." This time even Mei Lin looks away. Mo Shun looks in shock, and bows deeply.

"Thank you, Senior Brother." By the time the testing ends, more than fifty applicants have attempted the trial, and four have passed as disciples. Several sincere but rootless candidates have been redirected quietly toward Shen Qiao for possible work. The spies and bad actors have been removed without public accusation. The clan representatives are displeased, which I count as a minor success. The rejected applicants leave with complaints about unfairness, favoritism, and Wei Chen's questionable standards.

They are not wrong. I simply do not care enough to correct them. Once the crowd thins, I turn to the four accepted recruits.

"You have passed the initial trial," I say.

"From today onward, you will enter Coiling Dragon Sect as outer disciples on probation. That means you are not yet full members of the sect. You will be given temporary quarters, basic rules, and initial assessment. Your conduct during the next few months will matter as much as your cultivation." All four listen carefully. Wei Chen stands nearby looking proud of the proceedings, which is not the same as having behaved well during them.

"You will obey senior disciples assigned to guide you," I continue.

"You will not enter restricted areas. You will not touch manuals, weapons, pills, formations, or spirit beasts without permission. You will report injuries immediately. You will not conceal outside obligations, clan instructions, debts, grudges, or existing oaths. If any of those matters are discovered later, the consequences will be worse than if you speak now." Ren Xiaolu raises her hand.

"Sect Leader…" I pause.

"Yes?"

"Will there be a spirit root test?" I freeze internally.

'Of course.' Normal sects test roots. Normal sects do not select disciples just off one arbitrary test. The existing disciples have become too used to my judgment. I have become too used to the Gaze. I have gone so long without needing ordinary tools that I nearly forgot ordinary tools were part of ordinary procedure. Outwardly, I nod as though this was always part of the process.

"Of course. I will retrieve the testing gem," I say.

"Wait here." I return to my quarters at a pace that is dignified. Underneath the hidden floorboard where I used to keep all my valuables before I got a storage ring lies one of Coiling Dragon's most valuable old treasures. Spirit Root Detecting Gem - Grade: Medium-High (Damaged) Type: Testing Artifact Effect: Detects the presence and general elemental nature of a spiritual root by producing a corresponding glow.

Due to an unintentional flaw in the gem's original refinement, the brightness and steadiness of the glow also reflect rough root potency, though this secondary reading is inaccurate and easily distorted by dormant roots, mixed roots, improper cultivation methods, or damaged meridians. Verdict: A prized artifact from the previous Sect Leader's reign. Worth several mid-grade spirit stones if repaired and properly maintained.

Current value reduced by a crack along one side, which weakens clarity and increases spirit stone consumption during repeated use. The spirit root detecting gem is smaller than my palm, cloudy white when inactive, with faint veins running through its center like trapped mist. Dust clings to the wrapping. It has been years since the sect used it. Before I awakened the Gaze, this gem represented our ability to make any informed recruitment decision at all.

It could confirm whether someone had a spiritual root and roughly what kind. That alone made it precious. It also costs ten low-grade spirit stones per use. That price is why Coiling Dragon used it sparingly even when it mattered. Ten low-grade stones meant food, repairs, wages, medicine, or part of a manual. Testing every hopeful child had never been possible. We tested only when there was already reason to believe the cost might be worth it. Since awakening the Gaze, I have not used it once.

I hold the gem in my palm and feel the absurdity of it. Once, this was a window into the future. Now it is crude, expensive, incomplete, and still necessary because the sect must look like a sect. So I bring the gem out and head to the new recruits. One by one, I perform the test. Each activation consumes ten low-grade spirit stones. The gem glows pale blue for Ren Xiaolu. It glows green for Han Yiru. It glows red-orange for Mo Shun. Then Liang Kuan steps forward. He looks more tense than the others.

This is familiar ground for him. He has been tested before. He has been disappointed before. He expects the same result and is already preparing himself to receive it politely. I place the gem before him and activate it. The response is weak. A faint metallic gray gathers inside the cloudy stone, thin enough that several people lean forward to see whether the light is truly there. It flickers once, then steadies in the most unimpressive manner possible. Liang Kuan's face falls.

He looks as though he expects the offer of discipleship to be revoked in the next breath. I study the gem with deliberate slowness. In truth, the Gaze has already told me everything. The gem is too crude to reveal the full picture. It sees the weak metal response because that is the easiest thing to touch. It cannot reach the earth root sitting beneath years of improper instruction and stagnant circulation.

"The metal root is weak," I say.

"That much was not mistaken." Liang Kuan lowers his eyes. I let the sentence settle before continuing.

"But it is not your only root." He looks up.

"There is an earth response beneath it," I say.

"Dormant, but stronger. We will inspect further to determine how to awaken it." For several breaths, no one speaks. Liang Kuan's mouth opens, then closes.

"My… family tested me already."

"They tested what they knew to test," I say.

"That is not the same as testing everything." The words settle over more than just Liang Kuan. Han Yiru and Ren Xiaolu look at the gem differently. Mo Shun looks as if he is trying to understand how a root can hide. After the testing concludes, Mei Lin and Wei Chen lead the four new disciples away to receive temporary quarters, basic rules, and probably the first warning that Coiling Dragon's training is not gentle.

Liang Kuan looks dazed enough that Mo Shun eventually nudges him in the right direction when he nearly turns down the wrong path. The courtyard empties and the gem sits in my hand, faintly warm from use. I return to my quarters and place it back beneath the hidden floorboard. For a moment, I do not cover it. Once, this gem was one of Coiling Dragon's most valuable treasures. A costly little window into whether a child could cultivate. A crude answer to a question that could decide the direction of a life.

Now it is a prop. I cover the floorboard and return to my desk, but I do not resume ordinary paperwork. Instead, I pull out a rough map of the surrounding region. Celestial Jade City had been picked clean because everyone there could afford to look properly. Major sects, cultivator clans, recruitment pavilions, and wealthy families all possessed better tools, better information, and better incentives. Obvious talent rarely stayed hidden there for long. This region is different.

Here, testing is narrow, expensive, incomplete, or absent. A metal clan tests for metal and misses earth like with Liang Kuan. A village might pool money for a single yes-or-no talisman and never test again. Most tests cannot detect dormant secondary roots. Almost none can detect constitutions. The region has been searched with broken lanterns, and everyone has mistaken the darkness for emptiness. I dip my brush and mark the nearest village.

Recruitment is no longer waiting at the gate and hoping someone worthwhile arrives. I stare at the map for a moment, already regretting the work they imply.