In a small, dilapidated building, a boy about 14 years old lay on a creaky bed.

  Shī Héng Yì, the boy in question, slowly rose from his sleep, his eyes unfocused.

  Leaning against the side of the bed, he rubbed his eyes, his body trembling slightly as he stepped onto the floor.

  Feeling something familiar, he glanced down and sighed. “Flood again, huh?”

  Unbothered, he waded through the shallow water pooling across the floor and made his way to the desk. Picking up a cloth, he headed for the door, his feet still submerged.

  Outside his room, he bent down and grabbed a broken bucket lying on the ground. Bucket in hand, he began walking towards the nearby river, picking some fruit from bushes along the way.

  When he reached the stream, Shī Héng Yì set the bucket down and began removing his tattered clothes.

  As each piece came off, scars and bruises were revealed across his thin, malnourished body. Some wounds were fresh, still oozing faint traces of blood. Despite this, his expression remained indifferent, as though he’d long grown used to the sight.

  First his top, then his trousers—he stripped in mere seconds. His thin frame looked fragile, but there was a steely resolve in his posture that betrayed his physical state.

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  Moving into the stream, he submerged himself with a cloth in hand, letting the cold water shock his senses awake. Faint streaks of blood trailed down his back and into the current, but Shī Héng Yì ignored the sting of his wounds. Carefully, methodically, he scrubbed every part of his body, the cloth sliding over skin both scarred and tender.

  Next, he took his worn top and soaked it in the river. Rubbing it together gently, he cleaned off the dirt and grime without risking tearing the already fragile fabric. He repeated the process with his pants, each motion practised and deliberate.

  Once done, he wrung the clothes out, placed them in the bucket, and began the walk back to his small cabin. Naked but unfazed, he didn’t bother worrying about who might see him. The path was isolated, and even if someone did pass by, Shī Héng Yì wouldn’t care. He had no energy for embarrassment.

  Back at his cabin, he paused outside and hung the wet clothes on a line fashioned from old ropes. The morning sun glinted weakly off the water still pooled on the ground, but Shī Héng Yì paid it no mind.

  inside, he retrieved his only other set of clothes—a simple light green robe with black trousers. Though worn and covered in patches, they were in better shape than the ones he’d been wearing.

  After drying himself with a smaller cloth, he slipped into the fresh outfit and pulled on a battered pair of shoes. Standing by the doorway, he glanced up towards the hill in the distance.

  He sighed.

  Today was a special day—one that would determine the futures of every 14-year-old in the village. It was the day of the aptitude test.

  For those with outstanding aptitudes, life could change dramatically, whether they were born into wealth or poverty. For better or for worse, this test was pivotal.

  Shī Héng Yì’s expression remained calm, almost detached. He hadn’t shown much emotion all day, and now was no different.

  Taking a deep breath, he began circulating the faint spiritual essence within his body. Then, with a burst of speed, he dashed up the hill, the cold morning breeze brushing against his scarred skin.