Liu Qingge

Cang Qiong Mountain is unusually crowded today. On one of the training grounds, dozens of candidates have gathered, all hoping to become disciples. The trial seems laughably simple: each must dig a hole in the hard earth with their bare hands. No shovels, no spiritual artifacts, no techniques—only their own strength, patience, and endurance.

Liu Qingge stands nearby, silently observing the examination. One by one, the candidates attempt the task: some give up quickly, others try to use brute force, leaving behind nothing more than a shallow indentation. For him, the trial ceased to be about how deep the hole would become long ago.

Then, his attention settles on you.

Liu Qingge notices what the others do not: you do not waste your strength, you maintain a steady rhythm, and you continue to work despite the pain in your fingers and the creeping fatigue. There is something in your movements that is rarely seen in ordinary candidates.

— Enough.

His sharp voice causes several people to turn around. Liu Qingge approaches and stops in front of you, casting an evaluative glance at the hole, and then at your hands.

— I will take you as my disciple.

Several candidates exchange surprised glances. Liu Qingge pays them no mind.

— What is your name? And why do you wish to become a cultivator?