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Chapter 5: Dusthaven

  All the children were eager.

  They had gathered at the village center before dawn, five families with five children who had passed the spiritual root test three weeks ago. The air was cold and the sky was still dark, and everyone was wrapped in their warmest clothes.

  This time, two new people had come from the Barched Wind Sect. A boy and a girl, both around eighteen or nineteen, and they looked like something out of a painting. The boy was tall with sharp features and hair tied back in a neat knot, while the girl had a face so delicate she could have been carved from jade. Their robes were white with pale blue trim, cleaner than anything Yan Qiu had ever seen, and they moved with a grace that made the villagers seem clumsy by comparison.

  The children came slowly, one by one, with their parents trailing behind them. Some of the mothers were crying already, wiping their eyes with the corners of their sleeves. The fathers stood stiff and silent, trying to look strong for their sons and daughters.

  Then came the Yan couple as well.

  Yan Qiu walked between his parents with his small bundle of belongings slung over his shoulder.

  Old Grandmother Sun had come to see them off, leaning on her walking stick. Uncle Liu stood nearby with his arms crossed and nodded at Yan Qiu when their eyes met. The Zhao family was there too, and even Village Chief Wang had come out despite the early hour.

  "Qiu," his mother said quietly, pulling him aside for a moment. "Do you remember the Wei family daughter? The one who brought you those little shoes when you were born?"

  Yan Qiu thought about it. He had heard the name before, but he could not picture her face. "I think so. Why?"

  "She went to the Barched Wind Sect," Luo Qin said. "The same year you were born. She was ten at the time, and she passed their trials." She paused and looked at the two sect disciples standing near the carriages. "I did not want to tell you before, in case it made you more nervous. But now that you are going, I thought you should know. She is still there, as far as I have heard. Maybe you will see her"

  Yan Qiu stared at his mother, someone from Blackroot had actually made it into the sect. Someone who had once held him as a baby, who had stitched those tiny crooked shoes with her own hands. It made the whole thing feel more real somehow, like the path ahead was not just a dream.

  "I will look for her," he said.

  His mother smiled and squeezed his hand.

  The sect apprentices began reading out names one by one.

  "Chen Bao."

  A boy stepped forward with his parents, and the female disciple gestured toward one of the three carriages waiting on the road. The boy climbed in, and his mother burst into tears as the door closed behind him.

  "Li Mei."

  A girl this time, thin and pale, clutching a small cloth bag to her chest. She bowed to her parents before walking to the carriage.

  "Wang Jun."

  "Zhao Ling."

  And finally, "Yan Qiu."

  He stepped forward. His father placed a hand on his shoulder, heavy and warm, and his mother leaned down to press her forehead against his.

  "Remember what we talked about," Yan Zhuo said quietly. "Think before you act, work hard. I hope you will make us proud."

  "I will," Yan Qiu said. His voice came out smaller than he wanted. He was not sure what else he could have said.

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  "We will be here when you come back," Luo Qin whispered. "No matter what happens. We will always be here."

  Yan Qiu nodded. He looked at his mother's bare hair where the jade hairpin used to sit. He wanted to tell her that he would make it worth it, that he would pass the trials and become a cultivator and repay everything they had sacrificed.

  He turned and walked toward the carriage.

  For most of the children, it was the first time riding in a carriage.

  The inside was simple, just wooden benches with thin cushions and a small window covered by a cloth flap. Yan Qiu sat across from Chen Bao and Li Mei, and none of them spoke. The carriage lurched forward, and Blackroot began to shrink behind them.

  Yan Qiu pulled the cloth flap aside and looked out the window. His parents were still standing where he had left them, two small figures growing smaller with every turn of the wheels. His mother raised her hand, and his father stood motionless beside her.

  He watched until he could not see them anymore.

  He was leaving everything he had ever known. His home, his parents, the village where he had spent his entire life. He did not know when he would see them again, or if he would see them again, because he still had to pass the final trial in Dusthaven.

  The carriage rattled on, and Yan Qiu sat back against the bench and closed his eyes.

  They passed through a dense forest. The air smelled of damp earth and rotting leaves. Inside the carriage, the children did not speak to each other despite being from the same village.

  The forest thinned and gave way to rocky hills, then to mountains on either side of the road. The path wound between them, climbing steadily, until it crested a ridge and Dusthaven came into view.

  Yan Qiu leaned forward.

  The city filled the valley between two mountain ridges. Dusthaven was not large compared to the great cities in stories, but to Yan Qiu it seemed endless. Curved rooftops stretched in every direction, their eaves upturned toward the sky. Pale stone walls surrounded the city, and pagodas rose above the buildings in the distance. Smoke drifted up from cooking fires, and he could see people moving through the streets far below.

  The carriage rolled through the main gate, and the noise hit him first. Vendors shouting prices, cart wheels on cobblestones, children laughing somewhere out of sight. The streets were crowded with people wearing clothes of every color, reds and blues and greens and yellows, fabrics that looked soft and expensive compared to the rough brown cloth of Blackroot. Some carried baskets on their backs, others pushed carts loaded with goods, and a few rode horses that looked better fed than most of the villagers back home.

  Chen Bao pressed his face against the window. "There are so many people."

  Li Mei said nothing, but her eyes were wide.

  Yan Qiu watched the city pass by. A woman selling steamed buns from a wooden cart. A group of children chasing each other through an alley. An old man sitting on a stool outside a tea house, smoking a long pipe.

  The city felt much more alive than his village. It was as if he entered a completely different world.

  The carriage turned down a wider street, and the crowd parted to let them through. People glanced at the sect symbol on the carriage doors and stepped aside, some bowing their heads as the wheels rolled past.

  "We are almost there," the female disciple called from outside.

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