23: Chapter 23 Youth Camp

Ling Yuan's head rolled into the dust, yet the aftershocks of the traitor's execution were far from subsiding.

In the ancestral hall's martial arts arena, the heavy scent of blood mingled with a murderous silence, pressing heavily upon the hearts of every member of the Ling Family.

But when they looked up at the youth in green robes standing in the center of the arena, who had withdrawn his gaze and seemed to crush the lingering sound of the word "Slaughter" in the air, that heaviness strangely transformed into a trembling fervor.

Decisive in killing, his words carried the weight of law.

This Young Lord was different now.

Ling Hao felt the change in the gazes of the entire crowd—fear, awe, fanaticism, anticipation... it was complex and indescribable, but it lacked the subtle contempt and pity of the past.

He knew that the blade strike today had severed more than just the traitor's head; it had cut away the decadence and cowardice that had been hovering over the Ling Family.

He turned and nodded slightly to his father and mother, who had already risen on the high platform, as well as the solemn-faced Grand Elder.

Then, his gaze swept past Third Elder Ling Haichuan, who sat slumped in his chair with a sallow complexion, looking as if he had aged ten years in an instant. He did not linger, nor did he offer any shred of comfort.

The price of betrayal was far more than just one life. The power and resources of Third Elder's faction had to be reshuffled. This was the coldness necessary to consolidate authority, and the inevitable growing pain of restructuring the Ling Family. Ling Hao had already made his calculations, but at this moment, there was something more important.

"Ling You," he called out in a low voice. "Speed up the selection process for the Youth Battalion."

"Yes, Young Lord." A ghostly light flashed in Ling You's eyes as he received the order and left.

The night deepened, but Ling Hao felt not a shred of sleepiness.

Inside the study, the candlelight flickered. He leaned over his desk, brush in hand, writing rows of neat regular script on rice paper.

The tip of the brush was not dipped in ink, but in a pale golden liquid—it was a special "Spirit Ink" he had created by diluting his own Origin power, with every drop containing a faint yet pure aura of the Origin.

What he wrote on the paper was the first rule he had established for the soon-to-be-formed [Youth Battalion]:

"First: Those who enter the battalion must be of the Ling Family Bloodline, no older than twelve, possess firm resolve, and have no Spiritual Root."

"Second: Upon entering, one must take an oath to be loyal to the Ling Family and the Young Lord for life. Those who violate this—have their Origin crippled and be expelled from the sect."

"Third..."

When writing the third rule, Ling Hao's brush paused.

The candlelight gave a soft "crack," sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet night. He looked up at the heavy night outside the window, the dancing firelight reflected in his eyes.

Three months.

He had made a promise to his father of three months to have the first Foundation Establishment Cultivator in the Ling Family who did not require a Spiritual Root. This goal was not difficult to achieve; Ling You was already at the Peak of the ninth level of Qi Refining and could attempt Foundation Establishment in at most one month. But what Ling Hao wanted was not just one person.

What he wanted was an army.

An army composed entirely of "Origin Practitioners."

An army sufficient to make Qingyun City, the Nangong Family, and everyone who had mocked the Ling Family shut their mouths for good.

"Third," Ling Hao set his brush down again, his handwriting vigorous and powerful, "The path of cultivation is to act against Heaven. All disciples of my Youth Battalion must prioritize courageous advancement and take the protection of the Ling Family as their duty. Those who shrink back or desert in the face of battle—Slaughter."

The final character "Slaughter" had a brushstroke sharp as a blade.

Putting down the brush, Ling Hao exhaled gently. The cluster of crimson-gold Origin of War in his chest pulsed slowly, pumping a trace of warmth into his limbs and bones, dispelling the chill of the deep night.

"Young Lord." Ling You's voice came from outside the door. "According to your instructions, the list has been drafted."

"Come in."

The door was pushed open, and Ling You walked in holding a scroll, placing it gently on the desk.

"There are forty-seven direct and collateral descendants of the Ling Family under the age of twelve without Spiritual Roots," Ling You reported in a low voice. "I have observed them secretly and initially selected fifteen. These fifteen are either firm in Heart-Nature, enduring the cold glares of the clan without changing their resolve; or they have miserable backgrounds, having lost their parents early yet remaining self-reliant; or... they have secretly approached me, asking if they could follow the Young Lord just like I do."

Ling Hao opened the roster.

On the first page, the first name: Ling Shi.

Beside it was a note in small print: Collateral descendant, eleven years old, parents died in the Yao Beast tide three years ago. He takes care of his six-year-old sister alone, waking up at the Yin hour every day to chop wood and fetch water, attending the clan school to listen in at the Chen hour, and working in the cafeteria at noon to earn a full meal. Once, while protecting his sister from being bullied by the clan's ruffians, he had three ribs broken without shedding a tear.

Ling Hao's gaze lingered on this name for a moment.

"Ling Shi..." he murmured, "Bring him to see me tomorrow."

"Yes."

He continued flipping through.

Ling Yu, direct descendant, ten years old. Her father is a Ling Family deacon, her mother died early. After she was found to have no Spiritual Root at age six, her father remarried, and her stepmother gave birth to a younger brother with a Yellow Rank Medium Grade Spiritual Root. From then on, her status in the Ling Family plummeted; she was often deprived of food and left without coal in winter. Last month, because her brother broke their father's beloved jade pendant, she was framed and punished, kneeling in the snow for two hours until her knees were frostbitten, yet she did not offer a single word of defense.

Ling Feng, collateral descendant, nine years old. Born deaf and mute, he was abandoned by his parents after being found to have no Spiritual Root and was raised by the clan's charity house. He learned to read entirely by peeking under the windows of the clan school, and his handwriting is neater than many disciples who have Spiritual Roots. Three days ago, when the charity house manager embezzled food money, he secretly drew evidence and stuffed it into the crack of the patrolling Elder's door.

Ling Huo, collateral descendant, twelve years old. Fiery personality, often ridiculed by his peers for having no Spiritual Root, fighting and brawling are common occurrences. Last month, to protect a bullied blind old servant, he beat down five Qi Refining second-level disciples by himself, though he also had his nose broken in the process. After being punished, he knelt with his back straight for an entire day.

Name after name, story after story.

Ling Hao read slowly.

These children shared a similar fate to his—born without a Spiritual Root, in this world where status is determined by cultivation, they were branded as "trash" from birth.

But they were also different from him.

He had no Spiritual Root, but at least he was a direct descendant Young Lord, with parents to protect him and no worries about food or clothing. But these children... some had lost both parents, some were abandoned by relatives, and some were struggling to survive at the bottom of the Ling Family.

Yet they did not resign themselves to their fate.

Just like grass growing in the cracks of rocks, even if trampled or ignored, they insisted on growing stubbornly towards the sunlight.

"Fifteen people..." Ling Hao closed the roster. "Tomorrow at the Chen hour, take them to the bamboo forest behind the mountain. I will select them personally."

"Yes." Ling You hesitated for a moment. "Young Lord, selecting ten people at once, will it be... too many? The imparting of the Origin Foundation Establishment Method requires the consumption of your Origin power. Last time you bestowed seeds upon thirteen of us, you were weakened for three days. If it is ten people simultaneously this time..."

"It is no matter," Ling Hao interrupted him. "I have my measure."

He did indeed have his measure.