Chapter 14: I Evaluated My Clan’s Talent Pool and Now I Have Trust Issues

The morning began with optimism.

I wore clean robes. Had proper tea. The sun was shining.

Today, I was going to evaluate the younger disciples personally.

Because, surely, with centuries of martial tradition and the infamous Shen Wuji bloodline, there had to be some hidden geniuses among them.

Right?

…

Right?

“Present the first candidate,” I said confidently.

Aunt Mei ushered in a youth no older than sixteen. Bright-eyed. Serious.

“This is Shen Dou. Fourth-generation outer disciple. He specializes in body tempering techniques.”

“Good,” I nodded. “Demonstrate your skill.”

The boy bowed. Took a deep breath. Then—

Charged at a tree.

Head first.

There was a crunch. A pause. And then:

“…Ow.”

He slid down the bark like a cartoon.

I blinked.

“…That was your technique?”

“Yes, Patriarch! Iron-Headed Determination Style! My uncle says if I keep it up, my skull will evolve!”

I turned to Aunt Mei. “Does… does he have an uncle?”

“No. That might’ve been a concussion.”

Next up: Shen Min. A self-declared “Wind Step Specialist.”

She dashed forward, leapt into the air—and tripped over a rabbit.

The rabbit was fine.

She was not.

Then came Shen Xi, who claimed to be a “fire affinity prodigy.”

He took position. Focused his Qi. Whispered his technique’s name dramatically.

“Ember Dragon Finger—”

Sneezed.

And set his own sleeve on fire.

I watched in increasing horror as:

• A spear user twirled so hard he fell into a pond.
  
  
• A sword cultivator dropped his blade and kicked it into someone’s knee.
  
  
• One disciple tried to throw a pebble using Qi… and accidentally hit himself in the face.
  
  
• Another proudly displayed his “stealth skill,” then tripped over his own shadow and screamed for his mom.
  
  

Two hours in, I pulled Elder Zhang aside.

“Is this… normal?”

He coughed politely. “They’re… still in training, Patriarch.”

“You’ve had ten years.”

“They… were unsupervised for a while.”

“And this is the best we have?”

“Well… our top talents usually go into closed-door training early, or were… uh, recruited by larger sects before your awakening.”

“So we’re left with discount extras from a martial arts blooper reel.”

“I wouldn’t say—”

“Elder Zhang.”

“Yes?”

“One of them just tried to tame a squirrel.”

“…That might actually be a promotion-worthy skill in this clan.”

Three hours later, I called a break. Mostly to stop myself from screaming.

I sat under a tree, rubbing my temples.

“I died, transmigrated, and became Patriarch of a mountain sect held together by tea, fear of my missing grandpa, and false hope.”

One rabbit hopped over and sat next to me.

“I’m not mad at them,” I muttered. “I’m mad at the system.”

The rabbit blinked.

“What kind of clan doesn’t even have a proper grading system for disciples? No performance reports? No rankings? No training evaluations? No mid-year morale reviews? Nothing?!”

It licked its paw.

“This is worse than a Shanghai black ops budget meeting.”

The rabbit promptly fell asleep.

Eventually, Elder Lian brought in Shen Yue — a silent, stoic girl from one of the smallest branches.

“I think she may surprise you,” Elder Lian said.

Shen Yue bowed.

Then performed a precise, elegant sword form.

It was slow. Intentional. Balanced.

No flash.

But no mistakes.

Not a single wasted movement.

I blinked.

“…Oh,” I said softly. “A real cultivator.”

She finished the form, then stepped back without a word.

“Is she… always this silent?”

“She hasn’t spoken in years,” Elder Lian replied.

“…Honestly, she’s the most normal person I’ve met in this clan.”

That night, I lay on the roof, staring at the stars.

“So. Clan has zero elite disciples. Training’s a mess. Talent is a coin toss.”

“One of them used a move called Heavenly Butt Slam. I’m not even kidding.”

I scribbled on a scroll:

Shen Clan Evaluation Summary

• Strength: ✖
  
  
• Technique: ✖
  
  
• Awareness: ✖
  
  
• Explosions: ✔
  
  
• Potential: …maybe
  
  
• Threat to self and others: ✓✓✓✓✓✓✓✓
  
  

“We need a training reform program. A real one. Starting tomorrow.”

And then I paused.

“Or I could fake my death again.”

[End of Chapter 14]