The elder, dressed in flowing Daoist robes, nodded at the clan leader's command and moved to carry out his task.
Wang Ming and the other thirty-nine candidates were soon led to a shallow pool filled with shimmering, clear water. The elder gestured toward the pool and spoke with a steady, authoritative tone.
"Enter the pool together. Stay as long as you can endure, but do not overestimate your limits, or you risk crippling your foundation."
The candidates bowed respectfully before stepping into the pool, their movements synchronized yet hesitant. Wang Ming, without any hesitation, waded into the water, which barely reached a meter in depth. He lowered himself into it, lying back with only his face above the surface. Closing his eyes, he allowed his thoughts to drift.
**"This is the third test, one that measures innate talent.
There are five ranks, from the lowest, Rank One, to the highest, Rank Five. The higher one's talent rank, the greater their potential for absorbing spiritual energy.
Rank One: ten breaths.
Rank Two: twenty breaths.
Rank Three: thirty breaths.
Rank Four: forty breaths.
Rank Five: fifty breaths.
This ranking defines the potential ceiling for most formation masters. Though rare, a few exceptional individuals can surpass this limit during their apprenticeship, but beyond that stage, innate talent becomes an unchangeable barrier.
In the Wang Clan, it has been two centuries since a Rank Four talent emerged the current clan leader himself. In my past life, I held a Rank Three talent, one seen as promising enough for the higher-ups to nurture me as a future elder-level figure. Such talent is unalterable, and I doubt my circumstances have changed."**
With this thought, Wang Ming steadied his breathing, letting the dense spiritual energy press against his body.
After just ten breaths, twelve of the forty candidates staggered out of the pool, their faces pale and their bodies trembling. Another ten breaths passed, and twenty-five more followed, unable to withstand the increasing pressure.
Only three figures, including Wang Ming, remained in the pool.
The elder overseeing the test gestured for the other candidates to line up silently, his sharp eyes fixed on the three remaining in the water. His gaze never wavered as he began to count.
"Twenty-two breaths...
Twenty-five breaths...
Twenty-nine breaths...
Thirty breaths..."
At the thirty-breath mark, the remaining three figures, their faces flushed and brows furrowed, finally opened their eyes. The spiritual energy, once welcoming, now actively repelled them, pushing against their minds and threatening to crush their consciousness.
Understanding the danger, Wang Ming stood and calmly exited the pool, his soaked robes clinging to his form. Beside him, the other two survivors a boy and a girl did the same. Wang Ming glanced at them briefly.
"Wang Shui, the only son of the Fourth Elder.
Wang Mei, the only daughter of the Seventh Elder."
The elder approached the trio, his usually stern expression tinged with a rare hint of excitement.
"Come to the clan hall tomorrow. You three performed exceptionally well today. Now, return and rest."
With a wave of his sleeve, he dismissed them, his eyes lingering a moment longer on their retreating figures before turning to address the remaining candidates.