Cannon fodder in a classic cultivation story

Su Jing opened her eyes to a world of swirling fog and hushed whispers, a persistent ache thrumming through her body. Her throat was raw, her limbs heavy, and a strange, cold orb pulsed in her hands. Around her, blurry shapes coalesced into a crowd of anxious faces, all focused on a stern old man with a long white beard.

"Aish, you, youngster! You shouldn't have over-exhausted your inner Qi like that. Your cultivating vessels and roots are almost wasted now!"

His words cut through the haze, but Su Jing understood little of them. A small, sharp face was reflected in the orb she held, a face she didn't recognize as her own. As she tried to process the scene, another girl, stunningly beautiful with eyes like scattered stars, stepped forward. The old man turned to her, his indifference towards Su Jing palpable. "The root testing is finished, in any case. You can leave now."

Dismissed. Cast aside. The realization settled heavy in her chest. Su Jing was an outsider, a nobody, in a place she didn't understand. Her only option was to walk away, past the jostling crowd, until she found a quiet corner. Whispers followed her: "Feng Zhihao is a shameless one... she thinks she can get to the immortal realm to meet her fiancé, Prince Jin."

Su Jing looked down at her tattered, grey clothes, contrasting sharply with the yellow and purple bruises mottling her skin. Her feet throbbed. The situation wasn't looking good.