"…Then he told me the truth," the old man said, his voice finally steadying.
"He couldn't revive me—not the way I hoped. But he offered me one last chance."
He lifted his hand, a faint light flickering in his palm.
"He sealed my will and created a new bloodline—the Heavenly Reverse Bloodline. One child, born with our people's blood, would carry on the legacy."
He paused, the weight of years in his eyes.
"For two thousand years, I watched over that child. He was one of us… and yet, he walked the path of a cultivator. That alone was hard enough to watch."
The old man turned away, jaw clenched.
"Learning those arts—poison, shortcuts, fake power… it felt like watching our enemy raise one of our own. But he became strong. Grew into a man."
He gave a short, dry laugh.
"By then, everything was gone. Our homes, our stories, our history… erased. Terra was no longer Terra. Just another piece of land claimed by the cultivators."
He glanced down, then met Yantian's gaze again.
"One record survived. Just a children's tale, barely more than a myth. It spoke of a fallen god, from a world long destroyed."
Yantian sat silent, but something deep inside him stirred. The stories of strength, of earning your power, of standing tall with your fists—it was like a buried memory coming alive.
"We were martial artists," the old man continued. "We trained our bodies, our bones, our blood. No pills, no tricks. We fought with what we built ourselves."
He clenched his fist.
"We didn't hide behind arrays or formations. We didn't take shortcuts. Every scar, every breath of strength—we earned it."
Finally, he let out a sigh and looked hard at Yantian. Something in his gaze had shifted.
"I was right. It really is you."
"Huh?" Yantian blinked, confused.
The old man nodded slowly. "hahaha…. The heavens."
"What do you mean?" Yantian asked, his voice unsteady.
"That familiar qi I sensed earlier—it came from you,"
the old man said.
"It makes sense now. The boy I watched… he must've settled down somewhere. Built a family. Over time, that became the Xu clan."
He studied Yantian more closely.
"It seems You carry the purest trace of our bloodline. That's why you could awaken me. How is that possible?"
"Unles—-
Even though he could hear him. It's as if all the words are blocked out.
Yantian struggled to reply.
"…Which means," the old man added quietly, "he failed his mission too."
"What mission?" Yantian asked, barely above a whisper.
The old man's voice turned cold.
"The one our people died for."
AVENGE THE DEATHS OF OUR MOTHERS, FATHERS, BROTHERS, SISTERS AND CHILDREN.
RECLAIM OUR HOME.
The air turned heavy. Yantian could feel it pressing down, cold and ancient.
"And now," the old man said, "the mission falls to you."
Yantian looked down, fists clenched tight.
"But… why me?" he muttered.
"I'm just a failure. A screw-up."
"I don't know your life," the old man replied, gentle but firm. "And I won't judge you. But failure isn't the end. It's a choice."
Yantian's heart pounded. Inside, it felt like something was breaking apart—and being remade.
He looked up, voice steady.
"…please let me join the mission."
The old man watched him for a long moment—then smiled, proud.
"Good," he said. "Then carry this."
From his chest, he pulled out a scroll and handed it to Yantian. Bold words burned across the front:
[The Martial Path]
"This record holds the Ten Stages of the Martial Path," he said. "Not cultivation. Martial arts. The true way."
Yantian accepted it with both hands, reverence in his touch.
"We don't absorb spiritual qi," the old man continued. "We train our bodies to the limit. We absorb star energy, form star paths, and evolve step by step."
He paused, scanning Yantian from head to toe.
"…Hm. So you've already severed your old path."
"What?" Yantian asked, startled.
The old man nodded, satisfied. "Your dantian is clean. No spiritual qi—just pure, natural power."
Yantian's eyes widened. He hadn't realized.
"But… you didn't die. That's the power of our bloodline. Your body didn't collapse—it returned to what it should be."
He stepped closer, voice softer.
"And that's not all. Your nei and hu points clearly seem open."
"…What does that mean?"
The old man grinned, a rare warmth in his eyes.
"It means you're the first in our history to awaken those points without training. Not even the Seven Martial Gods managed that. You've got more talent than any of us ever did."
He let out a booming laugh, clapping Yantian on the shoulder.
"You're not just our final descendant. You're our best chance."