Xiamei Province: A Land Divided
In Xiangmei Province, society was divided into three distinct classes:
The rich – the first-class citizens.
The middle – those neither rich nor poor.
The poor – second-class citizens, often treated like they were beneath the soil.
Mr. Li was a retired officer and the head of a large, complicated household. He had more than enough family to last him a lifetime—but still, he was never content. One could say the word "harem" suited him perfectly.
Despite having too much of everything—women, children, wealth—he was never truly poor. Why? Because just as he was greedy in lust, he was greedy with money. A power-drunk man, arrogant and self-absorbed, he lived off the influence he'd earned during his days as a soldier—one who had, by some twist of fate, fought alongside cultivators.
But the truth of his "heroism" was far from noble.
It happened by sheer dumb luck. No one in their right mind would charge into battle against a monstrous, metallic toad that even the cultivators struggled to subdue. But Mr. Li was drunk that night. Deep in the haze of alcohol and nursing the humiliation of a recent demotion, he staggered outside, unaware of the battle raging near the riverbank.
The cultivators shouted for him to get out of the way—he was a distraction. But he took their warnings as an invitation to join them.
Then, fate struck.
Tossed by an explosion of qi, the bottle of liquor he held shattered—its contents splashing directly into the toad's eyes and gaping maw. To everyone's astonishment, the beast began to melt, howling in agony.
Further investigation revealed that the creature's weakness was anything intensely hot or acidic—like alcohol.
And just like that, Mr. Li was hailed as a war hero. He was promoted and named the human messenger to the cultivators. He rode on that reputation like a greedy hawk, amassing power and women as easily as breathing. No one dared question how he had known the beast's weakness. To the people, he was a savior.
He was even made a minister. And as long as money lined your pocket, your petition—no matter how absurd—would be considered. But if you were poor? Good luck. Either find your own justice, or pray for the rare chance a cultivator descended from the mountain.
He sold daughters into fake marriages, gave away children to perverse old men, and manipulated families—all in the name of wealth.
That's how his tenth son came to be.
The Woman by the River
One night, by the river, Mr. Li met a woman.
It was obvious why she was there. And, as usual, his lust took over. But to his surprise, the woman didn't fight back. She didn't flirt or resist like the others. She simply let it happen.
After their passionate encounter, he looked at her—dazzled. She was beautiful. Like a goddess fallen from the heavens.
"Let me take you with me," he said. "Be my wife."
And he meant it. For once, his words were sincere.
But the woman's response made his blood run cold.
"I did it because I wanted to. Not because I believe your beast-slaying tale, or because you're rich."
Her eyes were calm and distant, yet full of something he couldn't name.
"But I really want to—"
"I'll come back to you after seven years," she interrupted. "Take care of me then."
And with that, she vanished.
He never saw her again. And true to his nature, he went back to his wayward life, forgetting both the woman and the moment.
Seven Years Later…
Seven years passed.
A loud knock at his door stirred him from a lust-filled night. His home was extravagant. Each of his many wives had their own quarters, arranged according to his favor. That night, his chosen woman was still lying naked in bed, her only dignity the quilt covering her body.
He staggered to the door and opened it, only to be struck speechless.
It was her. The woman from the river.
She hadn't aged a day.
"I've come as promised," she said softly.
Then, without warning, she pushed a small boy toward him—a child no older than seven.
"Don't let him come out until he's twenty. That's my last request."
And with that, she turned and left.
The Boy in the Basement
Mr. Li, being who he was, locked the boy away.
The child lived in a dark, musty basement. No affection. No sunlight. Just plain water and steamed buns for food. Only a maid, assigned to check in occasionally, gave him the bare minimum attention.
The boy roamed the house only at night, always returning before dawn. For thirteen years, he knew nothing but walls, shadows, and silence.
Until the day he turned twenty.
For once, Mr. Li did something useful—he pulled strings and secured the boy an invitation to Wangshou Academy, using his influence and reputation to dump him into the hands of powerful cultivators.
The day the boy left for the academy was the first time he saw the sun.
He should have felt free. But instead, he walked into another kind of hell.
Life at Wangshou Academy
He tried to find his mother. But it was as if she had never existed—no trace, no record, no name.
Eventually, he gave up.
Despite his handsome looks and youthful appearance, he managed to convince most of the academy that he was just eighteen. Only the Dean and his Master knew better—and they hated him for it.
They looked at him with distaste. Just another stain left behind by a careless, selfish man.
He learned to survive. He learned to endure. His face became emotionless. A wall. A mask.
He often wondered why he was born. He had never asked for life. So why was it so cruel?
Until one day, he was assigned to a group with two girls.
The Spark of Life
It was during the ability testing.
He watched others show off their talents—summoning beasts, shaping energy, wielding spiritual fire. He envied them all. Every single one of them.
Then he saw it.
The Blue Phoenix.
Its feathers shimmered like sapphire flame. And it belonged to a girl named Zhu Wenli.
Another girl, calm and composed, introduced herself as XiMei. She used elemental magic.
And then there was him—assigned to their team only because of his endurance, agility, and silent perseverance during hand-to-hand combat.
He felt useless beside them. Inferior. Worthless.
But then, something strange happened.
He gave a simple suggestion—just words spoken out of concern. And Wenli called him "Teacher."
He thought he misheard.
But then XiMei did the same.
"Teacher LuPeng…"
Over and over again.
They sought his advice. They trusted him. Wenli asked for his opinion before making a move.
It was the first time in his life he felt needed. Wanted. Seen.
That night, after they defeated a low-level demon plaguing the village, he made a vow—to become stronger. Not for himself.
But for them.
The Awakening
He trained endlessly, shocking even the Master who had once dismissed him. He endured pain, heat, suffering—anything, just to live up to their expectations.
He prayed they would go on more missions together.
He lived for their laughter, their arguments, their warmth.
He had never felt alive before.
But now?
Now he did.
And he clung to that feeling with every breath.
He loved it.
And for once in his life…
He gave no shit about anything else.