As the first light of morning crept over the jagged skyline of TyLing City, golden rays spilled through the narrow gaps between steel towers and shimmering glass. Below, the streets buzzed to life. Buses hissed as they pulled up to crowded terminals, their doors clattering open for half-asleep commuters. Neon signs flickered off as cafés prepared the first brews of the day. Somewhere nearby, a food vendor shouted over the hum of traffic, offering hot dumplings to passing students in navy-blue uniforms.
Inside a cramped dorm room nestled against the east wing of TyLing Academy, an alarm buzzed relentlessly. The shrill, high-pitched tone cut through the muffled din outside, a synthetic cry for attention that refused to be ignored.
Ryu groaned.
Seventeen years old, perpetually exhausted, and operating on energy drink fumes, he rolled over and buried his face into the pillow like it could somehow rewind time. The alarm clock blinked in harsh red: 07:15.
He had forty-five minutes until his first lecture.
"Shit, again?!" he muttered, his voice hoarse and dry from sleep. He sat up with a jolt, kicking off tangled sheets as he scrambled to his feet.
The room was chaos, a single bed shoved into the corner, a cluttered desk overflowing with loose notes and notebooks, a cracked tablet screen half-buried under an old hoodie. Dirty laundry formed a sad hill near the bathroom door.
Still half-asleep, Ryu stumbled through the morning routine like a soldier on autopilot. He grabbed a shirt from the floor, and decided it was wearable enough. Socks were a nightmare, he mismatched them twice before giving up and stuffing his feet into worn-out sneakers. He nearly brushed his teeth with face wash, caught himself just in time, then spat into the sink while mentally calculating how fast he'd have to run to make it on time.
No breakfast. Again.
He tossed his notebook into his half-zipped backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and ran out the door, hair sticking out in every possible direction. The door slammed behind him with a thud, leaving his dorm in an even worse state than before.
By the time he burst into class, breathless and just a few minutes late, most of the students were already settled. His lecturer, a tall, no-nonsense man with wire-rimmed glasses, barely looked up from his tablet.
"You're late, Ryu," he said dryly. "File 3, page 360 on the shared drive. Take a seat."
Ryu nodded sheepishly and slid into a chair near the back, already dreading the rest of the day.
The teacher stood at the front of the class, tapping on the display board as he spoke. "Today, we'll be learning about the old veins of cultivation," he began. "These were channels used to harness earth and heaven energy essential for forming one's spirit pool and gaining enhanced physical and mental abilities."
He continued, explaining that according to ancient texts, a cultivator had to undergo a process of transformation tempering the body in stages to adapt to this powerful energy. Without it, the body would be overwhelmed and unable to withstand the flow of spirit energy.
Cultivation begins with Mind Tempering. Once the mind is refined and strengthened, a cultivator can progress through the following stages: Body Tempering, Bone Tempering, Viscera Tempering, Blood Tempering, and finally, Soul Tempering. These form the foundational six stages, often referred to as the Six Soul Stages.
Upon completing these, a cultivator enters the Practitioner's Stage, the first true step onto the Martial Dao.
According to the ancient texts, there are nine sub-stages within the Practitioner's Stage. Once all nine are mastered, the cultivator can break through to the Elemental Stage, where one gains a spiritual affinity and a bonded element. From there, advancement leads to the Ascension Stage, marking the threshold between mortal and immortal. Beyond that lies the elusive Transcendence Stage, a level so profound that many believe the Divine Void Emperor himself had surpassed even this.
Cultivators of old relied on Earth and heaven energy, a powerful force said to flow like invisible rivers across the world. It was by tapping into these spirit veins that they extended their lives for centuries, or even millennia, and attained powers once thought divine.
The classroom was quiet, save for the rhythmic tapping of the lecturer's stylus on the digital board. The soft hum of ventilation and the occasional rustle of papers filled the air until the teacher finally spoke, his voice firm yet relaxed.
"Alright, before we finish," he said, glancing around the room, "I hope you all remember the field trip happening in two days. It's scheduled to run over the weekend, so make sure you're packed and prepared. We're visiting the Old Emperor's Ruins, a significant site in ancient cultivation history. Attendance is mandatory."
Ryu blinked, his pen frozen mid-note. The words field trip this weekend echoed louder than they should have.
He leaned sideways, lowering his voice. "Wait... that's this weekend?"
Beside him, Soka grinned like a kid about to open a gift. "You forgot? Seriously?" he whispered. "Dude, three days out of the city. Ruins, legends, no lectures. How could you forget that?"
Ryu sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I've been reviewing exams and organizing notes. Trip prep kinda fell off my radar."
"Well, get hyped," Soka said, nudging his elbow. "They say people have had spiritual insights just by standing near the ruins. Some even say the site heals injuries or whispers secrets from the past."
Ryu gave him a dry look. "You'd believe a rock was magical if someone wrapped it in velvet and called it a sacred relic."
Soka chuckled and shrugged. "Hey, the legends had to come from somewhere. A few of those ancient scrolls they unearthed are thousands of years old."
"True," Ryu admitted, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Still, I bet it's mostly weathered stone and overgrown moss."
"Which still beats another weekend in the study halls," Soka replied, tossing a wink in his direction.
The class bell rang, soft but final. Students rustled to pack up, and Ryu stood, carefully tucking his tablet into his bag.
"I've got to run," he said, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "Later, Soka."
Soka gave him a casual two-finger salute. "Don't forget to pack your sense of wonder."
Ryu rolled his eyes but couldn't help the faint grin that stayed with him as he jogged out of the classroom, half-excited, half-dreading the idea of spending an entire weekend hiking around ancient ruins.
After class, Ryu made his way to the outdoor training fields behind the academy. He didn't participate in the martial drills, he was far too shy for that, but he loved to observe. From a shaded bench near the edge of the grounds, he watched students go through complex movements: fluid stances, powerful strikes, and seamless transitions between techniques.
As they moved, Ryu took detailed notes, sketching out poses and jotting down theories. He wasn't just copying, he was analysing, breaking down each move into its mechanics. In his mind, he was already formulating his own style, something efficient, balanced, and uniquely his.
Though a genius academically, Ryu was below average when it came to physical exertion. His stamina was lacking, his coordination sometimes clumsy, but he still tried to train his body late at night, when no one was around to watch. Quietly, persistently, he worked at improving himself.
By evening, exhausted from a day of study and quiet observation, he returned to his dorm flat. He boiled a pack of shin ramen, topped it with spring onion, a soft-boiled egg, and a few crispy-bottomed gyozas, his little ritual after a long day.
The next day passed quickly, with another lecture about the ancient world veins and their significance in cultivation history. The professor explained how the convergence points of these veins, where several lines of Earth and heaven energy intersected, were considered sacred sites for cultivation.
One of the greatest of these sites, according to historical records, was the very location of the Emperor's Palace. It sat atop a rare seven-point vein origin, connecting to the most powerful spirit veins on the continent. This, they believed, was how the Divine Void Emperor had risen to such unparalleled heights.
Ryu left his lecture in a rush, eager to catch the final moments of the academy's martial arts tournament, a highly anticipated event where the top fighters from across the collective kingdoms competed for the coveted top spot. The final four were set to battle it out, and the entire campus buzzed with excitement.
As Ryu hurried through the crowded corridors toward the tournament grounds, he accidentally bumped into a group of three men. Unbeknownst to him, one of them had just lost a substantial amount of money betting on the earlier match. The loss had rattled the man's composure, and his mental state was rapidly unravelling.
Already agitated and teetering on the edge, the sudden collision with Ryu was the spark that tipped him over into full-blown aggression.
Ryu immediately stepped forward to apologize, instinctively bowing his head. "Sorry, I didn't see you."
Polite to a fault, he assumed it was nothing more than a minor accident. A bump in a hallway. Nothing unusual.
But as the man turned, Ryu froze.
There was something wrong. Deeply wrong.
The man's face twisted into a snarl, not just angry, but unhinged. Bloodshot eyes glared without focus, twitching ever so slightly at the corners. His lips peeled back in a crooked grin that didn't reach his eyes, revealing a single sharp tooth jutting unnaturally over his bottom lip, just enough to catch the light.
His breath reeked of smoke and bitterness, and he moved with a jittery edge, like his body was seconds away from snapping into violence.
Ryu's instincts screamed at him to step back, but his feet didn't move.
His breath hitched.
He realized, far too late, that he was in trouble.