Tianxue Jingjie had five continents. On these continents, countless beasts and races dwelled.
Each of these continents had places deemed the mortal lands by all—but this wasn't a form of discrimination. No, far from it. It was a defense mechanism set up by powerful figures.
You see, not all beings could be great; not all had talent. So what happened to those who couldn't walk the path of cultivation, no matter how hard they tried, whose accomplishments could only be minimal?
For such beings, encountering those of the demonic path—or even ferocious races—was a misfortune that would lead to a gruesome death.
But by dividing these lands and leaving some for the weak to dwell, and making it nearly impossible for beings of higher ranks to trespass—
These were the defense measures put in place by several concerned figures.
With this, they left a path of survival for the weak, creating for them a place where they could at least go about their lives unimpeded.
And as for now, Spark had just been sent to the mortal realm of the southern wastelands—the Barren Desert, which lay east of the Yang Empire, a mortal nation.
…
"Argh!" Spark let out unconsciously as he stirred awake.
'Why does it hurt so much?' he moaned in complaint. It was as though his entire body were being pierced continuously with needles.
The sharp, stinging pain increased the more he moved.
"Huh? Wait, where am I? Did I actually survive those guys?" he marveled in shock.
Opening his eyes, he was first met with a blurry display, which became clearer and clearer as seconds passed.
'Where am I? Wait… was it all a dream?'
The smell of dung and an animalic scent drifted through the air, flooding his lungs.
It turned out he was in what seemed to be a stable of sorts. On the side, he could see horses and bulls roaming around in their stalls, some dipping their heads into haystacks.
He realized he was lying on a makeshift bed composed of hay.
"Ah? You're awake…" a gruff voice attracted his attention.
It was a rugged-looking man—bald, tall, with dark-toned skin. He had an intersecting scar on his left eye, but despite his fierce appearance, his eyes looked sincere, like those of a concerned uncle.
Spark mustered the energy to sit up. Then he realized he was bandaged from head to toe. Touching his face, it seemed it wasn't spared either—apart from his eyes, mouth, hair, and nose, everything else was covered.
As for why he was so tightly bandaged, it was because of how injured he was—which was strange.
His mastery over output might be poor, but he was confident that, unconscious or not, his body would autonomously heal itself. For him to still be injured after waking up, something was definitely wrong.
He quickly reached into his internal reserves—and his heart dropped.
There was nothing. All nine stars—gone.
His body was as empty as it could get.
Heart palpitating with panic, he tapped into his input, activating it—and once again, nothing.
His heart ran cold. Normally, calling him a walking black hole was an accurate description.
Every second, every minute—awake or asleep—his input was always active. Be it light, heat energy, or even the energy generated from sound waves, his body was in constant absorption.
But today, his input couldn't reach anything. He couldn't absorb the light in the atmosphere. He couldn't even sense the heat from it.
Quickly putting his bandaged hands together and rubbing them frantically, his heart finally settled. The heat generated from the friction—though minuscule—was quickly devoured by his body.
It seemed that, for whatever reason, he was unable to sense the sunlight or heat provided by the sun. But his abilities were still functional.
Letting out a pent-up breath of relief, he thought, 'Thank goodness. At least even with this sort of nerf, as long as my abilities are still working, my nine stars can still be reconstructed'.
"Follow me. The master said I should bring you to him the moment you came to…" the man instructed.
"Where am I?" Spark asked.
"Meet my master, and you will know." Not giving Spark any more chance to speak, the man quickly turned around and exited the stable.
Spark grimaced. Was he supposed to walk in this state?
The simple act of rubbing his hands had caused him so much pain— and effort.
walking would be even worse. But in order not to lose the man, he stood up and followed.
Never in his life had he felt walking was such torture. Each step felt as though he were walking on nails, and his aching joints didn't help either.
But regardless, he needed to continue. The man guided him through the compound. The buildings were built following ancient Eastern aesthetics—which made sense the more he thought about it. After all, this was a world of cultivation.
'Was I saved by another master? Could it be some immortal existence took a liking to my talent and brought me here?' The more Spark thought about it, the more he felt it had to be.
After all, no matter what reason he considered, he couldn't imagine escaping those sect masters alive when they wanted him dead.
Finally, they arrived at a luxuriously built manor.
"Wait here. I will inform the master," the man said, then entered the building.
'If indeed it's a master who saved me, revenge will be in sight.' Spark might be a sociopath, but he had principles. He returned favors to friends a hundredfold—and harms from enemies a thousand.
Mighty or not, he would claim their heads once he was strong enough.
"Come in. Master's waiting…" the man returned and indicated for him to step in.
'Finally, I get to meet the master,' Spark's heart sped up with anticipation, conjuring different images of what this immortal benefactor might look like.
Heart brimming with expectation, he moved through the manor until he reached a door. He looked back, and the man behind him nodded, signaling that he could step in.
Grabbing the door handle, he opened it and stepped in.
"Huh?" he let out, startled—and disappointed.