In the shadow of the Cloud Serpent Mountains, the last embers of an ancient sect flickered in silence.
Mist drifted over crumbling stone courtyards and vine-choked pavilions. Broken statues of old masters lay forgotten beneath the moss, their eyes eroded by time. Where once thousands of disciples trained, now only a few scattered figures remained — grey-robed, hollow-eyed, and waiting to die.
Among them was Wei Yunlong, a boy of sixteen winters, lean and sharp-eyed, with callused hands and sun-browned skin. He was born after the fall — the sect's last disciple by accident, orphaned when outer branch guards abandoned their post during a beast tide. His only legacy was the faded robe of a junior outer disciple and a name given to him by a dying elder.
Most called him useless.
"No spiritual root," the Apothecary Master had said when he was five. "A child of stone — unable to draw in even a single strand of qi."
And yet, Wei Yunlong endured.
Every morning before dawn, he climbed the Thousand-Step Path to the ruined Training Hall. Every night, he studied the damaged scrolls in the old library, copying them by moonlight with homemade ink. It was not talent that drove him — it was hunger.
Hunger for freedom. For escape. For more.
That morning, as golden light filtered through the mountain mist, Yunlong stood before a collapsed storehouse behind the Hall of Treasures. It had caved in years ago during a thunderstorm, and none had bothered to clear it. But something had called to him in his dreams — a quiet pulse, like a heartbeat beneath stone.
With a makeshift pickaxe, he cleared rubble for hours. Dust choked his lungs, blood stained his fingers. But then, as the sun reached its peak, his pick struck metal.
Clang.
A dull chime echoed from the debris.
Clearing the last stones, Yunlong uncovered a small compass, intricately carved with interlocking rings and strange runes. The center bore a single jade shard — not a pointer, but a moving star.
When his fingers touched the jade, a cold wind howled through the ruined hall.
"Seeker of Exchange. Bearer of Balance."
A voice, ancient and vast, whispered into his mind.
"You who have nothing — become the bridge between worlds."
The compass pulsed. A flash of silver light swallowed him.
And in the blink of an eye, he vanished from the mortal realm.
—
Yunlong awoke in a realm of floating islands, rivers of stars, and drifting palaces built upon comets. The sky shimmered with colors he had no name for. Strange merchants hawked wares beneath moonlight trees — selling flying beast eggs, flame-infused pills, and tiny universes sealed in bottles.
Hovering before him was the Celestial Trade Compass, glowing with soft jade light.
A panel opened on its face:
Access Granted: Initiating Trader's Path.
Realm Access Level: Locked
Starting Capital: 0
Initial Exchange Point: Activated
As Wei Yunlong stared in awe, the voice returned:
"Welcome, Jade Nomad. Let the first trade begin."