The Tianyu Palace stood atop the Jade Dragon Mountain, its roofs of emerald tiles shimmering like scales under the fading autumn sun. Within the Hall of Eternal Harmony, golden lanterns swayed gently, casting a warm glow over the courtiers' silk robes, embroidered with phoenixes and clouds. Their murmurs, sharp and venomous, filled the air like the hum of a distant storm, all directed at the young man kneeling before the Dragon Throne.
Lin Feng, the Fifth Prince of the Tianyu Kingdom, kept his head bowed, his tattered robe a stark contrast to the splendor around him. His body, frail from years of neglected meridians, trembled slightly under the weight of their scorn. Born without the ability to sense qi, the vital energy that fueled cultivators, he was a laughingstock—a "Useless Prince" who tarnished the royal Lin Clan's name.
"Fifth Brother," a voice cut through the whispers, smooth yet laced with malice. Prince Zhao, the Third Prince, lounged on his elevated seat, his golden robes catching the lantern light. His aura, at the peak of the Qi Condensation Realm, pressed against the hall like a coiled dragon. "Why do you bother attending the Royal Assembly? A cripple like you only brings shame to Father's court."
Laughter rippled through the hall, sharp as a blade. Lin Feng's hands clenched, hidden beneath his sleeves. The memories of this body flooded him—years of jeers, of being barred from cultivation halls, of watching his mother waste away in a forgotten courtyard while the court turned a blind eye. She had died a year ago, her final words a plea for him to endure. But another set of memories, those of a 21st-century engineer named Lin Feng, burned brighter. He had died in a lab explosion, his life snuffed out while working on a fusion reactor. Now, reborn in this ancient world of cultivators and kings, he felt a spark of defiance ignite within him.
I built machines that powered cities, he thought, his jaw tightening. I won't let these fools define me.
He raised his head, his dark eyes meeting Prince Zhao's sneer. "Third Brother," he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his limbs, "a man's worth is not in his meridians but in his will. Mock me today, but time will tell who stands taller."
The hall fell silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in mocking laughter. "Will?" Prince Zhao scoffed, leaning forward. "What will does a cripple have? Go back to your courtyard and spare us your delusions."
The courtiers' jeers followed Lin Feng as he rose and walked out, his steps measured despite the weight of their words. The autumn breeze greeted him in the courtyard, carrying the faint scent of chrysanthemums from the palace gardens—a reminder of his mother's love for the flower. He paused by a stone bench, his hand brushing the cracked jade pendant at his chest, her only legacy. It felt oddly warm, heavier than he remembered, but he dismissed it as a trick of his weary mind.
Survive, his mother's voice echoed in his memory. Endure, and find your path.
Lin Feng's gaze drifted to the distant peaks of the Jade Dragon Mountain, where the palace's shadow stretched like a slumbering beast. The Tianyu Kingdom was vast, its lands rich with spiritual veins, yet plagued by drought in the west and unrest in the south. His brothers, consumed by their cultivation and political games, ignored the people's suffering. Lin Feng, though, saw opportunity—not in qi, but in knowledge. His engineer's mind churned, recalling principles of mechanics and irrigation that could save the western provinces.
He had no access to the palace library, its scrolls forbidden to a disgraced prince, but he had overheard servants speak of a forgotten archive in the eastern wing, neglected since his mother's time. If he could find it, perhaps he could uncover something—anything—to prove his worth.
As he turned toward the eastern wing, a faint chill brushed his senses. He glanced up to see a figure in white standing atop a nearby pavilion, her silhouette sharp against the moon. Her sword gleamed with a frosty aura, and her eyes, cold as winter, met his for a fleeting moment. Su Mei, the Ice Phoenix of the Northern Sect, was a guest at the palace, summoned for the assembly. Lin Feng had heard of her—a prodigy who felled enemies with a single stroke. Why was she watching him?
Before he could dwell on it, she vanished into the shadows, leaving only the echo of her presence. Lin Feng shook his head, his thoughts returning to the archive. The pendant pulsed faintly at his chest, unnoticed, as he stepped into the night.
If I can't cultivate like them, I'll find another way, he vowed silently. This is only the beginning.