It was as if the very breath of creation had been suspended; the porcelain shard, a fang of mortal vengeance held in Lu Shañg's hand, was arrested in its flight a mere inch from the man's throat, ensnared within an imperceptible cage woven from pure spiritual force.
In that heart-stopping, frozen tableau, Lu Shañg perceived with a soul-chilling clarity the true face of his tormentor—the merciless and utterly calculating demeanor that had lurked beneath the feigned guise of a broken madman.At that instant, Lu Shañg's entire body was rendered as immobile as a statue carved from primordial stone; he could not command the tremor of a single hair, nor the flicker of an eyelash.
Then, gazing into the man's abyssal, all-seeing eyes, he was struck by the horrifying realization that every act, every word, had been a deliberate and masterful orchestration of cunning manipulation.
The man had meticulously stoked the embers of Lu Shañg's grief into a raging inferno, goading him with surgical precision into this very act of suicidal defiance.
A tempest of unutterable fury convulsed the former Lu Shañg's silenced frame, a storm of rebellion against his own powerlessness, yet under the crushing, mountainous weight of the other party's potent spiritual sense, he remained chained, unable to advance even a single step.
Abruptly, before his mind could process the depths of this manipulation, his entire field of vision was consumed by the image of an approaching palm, a descending firmament that struck his chest before the notion of blinking could even form.
In that infinitesimal, reality-bending instant, Lu Shañg was hurled backwards with a velocity that defied mortal physics, his form a blur of motion that collided with the unforgiving wall in a sickening crack of thunder before collapsing to the earth like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
Despite the formidable protective vest he wore, the calamitous impact shattered bones throughout his body like fine porcelain, and a crimson mist erupted from his wounds, painting the ground in the color of his despair.
He retched up great mouthfuls of lifeblood, his body a vessel wracked by an unending symphony of agony, yet Lu Shañg ruthlessly quarantined the pain and focused his will inward, his consciousness a desperate diver plunging into the chaotic sea of his own body.
After several harrowing internal confirmations that his fragile spiritual core remained intact, a long, ragged exhalation of profound relief escaped his lips, a ghost of steam in the cold air.
The surrounding crowd had already surged toward his broken form like a tide, and he understood then that he was, for this fleeting moment, spared from the finality of mortal danger.
Whether one was a cultivator of immense wealth, an impoverished seeker of the Dao, or even a common mortal, to directly slay another soul within the sanctified clan grounds was to transgress against the clan's most sacred tenets, a cardinal offense punishable by the ultimate retribution of death.
Thus, having narrowly been pulled back from the precipice of calamity, he leveraged his shattered frame, taking care not to disrupt his body's innate defensive mechanisms, and just as the velvet curtain of unconsciousness threatened to descend, the man's accursed, mocking words echoed in the chambers of his ears.
"I know nothing more, I can recall nothing more! All of you conspire to see me dead! Begone from this place, I wish to gaze upon none of you again! Flee, you vultures, flee!"
After that cursed voice seared itself into his memory, before he could register the next wave of torment, he finally succumbed to the encroaching darkness and fainted upon the blood-soaked ground.
Many onlookers who had witnessed the exchange had harbored the same volcanic urge as Lu Shañg to strike down this madman, but were held in check by the cold chains of fear; thus, they felt a profound, almost shameful sense of relief upon witnessing Lu Shañg's tragic plight.
Yet still, fueled by the embers of their own righteous anger and smoldering resentment toward the man, some among them began to view the unconscious Lu Shañg as a nascent hero and bravely interposed their bodies between him and the youth.
Then, as the remainder of the crowd converged upon the scene, they reverently carried the half-dead form of Lu Shañg toward the sanctum of the medical hall.
According to the memories now etched into his soul, the assailant was a cultivator at the very zenith of the Qi stage, while Lu Shañg was a mere novice languishing in its earliest phase.
Therefore, even had the man's attention been wandering among the clouds, Lu Shañg's sudden, desperate assault was nothing more than the jest of a child to a titan.
At such an intimate, soul-baring range, the man had arrested Lu Shañg's momentum and transformed him into a living statue with nothing but the sheer, oppressive weight of his Spiritual Energy, then had used his raw, untempered physical might to deliver a palm strike to Lu Shañg's chest—an attack that had very nearly extinguished the flame of his life, even through the powerful inner protective vestments his parents had bequeathed to him as a final legacy.
So, this was the unvarnished, brutal truth of the cultivation world, a primordial domain where the strong forged their ascent by devouring the weak, a realm where even minor disparities in cultivation stages were chasms as vast and impossible to cross as the void between stars.
Lu Shang forced these sudden, profound emotions into the deepest vaults of his mind and focused once more on the river of memories.
Later, the clan's decree of punishment descended upon Lu Shañg like a guillotine: the absolute forfeiture of all compensation owed for his parents' sacrifice on the mission. Instead of receiving the inheritance of their valor, he was sentenced to a decade of servitude as a common Clan guard.
Lu Shang understood with a grim and soul-weary certainty that were it not for the clan's current precarious and vulnerable situation, he would have faced summary execution for the unforgivable crime of daring to attack a clan member of superior station.
For the man was a cultivator at the peak of the Qi Consolidation stage, a being who possessed a tangible chance of shattering his mortal shackles and ascending to the hallowed Foundation Establishment realm; on the other hand, Lu Shañg, whose parents were now dust and whose future was shackled by low-grade spiritual roots and an Early Stage cultivation, had no discernible path forward, no future worth investing in.
The chasm that separated their respective statuses was as immeasurable as that between the highest heavens and the deepest earth, so Lu Shañg accepted the sentence of ten years' guard service with the silence of a stone.
He joined the ranks as a low-level sentinel, a station befitting his 2nd stage Qi Consolidation level, and silently suppressed the surging, volcanic tempest of emotions that raged within the sanctum of his heart.
After his first year as a guard, the Gaze of Fortune seemed to at last fall upon Lu Shang; his fate twisted dramatically when, during a fateful incident, he providentially saved the sole, cherished granddaughter of a formidable Foundation Establishment senior.
The elder, consumed by an ecstasy of relief and gratitude, not only elevated Lu Shañg from his lowly, forgotten post but also bestowed upon him a veritable mountain of contribution points.
These points were a treasure sufficient to select any mortal-grade, mid-tier technique from the clan's sacred repository and to use the vast remainder to acquire the cultivation resources he so desperately craved.
Hmm!
According to the inherited memories, with the exception of a few transcendent and legendary arts, mortal-grade mid-tier techniques were the highest echelon of power available to cultivators still bound to the Qi Consolidation stage.
Lu Shañg had already been graced with a cultivation technique and a defensive art from his parents, and had also been granted a new attack technique upon his induction into the guard.
Thus, the only piece missing from his martial trinity was a movement technique, which is precisely why Lu Shañg later expended those precious contribution points to select his clan's most renowned footwork technique, the very art of evasion and pursuit that had carved the Lu clan's name into the history of FrostBloom Solar County.
For the next few years, Lu Shañg sealed the gnawing pain of his parents' untimely demise deep within the catacombs of his soul and immersed himself wholly in the arduous, soul-forging practice of cultivation. Then, at the age of eighteen, he mastered the Lu Clan's famed footwork technique to the level of minor accomplishment, a feat of notable talent.
The following year, at the age of nineteen, by expending nearly every last shard of his painstakingly accumulated resources, he shattered his bottleneck and ascended to the 3rd level of the Qi Consolidation Stage, a breakthrough that sent ripples of astonishment through the clan members who had perpetually dismissed him as trash.
He was emboldened by this cascade of successive triumphs and even hosted a modest gathering with the few uncles and aunts who still acknowledged his existence—individuals who were, in truth, the last remaining relatives and loyal confidants of his departed parents.
Later, when he conveyed the tidings of his success to the senior whose contribution had been the catalyst for his rapid ascension, the elder extended an invitation for him to attend an evening feast at his personal residence.
Upon arriving at the senior's abode that evening, Lu Shañg discerned that, in addition to celebrating his success, he had primarily been summoned to offer encouragement to the senior's troubled granddaughter.
It appeared the young girl's coming-of-age ceremony was now only a few short months away; this once fickle and unruly girl, who had been raised on her grandfather's grand tales of legendary cultivators, had suddenly felt the immense, crushing pressure of the impending ceremony a month prior and had since descended into a state of deep despondency.
That evening, amidst the clinking of cups and the aroma of fine food, Lu Shañg endeavored to inspire the girl by sharing the chronicle of his own trials and various anecdotes of perseverance, and the girl's spirits indeed seemed to ascend from their shadowy depths as she grew eager to learn of the wider world from him.
Then, after the meal had drawn to its conclusion, seeing the genuine smile that once more graced the girl's face, Lu Shañg prepared to take his leave. It was at that precise moment that the girl's grandfather beckoned Lu Shañg for a private and solemn conversation.
That time, Senior Lu Shiming spoke with the solemn gravity of a mountain and the profound wisdom of ages.
"Lu Shañg, I recognize you as a youth of great capability. You have managed to elevate yourself to this station even under these dire circumstances, a feat that would be impossible for many.
I am aware that you harbor a bitter resentment toward our clan, but you are not alone in this; a great many members of this clan hold such sentiments in their hearts.
Since our Clan's resources are so grievously limited, it is simply not possible to properly consider the needs of all our members, yet for a multitude of reasons, I feel a great and terrible injustice has been done to you.
And by stating this, I do not wish to offer you hollow sympathy, for you do not require it. You have done me a service of immeasurable magnitude, a debt that I shall never forget for the remainder of my mortal life."
After drawing a slow breath, Lu Shiming lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and continued.
"It is for that reason that after you saved my precious granddaughter, I began to make inquiries into your affairs, and a matter of a most peculiar nature came to my attention.
You were possessed of negligible power before, so it would not have mattered if I shared this with you or not, but judging from your recent success, I believe your future now holds a glimmer of brightness. Therefore, you must exercise a far greater caution henceforth."
After casting a furtive, almost fearful glance around the empty corridor, the senior, Lu Shiming, leaned closer still, his next words spoken in a tone as grave as a tombstone.
"Your parents' sudden participation in that calamitous mission was a matter of immense and troubling concern.
Although they had previously partaken in several dangerous ventures, that particular clan mission was an undertaking reserved solely for the family's absolute elite, a mission they could not have possibly joined even if they had burned with the desire to do so.
And when I attempted to investigate the matter with greater depth, I perceived a suffocating, suppressive pressure emanating from an authority far higher than my own. It was a power far beyond my ability to contest, so I implore you, be careful."
The words struck him like a bolt of heavenly lightning, a celestial judgment that seared both his flesh and his soul.
Though he had been crucifying himself with blame in the silent chambers of his heart, he had always felt a thin, persistent thread of uncertainty regarding the matter, and now Senior Lu Shiming's words had magnified that sliver of doubt into a monstrous, undeniable form. He offered his profound thanks to Senior Lu Shiming for the dire warning and departed into the night.
The next morning, after a sleepless night of torturous contemplation yielded no answers, he could no longer restrain the storm within and stormed into the clan's mission hall like a vengeful spirit.
Without seeking any permission, he began to interrogate the members working there about the legitimacy and circumstances of his parents' final mission.
At one point, a heated argument erupted between them, a spark in a powder keg, and suddenly, all the pent-up anguish and simmering rage from the past few years erupted from within Lu Shañg like a long-dormant volcano.
He thus lost all control and engaged them in direct, furious combat, and in the tragic end, Lu Shañg was once again cast before the doors of the medicine hall, his body broken and half-dead.
But this time, as he lay in that familiar state of shattered ruin, Lu Shañg realized with a piercing, crystalline clarity that a great and terrible secret lay concealed behind the veil of his parents' deaths.
This profound realization granted him an immense and immediate relief from the crushing emotional weight of self-blame and allowed him to finally understand that he could only unearth the truth and mete out justice to the culprits if he became truly, terrifyingly powerful.
And that would never be possible if he remained shackled to this clan. He therefore forged a resolution in the fires of his broken body: after he had recovered sufficiently, he would flee this cage forever.
During the ensuing month, while his body was mending, he received a piece of great news: the grand disciple recruitment for the sacred 'Thousand Mountain Sect' would commence in the middle month of the current year.
This, he knew in the depths of his very soul, was the best and final chance he had been so desperately searching for.
A few days after hearing the news, under the concealing cloak of a moonless night, he absconded from the clan, a ghost carrying with him the last of his meager, worldly possessions.
Finally, after a grueling pilgrimage of approximately four months, he reached the 'Iron Pass Bazaar,' a formidable city-state nestled within the Azure Mountain Range Country.
The staggering distance from his county to this location spanned several thousand kilometers, a journey that, by all rights, should have taken him a little over two and a half months.
However, due to the treacherous, winding mountain paths, fraught with the ever-present dangers of unpredictable rogue cultivators and savage, bloodthirsty beasts, Lu Shañg had narrowly evaded the grasp of death on numerous occasions and was forced to make several lengthy detours to finally arrive at the 'Iron Pass Bazaar.'
This bustling, chaotic trading hub served as the first impenetrable line of defense and a mighty fortress city for the Country, falling under the direct, iron-fisted authority of the Sect itself.
At the foot of tens of colossal mountain ranges, a beautiful and ancient city stood sentinel against the horizon. This metropolis stretched for thousands of kilometers, resembling a massive, slumbering behemoth lying in eternal repose beneath the shadow of the mountain range.
Upon reaching the heavily fortified Western Gate of the Western District Area, he, having already exhausted the very last of his funds, was very nearly cast out like common refuse.
This was because every newly arriving cultivator was required to pay a tribute of fifty spirit stones merely to acquire a city pass with a one-year limitation. Yes, fifty low-grade spirit stones.
He could scarcely believe the testimony of his own ears. To simply gain entry into this citadel of commerce, one had to relinquish fifty low-grade spirit stones, a sum equivalent to half a mid-grade spirit stone, which itself represented half the entire annual income of a common Early Stage cultivator.
In this world, the vast majority of cultivators primarily utilized spirit stones in their countless transactions.
One hundred low-grade spirit stones were equivalent to one mid-grade spirit stone.
One hundred mid-grade spirit stones were equivalent to one high-grade spirit stone.
And it was known that high-grade spirit stones were as exceedingly rare as a phoenix feather.
But alas, this poor, shorn sheep still possessed some wool to be taken. With a heart heavy with a profound and sorrowful reluctance, he was forced to part with his last remaining mid-tier protective inner garment(vest), the final, sacred memento of his parents, a treasure that had saved his very life on so many desperate occasions.
Feeling spiritually and physically naked, he finally passed through the great city gates. Later, he heard the auspicious news for which he had journeyed thousands of agonizing kilometers.
The glad tidings were that the 'Thousand Mountain Sect's' five-year disciple recruitment examination would officially commence in a mere fifteen days.
After entering this grand trading city, a nexus where most of the goods in the entire Country were bought and sold, he discovered that everything here required a far greater tithe of spirit stones to purchase when compared to the world outside its walls.
A few moments ago, he had sold his nearly damaged mid-tier protective robe for a scant few hundred low-grade spirit stones and had already surrendered fifty of them to the gate guard. Thus, he still possessed a small, dwindling cache of low-grade spirit stones.
Subsequently, he proceeded to the nearby market area to procure some essential cultivation resources and then sought out the building management authority, because according to the city's draconian regulations, he was not permitted to even sleep upon the cold, unforgiving streets.
*
He therefore purchased some dire necessities for his cultivation, such as hunger-suppressing pills and a few mortal-tier medicinal herbs. Afterwards, he secured the lease for a dilapidated, skeletal courtyard situated near the outermost, forgotten stratum of the Southwest Area.
This was because he had discovered some time ago that in this city, even the most wretched residential inns or hovels cost five to six times more than their usual price, an exorbitant and foolish waste for him at this critical juncture.
Outside the city walls, the prices were not nearly so outrageous. But this city was directly governed by the sect, a place that demanded spirit stones even to dispose of one's own bodily waste. So, he rented an ancient, crumbling house far from the opulent center for a pittance.
The sun was already bleeding into the western horizon when he finally reached the rented courtyard within the Southwest outskirts, located in the bleak border area between the Southern and Western District Area.
The dilapidated, one-story building was situated deep inside the courtyard, opposite the main gate, its back pressed against the crumbling rear wall.
Arriving before the time-worn door, he retrieved a newly-bought low-level protective talisman that he had concealed within the folds of his clothes, affixed its paper-thin form to the wooden door, and entered the single, barren room.
Since the talisman was of a low and common grade, it did not completely merge with the door or wall and could only obstruct the spiritual senses of early-stage cultivators.
However, there was another, more subtle purpose for placing the talisman on the exterior of the room rather than the interior: to signal to all who might pass that the room was occupied and the cultivator within was in a deep state of practice.
Therefore, if someone were to see this talisman and still attempt to use their spiritual sense or any other arcane method to probe the interior, it must be understood with absolute certainty that their intentions were malicious.
After stepping into the chamber and finding it utterly bare, he lay down upon the cold, packed earth of the empty room. He was so utterly drained, so mentally and spiritually exhausted from the past few days of constant, nerve-shredding self-defense and relentless, punishing travel that as soon as Lu Shañg lay down and closed his eyes, a silent, profound darkness descended upon him, as if some great, starless beast had swallowed him whole....
And that was the very moment when I opened my eyes again, awakening to the myriad wonders and terrors of this dangerous new world…