Chapter 1: The Cursed Awakening
The Mortal World was vast. Empires rose and fell, sects flourished and perished, and lone cultivators carved their legends across history. Yet, hidden at the foot of the Azure Peaks—mountains whose snowy crowns pierced the heavens—there was only a small, quiet village called Willowbrook.
Life here was simple. Farmers tilled their fields, smiths worked in smoky forges, and children grew up on tales whispered by elders around crackling fires. Qi was faint, barely detectable. For the people of Willowbrook, immortality existed only in bedtime stories.
Among them lived Lin Feng, a sixteen-year-old orphan.
His body was thin, his eyes carrying sorrows too deep for his age. Abandoned as an infant, he was raised by the village chief, Wang. Every day, Lin ventured into the forests—scavenging herbs, gathering berries, and hunting small game. His arms bore scars of thorns and beasts, wounds that should have crippled him. Yet every time, his body healed.
Overnight, cuts would vanish. Bones would break… only to mend within days, each healing accompanied by unbearable agony.
The villagers whispered of his "Undying Body." Some said it was a blessing. Others muttered it was a curse.
For Lin, it was torment. His veins burned ceaselessly, his growth stunted, and each step felt like a battle against fatigue.
---
On a crisp dawn, Lin left earlier than usual. Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but his thoughts were with Chief Wang.
The old man had fallen ill, his once-sturdy body now frail and fevered. The night before, he had gripped Lin's hand with what little strength he had left.
> "Boy," he rasped, "the world is merciless. Strength isn't just in muscles—it's in the heart, in the will to endure. Find it… and you'll surpass even immortals."
Those words burned in Lin's chest.
Determined to find rare herbs rumored to grow deeper in the woods, he pushed beyond familiar paths. Brambles tore his clothes. Strange vitality lingered in the air. Hours passed before he stumbled upon a hidden cave, its entrance veiled by ancient vines.
From within came a faint glow.
Lin squeezed through.
Inside, the cave opened into an unnatural chamber. Walls glittered with crystalline veins, dense qi filling the air. At its center stood an altar of jade-like stone, carved with runes that writhed as if alive. Upon it rested a fist-sized crystal, pulsing with a soft, inviting light.
His hand trembled as it reached forward.
The moment his fingers brushed the crystal—
BOOM!
A violent surge erupted. Energy raged through his meridians, igniting every nerve. Visions slammed into his mind: titanic battles where stars shattered, realms collapsed into void, and a voice thundered through the chaos—
> "The undying one shall rise… to rewrite fate, to shield reality from encroaching darkness, to forge a universe of unyielding will."
Agony consumed him. Bones cracked and reforged, muscles tore and rebuilt, blood boiled as impurities burned away. His Undying Body was being reforged—tempered through pain, not blessed with instant power.
When the storm finally ended, Lin collapsed, gasping on the cold floor. His senses were sharper. He could hear the whisper of wind outside, feel the flow of qi in the air. Deep in his abdomen, a faint dantian stirred.
He had stepped into the first layer of Body Refining.
But his body was weak. This was only the beginning.
---
Stumbling out into the fading light, Lin's heart stirred with hope. Perhaps with this awakening, he could save Chief Wang. Perhaps…
But then he froze.
From the hill above Willowbrook, smoke curled into the sky. Flames devoured thatched roofs. Screams carried through the air.
Bandits.
The Iron Fist Sect had come.
Their leader, Zhao Wei, a Qi Gathering cultivator, barked orders as his men cut down villagers.
> "Take everything! Kill those who resist!"
Lin sprinted down, only to find Chief Wang already skewered on a spear.
"Feng…" The old man coughed blood, his voice fading. "Run… live…"
His eyes dimmed.
Zhao Wei laughed coldly, his aura pressing down like an invisible mountain.
> "Pathetic mortals. The heavens favor the strong!"
Rage blinded Lin. He charged.
One strike. That was all it took. Zhao Wei swatted him aside like an insect, slamming him into a wall. Bones shattered, pain exploded—then healed, his body knitting itself back together in torment.
Hidden in the shadows, he could only watch as his home burned, his people slaughtered.
Clenching his fists, he whispered through gritted teeth:
> "I swear… I will become unbreakable. Not just for vengeance… but to tear apart the heavens that allow this cruelty. One day, even they will tremble."