The Azure Mist Sect rested upon the edge of a jagged mountain range, shrouded by drifting blue mists that never dispersed. Legends claimed the haze was born from the remnants of ancient battles between immortals, yet to the disciples who lived within the sect's walls, it was simply home. Towers carved from stone clung to the cliffs like talons, rope bridges swayed above bottomless ravines, and jade lanterns glowed faintly at night, guiding weary cultivators back to their dwellings.
Every year, this secluded sect held an entrance test to measure the potential of its younger generation. Though it was not among the great powers of the cultivation world, Azure Mist Sect still guarded its traditions. A single genius discovered in its ranks could elevate their name across the provinces. On this day, the main courtyard brimmed with nervous youths. They stood in neat rows, hearts pounding, eyes locked upon the elders who would determine their futures.
At the center of the platform stood an ancient crystal pillar, its surface carved with runes. Wisps of qi circled around it, forming soft ripples like water disturbed by wind. This was the Spirit Absorption Pillar—an artifact capable of revealing the quality of one's spiritual roots and measuring the purity of their qi. To stand before it was to face judgment that could not be deceived.
Among the hopefuls was Wei Zhen. He was thin, his robes slightly faded from years of patching, and his dark eyes carried both determination and unease. Unlike many of the others, he had no clan name to bolster his status. He was a mere orphan raised on the sect's charity, permitted to train only because of his diligence in chores and his faint spark of talent.
Whispers followed him as he waited for his turn.
"Isn't that Wei Zhen? The boy who barely advanced past Body Tempering after so many years?"
"Hmph. He has no background, no guidance. What can he possibly achieve?"
"I heard he meditates every night until dawn, yet his qi remains sluggish. Maybe his meridians are blocked."
Wei Zhen heard them all. He clenched his fists inside his sleeves but forced his breathing to remain steady. This was his only chance. If he could prove his worth today, he would finally be accepted as an official disciple, not just a servant boy who swept the training halls.
One by one, the youths stepped forward. Some produced faint glimmers of light, others blinding radiance that drew murmurs of approval. The elders nodded when promising roots revealed themselves, shook their heads when mediocrity was exposed.
At last, the overseer called, "Wei Zhen, step forward."
Wei Zhen exhaled slowly and walked to the pillar. The courtyard seemed to hush. He pressed his palms against the cold surface, feeling the runes pulse beneath his skin.
"Close your eyes," instructed Elder Han, a stern man whose hair was streaked with silver. "Breathe deep. Guide your qi into the pillar. Do not resist its pull."
Wei Zhen obeyed. He inhaled, drawing in the surrounding spiritual energy. For a moment, he felt a surge of hope—the qi responded to him eagerly, flowing toward his dantian. He guided it into the pillar, envisioning streams of light entering its crystalline core.
The runes glowed. The crowd leaned forward.
Then—something went wrong.
The light flickered, sputtered, then warped. The smooth glow turned jagged, bleeding into inky black streaks that crawled across the surface like cracks. A low hum resonated, and the air turned heavy. The mists surrounding the courtyard thickened, pressing upon the disciples like a suffocating weight.
Wei Zhen's body convulsed. He gasped as pain shot through his meridians, as though molten tar was burning through his veins. His skin darkened, patches of ashen black spreading up his arms and across his chest.
"W–what is happening?" a disciple cried out.
"His qi… it's tainted!" another shouted.
The elders' faces twisted with shock. Elder Han's voice thundered, "Release yourself! Withdraw your qi at once!"
But it was too late. The pillar expelled Wei Zhen violently, a surge of force flinging him backward. He struck the stone tiles with a sickening thud, coughing blood that sizzled upon contact with the ground.
The pillar dimmed, but the traces of black still lingered across its surface, like scars that refused to fade.
Wei Zhen lay trembling, his vision blurred. He could hear the voices, sharp and merciless.
"Impossible… he carries Cursed Qi."
"No wonder his cultivation was stagnant. His very foundation is rotten."
"To think we nurtured such a hidden danger within our walls."
A senior disciple sneered openly. "So this is the truth of Wei Zhen. Not talentless—corrupted. He's a walking disaster."
The crowd's whispers became a tide of mockery and fear. Some stepped back, as if his very presence would infect them.
Wei Zhen tried to rise, but his limbs betrayed him. He looked up at the elders, desperation in his eyes. "Elder Han… this… this is not my fault. I don't know why—"
"Silence!" Elder Han's gaze was ice. "You dare bring pollution before the sacred pillar? Your qi is twisted, defiled. Such corruption cannot be tolerated within Azure Mist Sect."
"But… Elder, please, I have trained with all my heart. I—"
"Enough!" Another elder interjected coldly. "The sect cannot risk harboring one tainted by demonic energy. Expel him immediately."
Wei Zhen's heart sank. His protests died in his throat.
Expelled? After all these years of struggle, after countless nights of blood and sweat? For something he never chose, never understood?
The sect guards moved forward. Two seized him by the arms, dragging him upright despite his weakened state.
The disciples jeered. Some laughed, others spat upon the ground as he passed. "Trash." "Cursed." "Better cast into the abyss than remain among us."
Wei Zhen's head bowed, his hair shadowing his face. Yet deep within, beneath the humiliation and despair, a strange ember flickered. The sensation coursing through his veins, though agonizing, carried a raw vitality unlike anything he had ever felt. His body throbbed with it, his senses heightened.
Cursed Qi, they called it. But in that moment, Wei Zhen wondered: was it truly a curse? Or something else entirely?
The guards dragged him across the courtyard, past the great gates of Azure Mist Sect. The mists parted reluctantly, as though the mountain itself disapproved of his exile.
At the threshold, Elder Han's voice rang out one final time. "Wei Zhen. From this moment forth, you are no disciple of Azure Mist. Consider yourself fortunate we do not end your life here. Should you dare return, the sect will show no mercy."
The gates slammed shut behind him with a resounding boom.
Silence enveloped him. The mountain winds howled, carrying with them the distant laughter of the disciples who had watched his fall.
Wei Zhen staggered, clutching his chest. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. He looked at his trembling hands, still marked by the blackened veins crawling beneath his skin.
Hatred rose within him, cold and sharp. Not only toward those who cast him aside, but toward the heavens themselves. He had done nothing but strive with all his might, yet the world repaid him with mockery and exile.
His teeth clenched. His voice, hoarse yet steady, broke the silence.
"If this is the fate heaven has chosen for me… then let me walk a path against heaven."
His words vanished into the mist, but in his heart, they carved an oath that could not be erased.
Wei Zhen turned away from the gates and descended the mountain. Each step was heavy, yet his resolve only hardened. Somewhere within this vast world, there had to be an answer. Somewhere, the truth of his cursed qi awaited.
He would find it.
Even if he had to tread the path of demons, even if every sect branded him an enemy, even if the heavens themselves cast down thunder upon his head—he would carve his way forward.
For he was no longer a disciple of Azure Mist. He was something else entirely.
And thus, on that day of humiliation and exile, the seed of rebellion against heaven was sown in Wei Zhen's heart.