Millbrook University Campus, Dawn
The early morning sun cast long shadows across the empty training grounds behind the university's martial arts center. While most students were still asleep in their dorms, the rhythmic sound of wooden strikes echoed through the secluded area.
Ryven Strathor, a nineteen-year-old sophomore, moved through basic sword forms with mechanical precision. His athletic build and sharp features would have made him stand out in any crowd, but here in the dawn solitude, sweat dripped from his determined face as he practiced the same fundamental techniques he'd been drilling for over a decade.
The wooden practice sword in his hands had long since lost its original light color, darkened by years of dedicated use until it gleamed like polished ebony. Every slash, thrust, and parry was executed with textbook perfection, yet Ryven's expression grew increasingly frustrated with each repetition.
"Damn it," he muttered, completing the final form and immediately feeling the familiar wave of exhaustion wash over him. His breathing was ragged, his muscles screaming from the effort of what should have been a simple warm-up routine. "Still stuck at the same pathetic level."
Ryven belonged to the Strathor family, one of the minor cultivation clans that had adapted to the modern world by blending ancient practices with contemporary life. While the family maintained a respectable facade as successful entrepreneurs running a chain of martial arts academies across the state, their true nature remained hidden from ordinary society.
His grandfather, Marcus Strathor, had been a respected Foundation Realm cultivator who built the family's current status from nothing. His father, David Strathor, had reached the Fusion Realm in his forties and now served as one of the family's council of elders. The Strathor name carried weight in the hidden cultivation community of their region.
But Ryven was the family disappointment.
Despite starting cultivation training at age eight—the same as every Strathor child—he remained trapped at the first stage of Body Refinement after eleven years of relentless effort. In a world where cultivation determined everything from social status to business opportunities within their community, Ryven was effectively worthless.
The modern cultivation world had evolved significantly from ancient times. Cultivators now operated through front companies, conducted business in skyscrapers, and used technology to enhance their training. Yet the fundamental truth remained unchanged: strength determined worth, and Ryven had none.
Body Refinement consisted of seven stages in the contemporary system: Body Strengthening, Qi Awakening, Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Core Crystallization, Meridian Opening, and Acupoint Activation. Most talented individuals could reach Qi Awakening within their first year of training. Ryven couldn't even sense qi after more than a decade.
Later That Evening - Strathor Family Estate
The Strathor mansion sat on twenty acres of pristine land just outside the city, its modern architecture cleverly concealing ancient cultivation facilities beneath. Ryven's living quarters occupied a converted guest house at the edge of the property—far enough from the main residence to spare the family the embarrassment of his presence.
After his evening shower, Ryven sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at two objects that had puzzled him for months: an ornate black sword with an obsidian blade and intricate silver inscriptions, and a small wooden box covered in symbols he couldn't decipher.
He'd discovered both items six months ago while exploring the abandoned sub-basement of his grandfather's old building downtown. The area had been sealed off for renovations, but Ryven's curiosity had led him to a hidden room that looked untouched for decades. The moment his flashlight illuminated these artifacts, something deep within him had resonated with their ancient presence.
The wooden box defied every attempt to open it. Ryven had tried everything from crowbars to blowtorches, even borrowing diamond-tipped tools from his engineering lab. The box remained pristine and sealed, as if mocking his efforts.
Tonight felt different somehow. As Ryven held the box, studying its mysterious engravings by lamplight, a desperate idea occurred to him. In the old cultivation stories his grandfather used to tell, blood recognition was a common theme for ancient artifacts.
"Worth a shot," he muttered, pricking his finger with a pocket knife.
Several drops of blood fell onto the wooden surface. For a moment, nothing happened, and Ryven felt the familiar sting of disappointment. Just as he reached to wipe the blood away, the box began to emit a soft, golden glow.
The blood drops were absorbed into the wood like water into sand. The glow intensified, causing the mysterious symbols to pulse with ethereal light. With a soft click, the box opened for the first time in what felt like centuries.
Inside lay a small jade vial containing a single pill. The moment Ryven lifted it from the box, he gasped. The pill was dark crimson with four golden lines spiraling around its surface, and it radiated an aura of incredible power that made his cultivation-starved body tremble with anticipation.
As he held the pill up to the light, Ryven experienced a vivid hallucination. He stood on the shore of an infinite ocean, its waves towering impossibly high above him. The sheer magnitude of power contained within this tiny pill was overwhelming—ancient, dangerous, and utterly beyond his comprehension.
Every instinct screamed at him to put the pill away, to seek guidance from his elders, to approach this discovery with proper caution. But eleven years of failure and humiliation had worn away his patience. This might be his only chance to change his fate.
Without hesitation, Ryven swallowed the pill.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming. The pill dissolved the moment it reached his stomach, releasing a torrent of pure energy that flooded his meridian system. One of the four golden lines vanished, and approximately a quarter of the pill's mass converted into raw cultivation energy that surged through every cell in his body.
The pain was indescribable. It felt as though molten steel was being pumped through his veins while his bones were shattered and reformed. Ryven bit down on his pillow to muffle his screams, his body convulsing as the ancient energy worked to reconstruct him from the inside out.
His muscles swelled and contracted rhythmically, becoming denser and more defined. His bones grew stronger, his organs more efficient. Black, tar-like impurities oozed from his pores as his body expelled years of accumulated toxins and weakness. Even his appearance began to change—his features sharpened, his skin cleared, and his build became more athletic and proportioned.
After what felt like hours but was probably only fifteen minutes, the transformation completed. Ryven slowly sat up, marveling at how different his body felt. Where before he could barely complete basic forms without exhaustion, now he felt like he could run a marathon.
More importantly, he could finally sense qi.
The energy that had eluded him for over a decade now flowed through his meridians like a gentle stream. His cultivation had jumped from the initial stage of Body Refinement directly to the third stage—Body Strengthening peak level.
As Ryven examined the remaining pill in his dantian, he noticed it still contained three golden lines and roughly three-quarters of its original mass. This single ancient pill could potentially carry him through multiple breakthrough stages, something that should have taken years to achieve naturally.
For the first time since childhood, Ryven Strathor smiled with genuine hope. His journey as a cultivator was finally beginning.