From the moment he could walk, Wang Han Xing walked a road no one else could see. Where other children clung to family manuals, he carved his own path. When elders forced him to repeat breathing techniques, he discarded them after one glance, inscribing harsher patterns into his very blood. The first fruit of that defiance was his own creation Martial Weapon Body. At Stage One, he tempered bone, tendon, and marrow until each movement struck like a forged blade. His arms cracked like whips, his legs drove forward like spears, his shoulders bore the weight of hammers. Flesh was no longer flesh it was steel waiting to be unsheathed. At Stage Two, Qi itself bent to his will. Not into ornate weapons of countless parts, but into pure, simple forms that echoed the essence of killing. A spear: one line, direct and absolute. A sword: one edge, decisive and cruel. A bow: one curve, silent but inevitable. But what crowned him above all was the art whispered into existence in nights of blood and solitude Asura Killing Intent. This was no mere aura. It was will sharpened into essence, a presence that sank into steel and rewrote its nature. A blade touched by his hand grew hungry. A Qi-forged spear became dreadful. And because his body itself was a weapon, he imbued the intent into flesh and bone. Every strike carried the weight of a battlefield. Even his heartbeat throbbed like a war drum, each pulse steeped in slaughter. And yet, when silence fell, there was nothing behind his eyes no triumph, no joy. Only emptiness, like a blade left too long in the cold. One dusk, he stepped into the family's beast pit. The air was heavy with the stench of iron and wet stone. Chains rattled as a demon wolf strained against them, its hide tough as iron, eyes glowing like embers in the dark. Disciples gathered at the edge, their voices sharp with fear. "Is he insane? That's a mid-tier beast! "He's only fourteen "Han Xing did not answer. His gaze was cold, flat, as if he were already somewhere beyond them all. The wolf lunged. Claws raked stone, sparks scattering. Han Xing moved. His arm snapped like a whip, his palm crashed like a hammer. Bone against claw rang out like steel against steel. The beast staggered back, but its snarl deepened. With a roar that shook dust from the rafters, it leapt again. This time Han Xing's Qi surged. A spear of light bloomed in his hand—one line, pure and absolute. His will poured in. The spear grew hungry. The wolf froze mid-leap, eyes widening. For a heartbeat, its body trembled not at the weapon itself, but at the killing intent that coiled around it like a shadowed god. Then, with a thunderous crack, the spear struck. The beast collapsed, chest pierced, blood steaming on the stones. Silence fell. Some disciples shivered, swearing they felt a phantom blade press against their very souls. Whispers spread like wildfire Jealousy fixing in there eyes: "That boy must have been born with a golden spoon in his Mouth "No child could create such techniques it mush be one of the elder teach him "But Han Xing only clenched his fists. They do not see the nights I bled. They see only the Wang family's resources, not the pain I swallowed to forge this path. Even his father, Wang Zhen veteran of a hundred battles watched with a gaze that held both awe and unease. Days later, when Han Xing shattered a stone pillar not with brute force, but with intent that unraveled its inner pattern Wang Zhen finally spoke. "Han Xing, you were born with terrifying talent. But talent is a double-edged sword. The brighter you shine, the more shadows will gather to snuff you out. If the alien races beyond the stars learn of you too soon, they will hunt you without rest. "Han Xing bowed his head, silent but the fire in his eyes did not dim. A faint shadow crossed his mind, a memory half-buried. He crushed it before it could surface. Soon after, he knelt before his father. "Father, send me to the border. I want the true battlefield."
Wang Zhen's face darkened. "You are only fourteen. The border is a furnace of corpses. The border is not a playground of children "Han Xing's voice cut through, sharp as a blade unsheathed. "I refuse to be sheltered. If the border is a furnace, let it temper me into steel. My martial path is not meant to hide in safety. "Silence pressed between them. At last, Wang Zhen sighed, his eyes shadowed. "If I cannot stop you, then you must prepare. For three months you will not only cultivate you will learn history, strategy, and the laws of heaven and men." He rested a hand on an ancient scroll. "I will pass you a secret scripture. Fail to master it, and you will not step onto the border. "Han Xing bowed deeply. His voice carried no joy, no fear only resolve. "Yes, Father." From the shadows of the hall, the clan's elders exchanged troubled glances. For when Han Xing's killing intent stirred, they saw it: a towering phantom shaped like an asura, wreathed in slaughter. Not yet a Divine Body, but an omen a living embodiment weapon destined to shake the battlefield itself. Far beyond the clan's walls, in the endless dark of the borderlands, alien war drums thundered. None yet knew that a boy's shadow was already stretching toward them an asura born in blood, hungering for war.