The cavern behind the waterfall lay silent, the only sound the endless crash of water spilling down
outside. Jianyu sat still upon the cold stone, his breathing calm, his body light yet filled with a
strange density, as though boundless power had been folded neatly into his very flesh. When at last
he opened his eyes, the world seemed sharper than before. Each droplet of water sparkled like
crystal, each grain of stone was etched with detail he had never noticed. His ears caught the faint
hum of energy in the air, the whisper of the river beyond, even the scurrying of insects in the cracks
of the wall.
He clenched his fist and felt the strength surge through him. His bones no longer ached with
weakness. His tendons no longer felt brittle and frail. His dantian, once a muddy pool, now pulsed
like a radiant sun, circulating qi with an ease that stunned him. His entire body thrummed with
vitality, reborn through the Heaven's Marrow Elixir and the Heaven Devouring Art.
But even as wonder filled him, Jianyu's expression grew grim. Treasures such as these… if anyone
else discovered them, would they allow me to live? He could already imagine the greedy eyes of
fellow disciples, the cold suspicion of elders, the merciless hand of anyone stronger. In this world,
treasures were not blessings but curses, for they invited envy, and envy brought death.
"Hide it," he whispered to himself, the cavern echoing his vow. "No one must know. Until I am
strong enough to protect what I hold, I will bury my strength deep."
His gaze drifted to the remnants of the scarlet elixir bottle, now empty. A pang of regret struck
him—such a treasure, consumed in an instant—but the results were undeniable. Already his body
had been reforged. Yet the true test still lay before him.
At the edge of the cavern lay the desiccated bones of a beast long dead, scattered among moss
and stone. Jianyu's hand brushed against a cracked skull, and to his surprise, a faint glimmer
pulsed within. Hidden inside the chest cavity was a small, neglected beast core, dulled with age.
Normally, such a core would be useless; unrefined, it was nothing more than poison. But Jianyu's
mind echoed with the Heaven Devouring Sage's voice: All energy is sustenance. All resistance is
fuel.
He hesitated. Even with this art, failure could cripple him. Yet if he feared risk, had all his suffering
been for nothing?
Sitting cross-legged once more, he lifted the dim core to his lips. It was cold, rough, and heavy with
stale energy. He swallowed.
Instantly, a corrosive wave surged through him. His veins burned as though filled with venom. Black
qi lashed out within his meridians, stabbing at his flesh, tearing at his dantian. Jianyu gasped, sweat
pouring down his brow, his vision flickering.
But the Heaven Devouring Art awoke.
His dantian spun like a vortex, sucking the chaos into its depths. The poisonous qi was dragged into
the abyss, crushed, and refined. What should have destroyed him instead melted into streams of
pure vitality, flowing into his limbs, strengthening his flesh. His breathing steadied. His bones
creaked as they grew denser still. The staleness in the core dissolved until nothing remained but
ash within his stomach.
Jianyu opened his eyes, trembling. His lips curved into a thin smile. It works.
The Heaven Devouring Art was no lie. With it, he could turn even poison into strength. Yet the pain
had been immense, and the risk undeniable. He touched his chest and exhaled slowly. "Never
before others," he muttered. "If anyone sees me swallow a beast core directly, they will know this is
no ordinary cultivation method. I will keep this hidden until I am untouchable."
With renewed determination, Jianyu left the cavern, slipping past the waterfall and into the forest.
The air was damp, filled with the scent of moss and pine. Sunlight streamed weakly through the
canopy, catching on drifting motes of qi. Every step felt different now—light, balanced, powerful. He
moved with ease, his body no longer weighed down by fatigue.
It was dusk when he finally reached the sect's outer gate. Disciples bustled to and fro, carrying
buckets of water, tending to chores, or practicing in the training yards. Jianyu lowered his head,
adopting the same tired shuffle he had worn for years. Let them see him as they always had—a
weak, talentless orphan struggling to survive. None would notice the fire beneath the ash.
As he passed, familiar jeers rose from a group of fellow disciples. "Look who's back, the trash of the
sect!" one sneered. "Still breathing? How pitiful." Another laughed. "Don't tell me you went to train
again. Even if you train for a hundred years, you'll never catch up to real cultivators."
Jianyu kept walking, his eyes calm. Before, those words would have cut him deeply, would have
burned his pride. Now, they were nothing more than the buzzing of flies. He knew what lay within
him, and their laughter could not touch it. Still, he kept his silence. To reveal his strength now would
bring nothing but danger.
That night, as the sect bells tolled, disciples gathered in the courtyard. The elders descended from
the main hall, their robes gleaming, their expressions stern. The First Elder stepped forward, his
voice carrying across the crowd.
"In three months, the sect will hold its outer disciple competition. All disciples will participate. The
strongest shall earn the right to enter the inner sect, to receive guidance from the masters, and to
step upon the true path of cultivation."
Excitement buzzed through the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire. For most, this was the chance
of a lifetime. For Jianyu, once deemed useless, it had always been an impossible dream. Yet as he
stood among the crowd, his heart beat steadily.
Three months. That was enough time.
If he cultivated in secret, devoured beast cores far from prying eyes, he could raise his strength
step by step. He would not reveal the Heaven Devouring Art—not yet. But at the competition, when
the world least expected it, he would shatter his label of mediocrity.
As the elders dismissed the disciples, Jianyu slipped away into the night, his thoughts racing. The
forest awaited, filled with beasts, each one a stepping stone. But so too did danger. The art that
gave him strength was also a curse if revealed. He must tread carefully, hiding his every gain,
concealing his every step.
That night beneath the stars, Jianyu sat in meditation. The Heaven Devouring Art circulated
endlessly, pulling faint threads of qi from the air, refining them into his core. Pain lingered in his
veins, the echo of the beast core he had devoured, but it was a pain he welcomed. For pain was the
price of strength, and strength was the only path forward.
His eyes opened, reflecting the cold moonlight. "Treasures invite calamity," he whispered. "I will be
my own calamity, hidden until the heavens themselves tremble."
The forest wind howled as if bearing witness to his vow. Somewhere deep in the mountains, a
beast roared, its cry carrying both menace and promise. Jianyu's lips curved into the faintest of
smiles.
The path was set. The hardships ahead would be countless, the enemies merciless, the heavens
themselves unyielding. But he would not falter. For he had tasted weakness, and he had devoured
despair.
And now, he would devour the world