Jianyu sat cross-legged within his small courtyard, the faint glow of moonlight bathing the
ground in silver. His breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling as strands of qi circulated through
his meridians. He had spent days mastering the basics of the Heaven Devouring Art, and its hunger
was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. Each breath drew in not just the ambient qi of the
world but the very essence of life lingering in the air. Every session left his body feeling denser,
strong... The words of the elders echoed in his heart: treasures were what people killed for. The sect
was filled with ambitious disciples and scheming elders. The path of cultivation was paved with
corpses—those who rose too quickly, those who revealed too much, those who thought themselves
untouchable. Jianyu clenched his fists, his eyes hardening. He had nothing but this art, and if he lost it,
then his dreams of standing at the peak would be nothing more than ashes. Better to remain invisible, a
shadow among d... Days turned into weeks, and Jianyu devoted himself to tireless training. His body,
once frail and mediocre, was now sculpted by the Heaven Devouring Art, every tendon, every muscle
fiber infused with strength. He could feel the difference when sparring against fellow outer sect
disciples. His movements were sharper, his endurance seemingly endless, yet he always held back,
always let himself be pushed to the edge of defeat. To the others, he was still the same average
disciple, struggling but determined.... But fate would not allow him to remain hidden for long. One
evening, while returning from a mission to gather herbs from the outer forests, Jianyu found himself
walking the narrow path beneath the setting sun when a shadow detached itself from the trees. A
young man stepped forward, his gaze sharp and his aura brimming with arrogance. Jianyu recognized
him immediately—Lin Hao, the personal disciple of Elder Qingshan, one of the sect's most influential
figures. Lin Hao was known as a genius, already at th... Lin Hao smirked. "Jianyu," he said, his tone
laced with disdain. "I saw you in the forest earlier. You think I wouldn't notice what you were doing?
That technique… it's no ordinary method of cultivation. What did you stumble upon, hmm? Some kind
of inheritance?" Jianyu's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained calm. "I don't know what Senior
Brother is talking about." Lin Hao's eyes narrowed, a glint of greed flashing in them. "Don't play dumb
with me. I saw the way the qi surged around you, how it bent unnaturally toward your body. No ordinary
breathing technique can achieve that. Tell me what it is, hand it over, and perhaps I'll let you live."
Jianyu exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing against the small dagger at his waist. He had hoped to
avoid this exact situation, but now the choice had been taken from him. Lin Hao was too ambitious, too
dangerous to be allowed to live with even the suspicion of Jianyu's secret. "Senior Brother," Jianyu said
quietly, his voice carrying a weight of finality, "you shouldn't have seen what you saw." Lin Hao sneered
and drew his sword, qi flaring around his body like a burning flame. "Then I'll take it from your corpse!"
The battle was fierce. Lin Hao's strikes were swift and deadly, his sword techniques honed through
years of personal tutelage. Each slash carved through the air with terrifying precision, forcing Jianyu to
retreat again and again. But while Lin Hao's strength was sharp and dazzling, Jianyu's foundation was
deep and unyielding. Every time Lin Hao's blade grazed him, Jianyu absorbed the remnants of his qi,
refining it within himself. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Lin Hao's stamina began to wane. The forest
echoed with the clash of steel, the crackle of qi, the heavy breaths of two cultivators locked in a struggle
of life and death. Jianyu's calm never wavered. He struck only when openings appeared, his dagger
flickering like a shadow. Blood splattered across the dirt, the smell of iron thick in the air. Finally, with a
well-timed feint, Jianyu slipped past Lin Hao's guard and drove his dagger deep into his chest. The
genius's eyes widened in disbelief, his lips trembling as he tried to form word... Breathing heavily,
Jianyu stood over the body, his expression cold. He had killed before, but this was different. Lin Hao
was no nameless bandit or beast—he was a well-known genius, a disciple with connections and
backing. His disappearance would not go unnoticed. Jianyu's heart pounded with the weight of what he
had done, but there was no regret in his eyes. He could not afford regret. The path of cultivation
demanded sacrifice, and Lin Hao had chosen to stand in his way. Working quickly, Jianyu dragged the
corpse deeper into the forest, hiding it beneath thick roots and covering the ground with fallen leaves to
mask the scent of blood. He used the Heaven Devouring Art to absorb the last traces of Lin Hao's qi,
erasing any evidence that might betray him. Then, wiping his blade clean, he returned to the sect under
the guise of a tired disciple finishing his mission. When he arrived, the sect bustled as usual. Disciples
trained in the courtyards, elders lectured about dao principles, and no one gave him a second glance.
To them, Jianyu was still the same orphan, talentless and ordinary. Only he knew that his hands were
stained with the blood of a genius, and only he carried the burden of the secret art that could one day
devour even the heavens. That night, as he sat alone beneath the stars, Jianyu closed his eyes and
whispered to himself. "Strength is the only truth. Until I stand at the peak, I must remain silent, hidden,
and patient. Let them think I am nothing. One day, they will understand what it means to provoke me."
The Heaven Devouring Art stirred within him, its hunger insatiable, its promise eternal. And so, in the
quiet of the night, Jianyu's resolve deepened, unshakable as stone, ruthless as the heavens
themselves.