The light from the ancient book faded at last.
Chu Feng's trembling hands reached for the glowing pages. His breath came fast; his heart pounded as though afraid the words might vanish again.
Golden lines pulsed across the parchment—living runes, flowing like veins of molten light.
"Heaven hasn't abandoned me," he whispered, eyes wet.
He didn't yet know that only by shedding one's heart's blood—the essence of life—could the book reveal its secret. The same secret that had driven his ancestors to madness.
The title burned itself into his mind:
Revolution Connecting Mantra
Strengthen the body, and the mind shall feed upon it.
Temper the mind, and the body shall become divine.
When body and soul connect, revolution begins.
Chu Feng read it again and again until excitement drowned the pain in his chest.
"I won't waste this," he vowed.
The Third Soak
He prepared the prescribed herbs, brewing them into a thick crimson bath.
The first soak burned like fire.
The second scalded until his skin blistered.
But the third, performed under moonlight, was agony beyond imagination.
Lightning seemed to crawl through his veins. Every nerve screamed. He wanted to flee—but the warning echoed in his mind:
Do not leave the bath before nine hours pass.
He bit down hard on his lip, blood mingling with the bubbling brew.
Black filth seeped from his pores, forming a dark mist that hung in the air.
Through the haze of pain, a voice stirred within the silence—a deep, ancient sigh.
"Even in misfortune, Heaven favors you, child."
Chu Feng froze. The voice continued, calm and solemn.
"Though unintended, I caused your suffering. Allow me to turn this curse into fortune. I do not know what you will become, but I believe it will be extraordinary."
A warm radiance spread through his body, seeping into bone and marrow. His consciousness blurred as the world fell away.
The Yin–Yang Sword Spirit
He found himself adrift in a sea of light.
There, an old man appeared—his hair white as snow, his presence sharp as a blade.
"Don't panic," the stranger said with a faint smile. "You're not possessed."
Chu Feng's voice quavered. "Who are you?"
"I am the spirit of the Yin–Yang Sword. I once served a cultivator named Old Man Xi."
Recognition flashed in Chu Feng's mind—he remembered that name from the tale of the duel above the clouds.
"When Xi perished," the spirit continued, "I fell with the sword's essence. During your awakening, that droplet of divine water carried me into your soul. Your body was too weak; the fusion nearly destroyed you. To save you, I sealed most of my power.
Your blood offering just now broke the final seal."
He frowned at the boy, his tone half-scolding.
"You foolish child—gulping elixirs as if they were sweets! Do you know how close you came to burning your meridians?"
Chu Feng lowered his head, embarrassed.
The spirit sighed. "Still… Heaven's mercy is strange. You are no longer merely a Rune Master. You've become something else entirely—half rune, half sword. Explore it.
Strength without wisdom is ruin, and wealth without strength is illusion.
Train your mind, forge your will, and one day you'll walk the path even gods fear to tread."
His form dissolved into motes of light.
"Walk your own road, Chu Feng. That will be your revolution of fate."
A New Soul
When Chu Feng opened his eyes, dawn light spilled through the hut.
His body felt light, balanced, alive. He looked inward—and gasped.
His soul glowed bright and whole, divided into black and white halves with a radiant sword bridging them like yin and yang united.
He rose from the dried bath, grimy and exhausted, yet his heart thrummed with clarity.
He summoned his power; the rune and sword fused into one shimmering aura.
"This… is my soul," he murmured. "My path."
From that day forward, he lived in silence.
To the clan, he remained the boy with a defective soul.
But in secret, he cultivated relentlessly—testing the merging of rune formation and sword intent, crafting sigils sharper than steel.
By day he studied.
By night he trained until his body bled.
He had no master.
No guidance.
Only instinct—and the fading echo of the sword spirit's voice.
Two Years Later
Deep within the forest, a ten-year-old boy surfaced from a steaming pool. His lean body gleamed under the sun; his senses stretched outward in perfect focus.
He could feel everything within fifty meters—the heartbeat of a rabbit, the ripple of wind across leaves.
"The Revolution Mantra works," he said softly. "Body and mind as one."
He stepped onto the shore and tightened his robe. "But strength untested is just illusion. Time to find proof."
Venturing deeper into the woods, he soon found a Tier 1 Blood Wolf tearing at a carcass.
Its crimson eyes turned toward him.
Crunch.
A twig broke beneath his foot.
The wolf snarled, muscles tensing.
"Hehe… sorry to interrupt your dinner," Chu Feng muttered, inching backward.
Then he ran.
The beast howled and charged.
Chu Feng activated a low-grade rune formation he had carved earlier.
Light flared—then shattered under the wolf's claws.
"What?!"
He triggered another. It, too, broke.
Panic surged. "I miscalculated!"
He turned to flee, but his foot caught on a root. He hit the ground hard as the beast lunged—
—and instinct answered.
A flash of silver burst from his palm.
A sword of pure energy pierced the wolf's heart mid-air.
The creature fell beside him with a heavy thud, eyes wide and lifeless.
For a long moment, Chu Feng just stared, chest heaving.
"I… I'm alive?"
The sword dissolved into mist. He looked at his trembling hands, then at the fallen beast. The strike had been perfect—straight through the core.
A slow, stunned smile spread across his face.
"I'm not defective," he whispered. "I'm evolving."
Unseen above the forest canopy, faint ripples spread through the heavens—signs that the Revolution of Fate had begun.
End of Chapter 3