The morning mist clung stubbornly to Wen Clan Mountain, curling around the ancient training towers like restless serpents. Sunlight broke through in thin, golden rays, illuminating the wide courtyard below. Hundreds of disciples moved across the stone grounds, their bodies slicing through the air with fists, kicks, and leaping spins. The ground shook faintly with the pulse of qi, and the rhythmic thuds of feet hitting stone filled the crisp morning air.
For most, this was just another day of rigorous training. For Wen Chen, it was a day that would define his destiny.
He stood at the edge of the main training field, a small, lean figure dwarfed by his peers. His chest heaved as he watched the older boys and girls perform advanced techniques, each movement a perfect blend of power and grace. Sweat glistened on their brows, and the scent of iron and grass mingled with the aroma of the morning mist.
Why am I always so weak? Wen Chen thought bitterly. He had tried to cultivate, tried to force his body, tried to follow every instruction from his elders—but his Mortal Root restricted him, keeping him far below the level of even his peers.
Wen Chen's father, Wen Jian, was a stern and commanding figure, a master of Qi Refining, and the patriarch of the Wen Clan. His approval was rare, and his gaze was like a sharpened blade, judging every movement. Wen Chen had never felt its warmth. His older brother, Wen Hao, gifted with natural Earth-grade talent, often sneered at him, calling him "the weakling of the clan."
Today, however, Wen Chen did not feel despair. A flicker of hope stirred in his chest. A strange sensation, like whispers of something unseen, danced at the edge of his awareness.
---
"Ha! You really think a Mortal Root can keep up?" a voice rang out, sharp as a whip.
Wen Ming, a boy of the same age, golden eyes bright with arrogance, stepped forward. His stance was relaxed, yet every fiber of his body radiated confidence. "Don't get in my way, Wen Chen. You'll just embarrass yourself."
Wen Chen's lips pressed together. No words. Not yet. His fight would not be in petty arguments—it would be in action.
He took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill his lungs. His small fists clenched at his sides. Around him, the training ground hummed with life:
The crack of a staff against wooden dummies.
A chorus of grunts from disciples forcing their bodies beyond limits.
Sparks of qi igniting with each strike.
---
Then, something extraordinary happened.
As Wen Chen's gaze swept across the courtyard, his eyes caught a faint shimmer of light near a practicing disciple. He blinked. A tiny, glowing orb hovered in midair, floating like a fragment of a star.
What… is that? he thought, his heart pounding.
No one else seemed to notice. The orb moved closer, as if guided by some invisible hand. Wen Chen's pulse quickened. His small fingers twitched involuntarily.
Cautiously, he reached out.
Touch.
The instant his fingertip brushed the orb, it vanished in a brilliant flare of golden light. A soft chime rang inside his mind, and a panel of glowing text appeared before his eyes.
---
[Floating Golden System Panel]
Name: Wen Chen
Cultivation Level: Body Tempering – Stage 1
Talent Grade: Mortal Root (Lowest)
Talent Progress: 0%
Luck Points: 1 → 6
Function:
Luck Points can only upgrade Talent.
Luck Orbs appear only during martial cultivation.
Orbs must be touched to absorb.
---
Wen Chen's chest swelled. A warmth spread from his fingertips through his arms, down to his chest, and settled in his heart. This was something no one else could see. No one else could understand.
His gaze darted across the courtyard. More orbs appeared—faint green, blue, red, and even white ones, hovering like fireflies above the practicing disciples. Each orb seemed to pulse with the emotions and effort of its origin.
Green orbs shimmered from those pushing their bodies through grueling physical practice.
Blue orbs floated from those comprehending new techniques, their eyes focused and intense.
Red orbs erupted from duels, glowing violently as qi clashed.
And every orb drifted toward him.
---
Wen Ming's eyes narrowed. "What are you staring at?" he demanded.
Wen Chen ignored him, his attention fixed on the orbs floating gently through the air. He lunged forward, arms outstretched. The first orb dissolved in his hand, then the next, each touch filling him with warmth, light, and a strange exhilaration.
[Luck Points +5 → 11]
A small smile crept across Wen Chen's lips. For the first time in his life, he felt the power of potential. Talent wasn't just inherited or bestowed—it could be grown, nurtured, and honed. And these orbs… these fragments of fortune… were his alone to claim.
---
Suddenly, a commotion erupted on the other side of the courtyard. Two older disciples were clashing violently, qi surging in explosive waves. Red orbs shot up from their struggling forms, spinning wildly in the air.
Wen Chen's eyes glittered. He dashed forward, dodging a fellow disciple's kick, leaping over a low swing of a staff, and stretched his hand toward the largest red orb.
Touch!
A brilliant golden explosion enveloped him. Heat coursed through his veins. His fingers tingled, his vision sharpened, and the panel flickered violently.
---
[Floating Golden System Panel]
Name: Wen Chen
Cultivation Level: Body Tempering – Stage 1
Talent Grade: Mortal Root (Lowest)
Talent Progress: 0% → 5%
Luck Points: 11 → 36
---
Wen Ming's jaw dropped. "How… how is he doing that?!"
No one else understood. They saw a small boy moving strangely, his hands flailing, yet somehow always striking the orbs in the air—but the effect, the chime, the golden light… invisible to all but him.
Wen Chen's heart pounded like a drum. Every movement, every drop of effort, every bead of sweat… it can be mine.
He darted from orb to orb, touching, absorbing, growing. His small body shivered with excitement, adrenaline, and something new: hope.
---
By the time the morning sun reached its peak, Wen Chen had absorbed dozens of orbs. His chest glowed faintly with golden warmth, and his Talent Panel blinked with increasing numbers.
He was still a child. Still weak. But a fire had been lit—a hidden fire that no one in the Wen Clan could see.
He glanced at Wen Ming, whose pride had been pierced for the first time. "I… I will surpass them all," Wen Chen whispered to himself, voice trembling with determination. "One orb… one touch… one step at a time."
And at that moment, the wind swept across the training grounds, rustling leaves, kicking up dust, and carrying a faint golden ripple across the sky.
The ripple was subtle, unnoticed by all, yet it marked the beginning of something extraordinary. A power that would rise quietly, relentlessly, and eventually shake the foundations of the Wen Clan.
Wen Chen reached for another orb, golden light dancing across his fingers, his eyes sharp, his heart pounding.
This is only the beginning.