Hao Jun was born on the night when the bells of Tianlu City rang twelve times. In the main hall of the Hao Family, crystal lamps shone brightly, marking the birth of a noble heir. His father held the infant with an indifferent expression, while his mother looked on with hope that was almost excessive.
"His name is Hao Jun," his father said briefly, as if the name were nothing more than a formality within the long family lineage.
That hope collapsed quickly. A city priest arrived, placed his hand on the baby's forehead, then slowly shook his head.
"There is no talent for cultivation," he said. His voice was calm, but the meaning was cruel. Hao Jun's parents laughed awkwardly, mockery hidden in their eyes. A child without talent, born into a great family—an irony. Even so, the laws of the city were strict. Killing someone alone could result in the death penalty. Thus, Hao Jun was raised, not out of love, but because of the law.
In his dream, time leapt far ahead. Hao Jun saw himself creating pills that shook the world, medicinal fragrance sweeping through the heavens, forcing alchemists to kneel. He defeated his brother, made his family lower their heads and speak his name with respect. Pride filled his chest. Then he woke up. Hao Jun scratched his face and sighed.
"So it was just a dream," he muttered.
He rose from his bed and opened the window. Tianlu City spread out beneath the morning light. People filled the streets, stalls opened, bargaining voices mixed with laughter. In the distance stood the Eastern Sky Gate—towering high, built of black stone engraved with golden runes, two jade lion statues guarding it, their eyes reflecting light as if alive. The gate was a symbol of the city's power and luxury. Hao Jun yawned lightly, enjoying the view for a moment.
He descended the spiral staircase of his home. The residence was vast and luxurious, white pillars supporting high ceilings, marking the status of an upper noble. A female guard handed him a towel. She had brown hair, fair skin, and blue eyes. Hao Jun bathed while whistling and softly singing, the sound of water filling the bathroom. When he finished, he opened the door with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Though only fifteen, his body was already quite well-built. He dressed, glanced out the window once more, then went down to the first floor.
From outside, the house looked grand and tall, with a wide courtyard and a dedicated training ground. Hao Jun went to the kitchen. Only a few dishes remained.
"They must have eaten everything," he thought. He took a plate and began to eat. Not long after, his grandfather arrived, limping. His body was hunched, one leg crippled, his eyes barely open, his speech halting. He sat in front of Hao Jun.
"Hello, Grandpa," Hao Jun greeted with a wide smile. "Did you sleep well?"
The old man nodded and took a plate. They ate together in comfortable silence. Then his grandfather mentioned a major competition in the city. Hao Jun was startled.
"When?"
"Five months from now."
"That's still far away. Besides, I won't participate," Hao Jun complained.
"You must," his grandfather said. "Experience is more important than talent."
Hao Jun turned his face away, annoyed. "My brother will win. He's the most genius in our family."
The grandfather chuckled softly. They continued eating.
Hao Jun finished first and went out. Outside, he inhaled the morning air happily and wandered around. He bought whatever food he liked. While eating, people began whispering. They mocked him as a bastard child without talent. Hao Jun heard it all, yet continued eating calmly.
At home, his grandfather was still eating when footsteps sounded. Hao Yan entered, dressed neatly, his qi aura flowing steadily around him.
"Yan'er," the grandfather said softly, "come eat with me."
Hao Yan did not reply. He took a plate and sat opposite the old man, his movements stiff. After a few bites, he asked without looking up, "Where is Hao Jun?"
"He just went out," the grandfather replied.
Hao Yan frowned. "Out again without purpose. He never trains, never takes anything seriously." His tone was cold, as if speaking of a stranger. "Just as people say—he really is a failure."
The grandfather stopped eating. His trembling hand tightened around the chopsticks, yet he did not argue. Only heavy silence remained.
Outside, Hao Jun walked through the crowded streets, chewing his food calmly, as if the ridicule were nothing more than passing wind.
He continued walking, his steps relaxed, expression serene. He stopped at a small café on a street corner. The building was simple, the wood old but clean. Behind the counter stood a thin old man with white hair and a slightly bent back. Hao Jun approached and spoke gently, "One drink."
The old man glanced at him, then nodded as if understanding everything. Without asking further, he poured beer into a clay mug and slid it forward. Hao Jun took it, went upstairs, and sat at a table near the window. From there, he watched the endless flow of people. He sipped the beer slowly, letting the bitterness spread across his tongue.
Old memories surfaced uninvited. When he was nine, the family hall had been filled with lights and laughter. A grand banquet was held. His relatives, kin, even invited guests looked at him with mockery. They laughed, pointed, called him a child born into the wrong family. Those words pierced deeper than ordinary insults. Young Hao Jun had stood silently, fists clenched, unable to respond. From that day on, doubt took root within him, slowly eroding his confidence.
He drained the last of the beer in one gulp, went downstairs, and paid. Outside, he looked up at the blue sky.
"Why is my fate like this?" he murmured. He wondered whether life would be easier had he been born into a lower family. With heavy thoughts, he walked home.
When he arrived, he saw Hao Yan meditating in a side hall, qi aura circulating steadily around him. Hao Jun merely passed through the corridor. As he was about to go upstairs, a cold voice stopped him.
"Where did you go?"
Hao Jun turned and smiled faintly. "To buy food."
Hao Yan did not reply and returned to meditation.
In his room, Hao Jun lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Time passed unnoticed. Two full hours slipped by as he drifted in thought. Suddenly, a voice called softly, "Jun'er." He did not respond. The second call was louder. Hao Jun rose and went downstairs. His father, Hao Bing, stood there impatiently.
"Sword training. Don't be lazy."
Hao Jun turned away and tried to leave, but Hao Bing grabbed his clothes and threw him into the arena. His body slammed into the ground. He saw Hao Yan before him.
"This guy is still sleeping!" Hao Jun shouted. "Do it later!"
Hao Yan's aura exploded instantly. He stood up, eyes icy.
"Who are you calling asleep, you useless brat?"
Hao Yan drew a real sword. Hao Jun panicked. "Father!" he shouted. A sword was thrown. Hao Jun turned and instinctively caught the hilt. Hao Yan sneered.
"Scared by just this?"
Without warning, he charged.
"Wait!" Hao Jun cried. He blocked, but his strength was insufficient. His sword flew from his hand, his body sent crashing away.
Hao Yan looked at him with disgust.
"You don't deserve to be born if you're this weak."
He left the arena. Nearby, Hao Bing watched as the grandfather approached and said softly, "Thank you for persuading him." The old man walked away slowly. Hao Bing snorted.
"Truly a troublesome old man and a troublesome child."
My body lay in the arena.
My breathing was heavy, and the sword in my hand had slipped away at some point.
The cheers did not reach my ears.
Only one simple thought remained—
So I really am that weak.
I stared at the same sky as before.
There was no anger. No hatred.
Only emptiness, as if this defeat had been decided long before I ever stepped into the arena.
If the world is fair, then my defeat is reasonable.
If the world records everything, then my name should be insignificant enough to be forgotten.
I closed my eyes.
And without realizing it, at that very moment—
the world recorded my defeat, but overlooked my existence.