It was already evening, the sky was dim, and pedestrians walked in twos and threes, their steps hurried.
This year, autumn in Taiping City had arrived earlier and was colder than usual.
A vermilion high wall stood alongside the long street, blocking the swirling fallen leaves.
Bang!
A sound of something heavy hitting the ground came.
"Chirp chirp."
The little sparrows were startled, flying up from the branches, flapping their wings, and fleeing far away.
A few leaves drifted down casually, brushed past Niu Yuan's triumphant face, and landed silently on the ground.
Yang Xuan's gaunt body fell heavily to the ground, intense pain assailing his entire being.
The cold bluestone ground was chilling; falling from several meters away was an unbearable feeling.
But Yang Xuan's face was expressionless; he struggled to get up, his face blank, then he took a step, limping but with unusual determination, and walked towards Niu Yuan once more.
This was the eighth time he had gotten up.
Niu Yuan finally showed a hint of fear; he gasped, saying fiercely, "You… you crazy person, I'll let you off this time. I'll… I'll deal with you another day. We… we're leaving."
Watching Niu Yuan and his servants' retreating figures, intense pain surged through Yang Xuan, and he finally couldn't hold on, collapsing to the ground with a thud.
The sky was gray and hazy, without stars or moon.
Yang Xuan lay quietly on the ground, unmoving, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.
Just like his heart, it was utterly still.
"If this child ever gains power, the world will surely be plunged into chaos."
He remembered the words the Fortune Teller had said to his mother when he was a child.
They all thought a small child wouldn't understand, but who knew that within that tiny body resided a person from the twenty-first century Earth?
Yang Xuan gave a bitter smile; the Fortune Teller's words seemed like the greatest irony to him.
More than a decade had passed, and he had gained no power at all.
How could someone born with blocked Meridians ever gain power?
Fifteen years ago, a wisp of his soul arrived in this world, becoming a baby in the Yang Family of Taiping City, Yan Country.
Not long after his Awakening of memories, his father in this life—Yang Qingtian—passed away.
Then, an even greater tragedy struck: he was diagnosed with a naturally Waste body, unable to practice martial arts.
Such news, even with his decades of combined mental fortitude from both lives, was something he couldn't accept at once.
Someone seemed to have played a cruel joke on him, throwing him into this world only to strip him of all hope.
He stared blankly at the sky, unmoving.
The sky remained silent, hanging there coldly.
Only the distant flickering lights cast their faint glow upon this lonely child.
A cold wind rose, and the sky grew darker.
He got up from the ground and touched the bruise on his forehead, but felt no pain.
This slight pain was insignificant compared to the suffering in his heart.
The Yang Family stipulated that all Yang Family disciples must begin learning basic Inner Strength at the age of six.
Watching children his age make rapid progress in Inner Strength, while he, now fifteen, having spent almost nine years, still hadn't even felt a trace of Qi—how could an ordinary person understand the perseverance and inner torment involved?
When Yang Xuan returned to his small house, his mother, Madam Qian, was washing clothes. Seeing Yang Xuan return, she said, "Xiao Xuan, you're back?"
Before she finished speaking, she suddenly noticed the injuries on Yang Xuan's face. Her voice trembled, and she dropped the clothes she was washing, grabbing Yang Xuan anxiously and saying, "Xiao Xuan, what happened to you? Did… did they bully you again?"
Before she finished, tears were already welling up in her eyes.
Yang Xuan quickly comforted his mother, saying, "It's nothing, I just tripped while walking. It'll be fine in three to five days!"
Then he changed the subject: "Mother, I'm hungry, is there anything to eat!"
Madam Qian knew Yang Xuan's situation all too well; how could the bruise on his head be from a fall? For a moment, her heart was filled with mixed emotions. She hugged Yang Xuan tightly, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably, and choked out, "Xiao Xuan, I'm sorry, you've suffered so much…"
Yang Xuan quickly hugged his mother, saying anxiously, "Mother, how can this be your fault? It's my own incompetence, my inability to cultivate properly, that causes me to be bullied. It has nothing to do with you, Mother!"
Hearing this, Madam Qian became even more heartbroken, murmuring repeatedly, "Xuan Er, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! All of this is my fault, I shouldn't have brought you into this world."
Madam Qian was heartbroken and helpless; her sorrow could only turn into tears, wetting Yang Xuan's face!
How could Yang Xuan not understand his mother's inner sorrow? In his previous life, he was an orphan and had never experienced parental love. Therefore, in this life, he cherished this Family affection immensely.
After dinner, and after talking with his mother for a while, it was already late.
Returning to his room, he sat on the bed and practiced the basic Cultivation Technique several times, but still, there was no trace of Qi sensation.
Yang Xuan's heart was filled with confusion.
He had practiced for nine years, nine years—how many nine-year periods could one waste in a lifetime?
After the New Year, when he turned sixteen, if he still hadn't reached the third level of Inner Strength, he would be expelled from the Family, and from then on, he would have to change his surname and name, having no further connection with the Yang Family.
Ugly faces flashed continuously in his mind, vivid and clear. Yang Xuan's eyes were cold, his fists clenched tightly, and due to the excessive force, his knuckles made a crisp cracking sound.
Yang Xuan was never afraid of being expelled from the Family; he had long lost any sense of belonging to the Yang Family.
What the Yang Family brought him was only cold Family interests; leaving the Yang Family a day earlier was, for him, a form of liberation.
He could understand that in any Family, a person unable to practice martial arts would not be valued.
But understanding did not mean acceptance, especially for those who targeted him; how could he forgive them?
The wounds on his body ached, but it was less than a thousandth of the pain in his heart.
It's just, where is the Dao?
Where is the Dao?
With confusion, Yang Xuan finally fell into a deep sleep.
When he woke up again, the sky was still dark. It was still early, but Yang Xuan had lost all desire to sleep.
Feeling restless, he got up, put on his clothes, and left the small courtyard. He ran wildly as if to vent, and soon reached the back mountain of the Yang Family.
This place was already rarely visited, and with it being deep night, it was even more silent, completely deserted.
This was also a place Yang Xuan often came to when he was agitated; only here could Yang Xuan find a moment of relaxation.
Sitting against a tree, Yang Xuan stared blankly at the dark night sky, his mind filled with surging thoughts.
The sky was pitch black, just like his heart, extremely cold.
He took a deep breath, barely calming himself, stood up, straightened his clothes, and was about to leave when his gaze inadvertently swept across the sky, and he suddenly let out a soft "Eh."