The morning mist clung to the Nine Celestial Peaks like a shroud of forgotten dreams. High above the clouds, where immortals once walked and legends were born, the Celestial Dawn Sect stood as a monument to cultivation—its nine towering peaks piercing the heavens, each crowned with palatial halls that gleamed like stars.
But Lin Feng had never seen those halls.
His world existed far below, in the valley of servants' quarters where the mist was thicker, the air colder, and hope died quietly in the shadows.
"Move it, waste!"
The boot connected with his ribs before he could react, sending him sprawling across the wet stone courtyard. The wooden bucket he'd been carrying crashed to the ground, water spilling across the frost-covered tiles like scattered tears.
Pain blossomed in his side, sharp and familiar. Lin Feng bit down on his tongue, tasting copper, forcing himself not to cry out. Don't give them the satisfaction.
"Still alive? I swear, cockroaches have more dignity than you." Zhao Kun loomed over him, a sneer twisting his handsome features. At twenty-five, the older disciple had reached the Nascent Soul Realm—a cultivation level that placed him among the sect's elite. His crimson robes bore the silver Phoenix emblem of an Elite Disciple, a rank as far above Lin Feng as the heavens were above the earth.
Three other Elite Disciples stood behind Zhao Kun, laughing. Their spiritual pressure pressed down like invisible hands, making it hard to breathe.
"Senior Brother Zhao, why waste your time on this trash?" one of them chuckled. "He's been here fourteen years and hasn't even reached Foundation Establishment. At twenty-two, he's practically ancient for a cultivator. Might as well be mortal."
"Fourteen years of eating our sect's rice for nothing," another spat. "Should've been thrown out years ago."
Lin Feng pushed himself up slowly, carefully. His brown servant's robe was soaked through, clinging to his thin frame. At twenty-two, he should have been in his prime, but fourteen years of malnutrition and endless labor had left him lean and worn. His black hair, tied in a simple tail, was matted with dirt and water.
"I... I apologize, Senior Brother Zhao." The words came automatically now, practiced over countless repetitions. "I'll clean this up immediately—"
"You think an apology fixes anything?" Zhao Kun's hand shot out, grabbing Lin Feng by the collar and hauling him up until their faces were inches apart. The Elite Disciple's breath reeked of expensive spirit wine. "You know what today is, don't you?"
Lin Feng's mind raced. What did I forget? What rule did I break this time?
"It's the day our illustrious Sacred Disciple returns from her closed-door cultivation," Zhao Kun continued, his voice dripping with mock reverence. "Yun Qingxue, the Ice Goddess herself, will grace us with her presence this afternoon. The entire sect will be spotless for her arrival. And yet here you are, spilling water like an incompetent child."
"I understand, Senior Brother. I'll—"
"You'll what? Clean it up?" Zhao Kun laughed, releasing Lin Feng's collar and shoving him backward. "No. You'll report to Elder Shen at the Herb Gardens. Apparently, some rare spirit herbs need collecting from the back mountains. Dangerous work." His smile widened. "Perfect for someone as... expendable as you."
The back mountains. Lin Feng's stomach twisted. The forbidden zone where disciples regularly disappeared. Where spiritual beasts roamed and ancient formations still pulsed with deadly energy.
"But Senior Brother, I'm not authorized to—"
"Now it's an order." Zhao Kun's expression hardened. "Refuse, and I'll report you for insubordination. You know what happens to servants who disobey Elite Disciples, don't you?"
Expulsion. Or worse.
Lin Feng lowered his head, fists clenched at his sides. "I... understand, Senior Brother Zhao. I'll go immediately."
"That's what I thought." Zhao Kun turned away, his laughter echoing across the courtyard. "Come on, brothers. Let's get some real breakfast. Watching trash grovel always makes me hungry."
As their footsteps faded, Lin Feng stood alone in the spreading puddle, his reflection staring back at him from the water's surface. Twenty-two years old. Fourteen years in the Celestial Dawn Sect. Still a Disciple Servant—the absolute lowest rank.
The Eternal Waste. That's what they called him. The boy with broken meridians who could barely cultivate at all.
He'd arrived at the sect as an eight-year-old orphan, discovered half-frozen on the sect's doorstep during a winter storm. The Patriarch, in a rare moment of mercy, had allowed him to stay. "Every life has value," the ancient cultivator had said. "Perhaps his path simply differs from ours."
But fourteen years later, that path had led nowhere. While disciples his age had reached Core Condensation or even Nascent Soul, Lin Feng had barely managed to touch the first level of Mortal Awakening. His meridians were fractured, twisted—like trying to channel a river through broken pottery. No amount of effort could overcome a fundamental flaw in his spiritual channels.
And so he cleaned. Swept floors. Carried water. Endured.
Why do I stay? The question whispered through his mind as he picked up the fallen bucket. Why not just leave?
But he knew the answer. Out there, beyond the sect's protective formations, the world was even crueler to the weak. At least here he had food, shelter, and—
"Lin Feng!"
The voice was soft, musical, cutting through his dark thoughts like sunlight through storm clouds.
He turned to see Xiao Ling running toward him, her small frame bundled in a thick servant's robe. At fifteen, the girl was like a younger sister to him—one of the few people in the sect who treated him as human rather than furniture.
"Xiao Ling, you shouldn't—"
"I saw what happened!" She skidded to a stop in front of him, her round face flushed with anger. "That bastard Zhao Kun! Someone should report him to the Disciplinary Hall!"
"Keep your voice down," Lin Feng said urgently, glancing around the empty courtyard. "If anyone hears you talking about an Elite Disciple like that—"
"I don't care! It's not fair!" Tears welled in her eyes. "You work harder than anyone. You memorize all those cultivation manuals from the library even though you can't use them. You help everyone who asks. And they treat you like... like..."
"Like exactly what I am." Lin Feng's voice was quiet, resigned. "A servant with no cultivation talent. That's the way of this world, Xiao Ling. The strong command, the weak obey."
"But you're not weak!" she protested. "Your mind is sharper than any of those arrogant 'geniuses.' I've heard you explain cultivation theories to other servants better than some of the instructors!"
A sad smile tugged at Lin Feng's lips. "What good is understanding when you can't practice? It's like knowing how to fly but having no wings."
Xiao Ling wiped her eyes furiously. "One day... one day you'll show them all. I know it."
Such innocent faith. Lin Feng reached out and ruffled her hair gently. "Thank you, little sister. But right now, I need to prepare for the back mountains. Elder Shen is waiting."
Her eyes widened. "The back mountains? No! That's too dangerous! People die there!"
"I know." He picked up the empty bucket. "But I don't have a choice. If I refuse, I'll be expelled."
"Then I'm coming with you!"
"Absolutely not." His voice turned stern. "You have talent, Xiao Ling. You've reached Foundation Establishment at fifteen—that's excellent progress. Don't throw away your future because of me."
"But—"
"No." He softened his tone. "Listen, I'll be careful. I'll just collect whatever herbs Elder Shen needs and come straight back. I've survived fourteen years in this sect—I can survive one trip to the mountains."
Xiao Ling looked unconvinced, but finally nodded reluctantly. "Promise me you'll come back safely."
"I promise." The lie came easily. What else can I say?
As she trudged back toward the kitchens, Lin Feng allowed himself one moment of stillness. The morning sun was burning away the mist now, revealing the magnificent nine peaks in all their glory. Somewhere up there, in those celestial halls, Yun Qingxue—the legendary Ice Goddess—would soon return from her cultivation retreat.
He'd never seen her in person. Sacred Disciples lived in a different world, breathing rarified air that servants couldn't even dream of. They said she was the most beautiful woman in three provinces, with cultivation talent that appeared once in a thousand years. At only twenty years old, she'd reached the Divine Domain Realm, a feat that placed her among the sect's top twenty most powerful cultivators.
What must it be like? Lin Feng wondered. To have that much power. To be respected, feared, admired.
He shook his head, banishing the foolish thought. Some people were born as dragons. Others as ants. He'd long ago accepted which category he belonged to.
The walk to Elder Shen's herb gardens took twenty minutes, weaving through the servants' quarters and past the outer disciples' training grounds. Everywhere he went, eyes slid past him as if he were invisible. Fourteen years had taught him to move like a ghost—present but unnoticed.
Elder Shen's gardens occupied a terraced hillside on the sect's eastern edge, where the spiritual energy was slightly denser. The old cultivator had been stuck at Golden Transformation Realm for three hundred years, his advancement long stalled. Now he spent his days tending spirit herbs, a task beneath most cultivators but crucial to the sect's alchemy halls.
"Lin Feng!" The elder looked up from where he was pruning a bush of Crimson Sage. At four hundred years old, he appeared like a weathered sixty-year-old, his beard more white than black. "Right on time. Good."
"Elder Shen." Lin Feng bowed respectfully. Unlike many cultivators, Elder Shen had always treated him with basic courtesy. "Senior Brother Zhao said you needed someone to collect herbs from the back mountains?"
The elder's expression clouded. "Did he now?" He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "arrogant little peacock," then sighed. "I did mention needing some Azure Spirit Moss, but I never specified it had to be collected today. The back mountains are dangerous, boy."
"I understand, Elder. But I've been ordered to go."
Elder Shen studied him for a long moment, his ancient eyes seeing more than most. "Zhao Kun is trying to get rid of you. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, Elder."
"And you're going anyway?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Another sigh. "No, I suppose you don't." The elder walked into his storage shed and emerged with a worn leather pack. "Take this. Inside you'll find a basic map of the safe paths—relatively safe, anyway—and some healing salves in case you encounter thorns or minor spirit beasts. The Azure Spirit Moss grows near the base of the third valley, by the old stone markers. Collect three handfuls—no more, no less. The moss needs time to regenerate."
Lin Feng accepted the pack, surprised by its weight. "Thank you, Elder Shen."
"Don't thank me yet." The old cultivator's expression was grim. "The back mountains are forbidden for a reason, boy. Ancient formations from the sect's founding era still linger there, unpredictable and deadly. Spirit beasts that even Core Condensation disciples struggle with roam freely. And there are... other things. Older things."
"I'll be careful, Elder."
"Careful." Elder Shen shook his head. "Careful is what keeps you alive in the training grounds. In the back mountains, you need to be lucky. And luck..." He trailed off, leaving the obvious unsaid.
Luck favors the strong.
Lin Feng bowed again and turned to leave.
"Boy." Elder Shen's voice stopped him. "If... if you find yourself in real danger, and there's absolutely no other choice... head for the deep valleys. The formations there are so strong that even spirit beasts avoid them. You might die to an ancient trap, but at least it'll be quick. Better than being eaten alive."
The casual way he said it made Lin Feng's blood run cold. "I... understand. Thank you, Elder."
As he walked away, he heard the old cultivator mutter: "Fourteen years you've survived when everyone expected you to fail. Maybe you're luckier than you look."
The path to the back mountains wound through dense bamboo forests where spiritual energy grew wild and untamed. Lin Feng had been walking for two hours when the sect's protective formations finally faded behind him, that subtle pressure of safety evaporating like morning dew.
The forest changed immediately. The bamboo grew twisted and dark, their leaves rattling with no wind to move them. Strange bird calls echoed from the canopy—sounds that weren't quite bird-like. The temperature dropped ten degrees, and Lin Feng's breath misted in the air despite it being late spring.
He consulted Elder Shen's map, trying to match the crude drawings to his surroundings. The "safe" path—marked with dotted lines—wound between two mountain peaks and descended into a valley where the Azure Spirit Moss supposedly grew.
Three handfuls. In and out. Simple.
Nothing was ever simple.
He'd walked for another hour, following game trails and avoiding areas where the spiritual energy felt too dense, when he heard it—a low, rumbling growl that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Lin Feng froze.
Spirit beast.
His hand instinctively went to the small knife at his belt—a pathetic weapon against anything that could survive in these mountains, but it was all he had. His cultivation was too weak to channel even basic techniques. If something attacked him, he would die.
The growling grew louder, closer. Through the twisted bamboo, he caught glimpses of something massive moving parallel to the path. Four-legged. Covered in midnight-black fur. Eyes that glowed like embers.
Shadow Wolf. Lin Feng's blood turned to ice. Even a regular wolf was dangerous, but Shadow Wolves were spirit beasts of the Core Condensation level minimum. They hunted in packs, manipulated darkness itself, and could kill a dozen mortal soldiers without breaking stride.
Don't run. Running triggers the chase instinct. Stay calm. Move slowly.
But his body betrayed him. His heart hammered. His hands trembled. The wolf's head turned toward him, those burning eyes locking onto his position.
Lin Feng did the only thing he could think of.
He ran.
Behind him, the forest exploded with motion. The Shadow Wolf's howl pierced the air—a sound of hunger and death that made his bones ache. More howls answered from different directions.
A pack. I'm dead.
He crashed through undergrowth, branches whipping his face, roots trying to trip him. The pack's howls grew closer, flanking him, herding him like prey. Which, he realized with terrible clarity, was exactly what he was.
The ground disappeared beneath his feet.
One moment he was running, the next he was falling, the world spinning in a chaos of green and brown and sky. He'd run straight off a cliff—or into a concealed ravine, he couldn't tell which. The impact drove the air from his lungs, and then he was rolling, tumbling down a steep embankment covered in loose stones and thorny vines.
Pain exploded across his body—ribs, shoulder, head. The world became a blur of agony and vertigo. He tried to grab onto something, anything, but his hands found only air and thorns.
Finally, mercifully, he stopped.
Lin Feng lay in darkness, gasping for breath that wouldn't come. Every part of his body screamed. Warm blood trickled down his face from a gash on his scalp. His left arm wouldn't move properly—dislocated or broken, he couldn't tell which.
Above, distantly, he heard the Shadow Wolves sniffing around the ravine's edge. One howled in frustration. But they didn't descend. After several tense minutes, their sounds faded as they moved on to seek easier prey.
I'm alive. Somehow, I'm alive.
He allowed himself thirty seconds of shuddering breaths before the reality of his situation sank in. He was badly injured, lost, deep in the forbidden zone, with no way to call for help and no ability to heal himself through cultivation.
Elder Shen was right. I should have been more lucky.
Lin Feng forced himself to sit up, biting back a scream as his ribs protested. In the dim light filtering through the ravine opening above, he could barely make out his surroundings. He'd fallen into some kind of narrow gorge, maybe twenty feet deep, its walls covered in roots and ancient stone.
And there, barely visible through the curtain of hanging vines, was an opening in the rock face.
A cave.
For several minutes, Lin Feng simply stared at it. Every survival instinct screamed at him to avoid unknown caves in forbidden zones. But he was injured, defenseless, and night was approaching. Spirit beasts became more active after dark. If he stayed exposed in the ravine, he was dead. If he tried to climb out with his injuries, he'd fall and die.
The cave was his only option.
What a choice. Die out here, or die in there.
He laughed—a sound somewhere between hysteria and resignation. Twenty-two years of surviving, and it would end in a cave in the forbidden mountains. At least no one would find his body. No one to see the "Eternal Waste" in his final, pathetic state.
Using his good arm and considerable willpower, Lin Feng dragged himself toward the cave entrance. The pain was exquisite, each movement a fresh torture. Blood left a dark trail behind him on the ancient stone.
The vines parted easily—too easily, as if they'd been waiting. Beyond them, the cave mouth yawned like the entrance to the underworld itself.
Cold air washed over him, carrying with it a scent he couldn't identify. Not decay. Not earth. Something else. Something... old.
This is a mistake. Turn back.
But there was nothing to turn back to. Death waited in the ravine. At least in the cave, there was shelter. Maybe long enough to bind his wounds and think of a plan.
Who am I kidding? There is no plan. I'm going to die here.
With that cheerful thought, Lin Feng pulled himself through the cave entrance and into absolute darkness.
For a moment, nothing. Just the sound of his ragged breathing and the drip of water somewhere deeper in the cave system.
Then, gradually, his eyes adjusted—or rather, something else happened. A faint light began to grow, emanating from the cave walls themselves. Not torchlight or spiritual energy, but something stranger. Ancient runes carved into the stone, glowing with a soft silver radiance that pulsed like a heartbeat.
Lin Feng's breath caught.
Formations. Ancient formations. Still active.
The runes were unlike anything he'd seen in the sect's libraries—and he'd memorized thousands of formation diagrams during his years cleaning the Grand Library. These were older, more complex, written in a style that predated the sect itself.
Following the glowing runes, he dragged himself deeper into the cave. The passage widened, then opened into a chamber that made his heart stop.
It was vast—impossibly vast for a cave hidden in a ravine. The ceiling soared fifty feet overhead, supported by natural stone pillars that had been carved with more of those ancient runes. But that wasn't what stole his breath.
In the center of the chamber, seated in a meditation posture on a raised dais of jade, was a skeleton.
Not just any skeleton. Even without flesh, without life, the remains radiated an aura of such profound power that Lin Feng felt like an ant standing before a dragon. The bones were crystalline, translucent, shot through with veins of silver and black that still pulsed with residual energy. The skeleton wore robes that had somehow survived the ages—midnight blue silk embroidered with silver stars that seemed to shift and move in the dim light.
And there, hovering in the air before the skeleton's forehead, was a tablet of jade.
Lin Feng couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. His injuries forgotten, his despair forgotten, everything forgotten except the impossible reality before him.
An Immortal. This is the burial chamber of an Immortal.
The jade tablet pulsed once, and a voice filled the chamber—ancient, powerful, tinged with sadness and resignation.
"If you can hear this, then the heavens have not been entirely cruel. You have found the final resting place of Void Emperor Shen Yuan, who once stood at the peak of cultivation and touched the very essence of reality itself."
The voice paused, as if considering its next words carefully.
"I was betrayed by those I called brothers. Murdered by those who coveted what I had achieved. But before I fell, I left this inheritance for one simple reason: I too was once like you. Broken. Worthless. Cast aside by fate."
Lin Feng's eyes widened.
"My meridians were shattered at birth, just as yours are fractured now. I could not cultivate through normal means. The world called me waste, trash, defective. For sixteen years, I endured their scorn, their pity, their disgust."
The words resonated in Lin Feng's chest like hammer blows.
"But I refused to accept that destiny. I created a new path—the Inverse Void Dao. A cultivation method that defies heaven itself, that turns weakness into strength, that transforms the void within into absolute power."
The jade tablet flared brighter.
"It is dangerous. It is forbidden. The heavens themselves will mark you as heretic. But it is also the ONLY path for those like us—those born broken in a world that worships perfection."
The skeleton's eye sockets seemed to stare directly at Lin Feng.
"If you wish to live. If you wish to grow strong. If you wish to spit in the face of the fate that has ground you into dust... then take my inheritance. Take the Inverse Void Dao. Take everything I have left behind."
A pause, heavy with meaning.
"But know this: once you begin this path, there is no turning back. You will be hunted by the righteous. You will be coveted by the wicked. You will be challenged by the heavens themselves. Many will try to kill you. Many will succeed if you are weak."
Another pulse of light.
"But if you survive... if you master what I have left behind... then one day you will stand where I once stood. At the peak. Looking down at a world that called you nothing and proving them all wrong."
The jade tablet drifted closer to Lin Feng, hovering just within reach.
"The choice is yours, child of broken fate. Die here in darkness as the world expects, forgotten and unmourned... or take the first step on a path that will shake the heavens themselves."
Lin Feng stared at the tablet. At the skeleton of the Void Emperor. At the chamber that defied reality.
Twenty-two years. Fourteen years in the sect. A lifetime of humiliation, mockery, of being less than nothing.
The Eternal Waste.
His hand trembled as he reached out.
No more.
His fingers touched the jade.
The world exploded into light.
END OF CHAPTER 1
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 2: THE SEVEN DAYS OF REBIRTH