In the cultivation world of Xuanhua, talent was not a blessing—it was a verdict. From the moment a child was tested, their future was decided. Those with strong spirit roots were lifted toward the heavens, while those without were crushed beneath them. Li Shen belonged to the latter.
At seventeen, Li Shen worked as a servant in the Azure Cloud Sect. Every day began before dawn. He carried water up stone stairs slick with moss, scrubbed bloodstains from training grounds, and endured insults as casually as breathing. Disciples passed him without a glance or shoved him aside when the mood struck. To them, he was less than mortal—he was proof of failure.
Years ago, he had stood where they stood now, hand pressed against a glowing spirit crystal. While others lit it with fire, wind, or lightning, Li Shen's crystal had remained dark. Silent. Empty. The elders' disappointment had been colder than anger. He was dismissed in a single sentence: "No spirit root. No future."
Yet Li Shen did not leave.
At night, after his body ached and his hands bled, he climbed a forbidden path behind the sect. It led to a crumbling plateau where an ancient dragon statue lay broken and forgotten. Its eyes were hollow, its stone cracked by time, but Li Shen felt drawn to it.
He sat beneath it, breathing slowly, copying the cultivation manuals he had overheard others discussing. Nothing happened. No Qi answered him. Still, he returned night after night.
"I won't accept this," he whispered into the cold air. "If Heaven won't choose me, then I'll climb up and face it myself."
The wind howled softly, brushing the broken dragon's stone wings.
Above him, the clouds stirred.
Unseen by Li Shen, something ancient began to awaken.