In this world, mortals are ants.
Stepped on by beasts.
Crushed under the heels of cultivators.
Forgotten by the sky itself.
To live without cultivation is to live without weight, without voice, without meaning.
Xuan Long had lived that life.
Powerless.
Mocked.
Discarded.
His veins had never surged with qi. His bones never trembled with power. He was born the eldest prince of a divine empire… and yet lived lower than the dogs at the palace gate.
But now?
He stepped quietly through the Lower Realm's dead forest, the dried leaves crunching beneath his bare feet. With every step, his ragged robes dragged behind him like a broken flag. The branches above groaned, creaking as if mourning something ancient.
And he remembered.
The cultivation path.
The one he had only ever read about in scrolls while watching his brothers train — eyes full of wonder, and heart full of longing.
The 10 Great Realms. The foundation of power.
Qi Vein Realm – Open the body's meridians, begin the path.
Foundation Realm – Stabilize qi flow, reinforce the body.
Core Formation – Condense power into a solid core.
Nascent Soul – Manifest a soul avatar to guide cultivation.
Soul Sea – Create a vast spiritual domain within.
Spirit King – Rule over external qi domains.
Void Step – Move between space itself, bending distance.
Sky Piercer – Split the heavens with raw intent.
Saint Body – Reforge the body into a sacred vessel.
Celestial Gate – Face divine tribulation. Ascend. Transcend. Become more.
To be anything beneath those steps…
Was to be nothing.
As the forest thinned into a rocky path, the world shifted. The shadows grew deeper, the ground firmer beneath his feet. In the distance, he could hear the distant grumble of a city—metal clinking, traders shouting, muffled footsteps beyond a stone wall.
But before he could move closer—
Three figures dropped from the trees.
Their robes were black, cheap and poorly tailored. Swords hung loosely at their hips. The stench of blood and unwashed skin clung to them like a second skin.
Bandits.
Cultivators—Qi Vein Realm, 1st Level.
The weakest of the strong.
Yet far beyond what mortals could ever face.
"Oi, what's a mortal doing out here alone?"
"No qi at all. He's just a walking sack of meat."
"Let's strip him clean and leave his bones to the rats."
They laughed.
Xuan Long didn't.
He didn't speak.
Didn't look up.
Didn't even blink.
He just stood—
Motionless.
Silent.
Like death before it chooses a name.
"Hah! Too scared to speak."
The first one lunged forward with a sneer, palm outstretched, aiming directly for Xuan Long's chest.
[DING — Devour Activated]
The moment skin touched skin, the world twisted.
A ripple in the air.
A shimmer.
A reversal.
The attacker's palm stopped mid-strike.
Then—SNAP.
His own strength turned inward. The bones in his chest collapsed. His ribs splintered like cracked porcelain. His body flung back and slammed into a tree. The crack of his spine echoed like a drumbeat through the forest.
He didn't rise.
"W-what?!"
The second bandit panicked, his fingers shaking as he pulled a talisman from his pouch. He bit the edge, igniting it in flame.
A red slash of qi-fire burst from it, slicing toward Xuan Long in a perfect arc.
[DING — Devour Activated: Qi-Type Reflected]
The flame curved in mid-air—twisting like a serpent, turning back on its master.
"N-no—!"
Too late.
The fire slammed into him with the same strength, same fury.
He screamed.
He burned.
He died.
Ash fluttered to the forest floor.
The third one turned pale, his sword forgotten in its sheath. His legs trembled.
"M-monster… stay away!"
He spun on his heel and bolted into the trees.
For the first time, Xuan Long moved.
Calmly. Without hesitation, he knelt beside the first corpse. A pouch had fallen loose in the grass. He opened it.
Inside, a small iron dagger. Blunt. Rusted at the edge. Nothing worth noting.
But it was enough.
He stood, took aim, and flicked his wrist.
SHUNK.
The blade pierced the runner's back—straight through the heart and out the chest.
He fell without a sound.
And then…
Silence.
Birds refused to chirp. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Xuan Long stood amidst the corpses, their lifeless faces twisted in pain and fear. His own expression remained untouched — no pride, no guilt, no emotion.
Then… something shifted.
His fingers flexed.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
He looked down at his hands.
"...Stronger?"
The blood on his skin felt warmer. His breath was steadier. His vision… sharper.
His muscles tightened, not with qi, but with natural resilience.
A strength that came not from cultivation.
But from survival.
[System Notification]
Heavenly Mirror: Devour
— Attack absorbed and returned.
System does not grant strength or cultivation.
Xuan Long's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"So I don't cultivate…"
"But my body… adapts?"
"I survive enough, I kill enough… and this body begins to evolve on its own?"
He flexed his palm again.
Stronger.
Not by spirit.
But by will.
"Let's test it further."
He searched the corpses calmly. From their belongings he gathered:
21 silver spirit coins
A few cracked low-grade weapons
A City Entry Token with a dull black mark — the only way to access the fortified cities of the Lower Realm.
He pocketed what he needed. With a strip of cloth, he wiped the blood from his face. Then wrapped his arms with torn fabric to cover the scars.
He looked up.
In the far distance, through the thinning trees and rising rocks, the outer walls of Blackstone City stood tall — grey, grim, and indifferent.
A mid-tier fortress town.
A place filled with merchants, mercenaries, and monsters wearing human skin.
At the gates, guards leaned lazily on spears.
Vendors shouted prices.
Children darted between wagons.
Cultivators strutted like gods among mortals.
It was a city of greed.
A city of power.
A city that cared only for strength.
And into that world—
The one they had once called "trash prince" now walked.
No longer a prince.
Not yet a monster.
But something new.
"Let the world see…"
He stepped out from the shadow of the forest, straight-backed and barefoot.
"What a mortal can do."