The wind howled through the jagged peaks of Willow Mountain, carrying with it the scent of pine, dirt, and… trouble. High atop a narrow cliff, a young boy crouched behind a rock, trembling like a leaf in a storm. His name was Li Yan, though for now, he wished no one knew it.
"Why me? Why does danger always find me?" he whispered, hugging his knees.
It was true—Li Yan was small, scrawny, and hopelessly untrained. His clothes were patched rags, his shoes had more holes than soles, and his stomach growled in protest. Yet here he was, stuck between a cliff edge and the roaring entrance of the Black Fang Bandits.
"They probably won't notice me… maybe…" Li Yan muttered, pressing his back against the cold stone. Then, a shout rang out.
"Hey! You there! Little runt! Come down and give us your valuables!"
Li Yan's eyes widened. Runt? Little? Oh no… they know I'm here.
He considered running—but the cliff was narrow, the drop deadly. He considered fighting—but the bandits looked like they could crush him like a melon. His best option? Hide and hope they leave.
Just then, something strange happened. A flicker of light danced on the tip of his fingers. He had been unaware of it until now, but a faint warmth—the tiniest spark of spiritual energy—pulsed inside him.
"Huh…?" Li Yan muttered, poking at his palm. "Is this… magic?!"
The bandits, too busy laughing at his pathetic attempt to stay hidden, didn't notice the faint glow. Li Yan panicked. He clenched his fist—and a tiny, black spark of energy shot out, zipping through the air like a firefly. It struck a tree branch, which cracked and fell onto the bandits' path.
"AHHHHHH!" one screamed as he tripped over the branch. Chaos erupted. Li Yan, wide-eyed, had accidentally… saved himself.
"W-what just happened?" he whispered, his heart racing. The spark in his palm disappeared, leaving only a faint warmth.
For the first time, Li Yan realized: maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely useless.
But as he backed away from the cliff, another, more menacing shadow appeared. A tall figure draped in black, with eyes sharp as knives, stepped silently from the treeline. The Overpowered Mastermind—though Li Yan didn't know him yet—watched, amused.
"He has potential," the figure murmured. "If only he survives this world long enough to awaken it."
Li Yan, oblivious, picked up a stick and brandished it like a sword. "Back! Evil shadow man! I—I have powers now!"
The shadow's lips twitched. A smirk? Maybe. Or a snarl. Li Yan didn't stick around to find out. He bolted down the mountain, tripping over roots, crashing into rocks, and yelling at everything in sight: "I'M A WARRIOR! DON'T TOUCH ME, EVIL PEOPLE!"
The wind carried his shrieks far into the valley below. Birds scattered. A goat jumped. And somewhere, far away in a hidden cave, a sect elder shook his head.
"That boy… will either become a disaster… or a legend," the elder said quietly.
Li Yan ran. And, unbeknownst to him, his life of chaos, comedy, and terrifying power-building had just begun.