Chapter One: Beneath the Martial Stage
The mountain peak was unusually lively.
High above the clouds, stone platforms were carved directly into the mountain's spine. Normally, this place was solemn and quiet, reserved for cultivation and martial practice. But today, the air was filled with noise—footsteps, voices, and the scraping sound of tools against stone.
Disciples ran back and forth across the mountain top, each busy with their own task.
Some were lifting shattered chunks of stone and carrying them away in woven baskets. Others knelt on the ground, scrubbing stubborn bloodstains from the cracked stone floor with wet cloths. No matter how much they wiped, faint reddish marks still lingered, seeping into the cracks of the martial stage.
The stage itself was ruined.
What was once a solid stone platform had collapsed inward, its center completely caved in. Rubble lay scattered everywhere, evidence of a violent clash that had ended only hours earlier.
Two outer disciples worked together to pry loose a large slab of stone.
One of them laughed as he spoke, clearly still excited.
"Did you see that fight earlier? Martial artists are really something else. They were moving so fast I could barely follow them with my eyes."
The other nodded eagerly.
"Especially Senior Brother Cai. That final strike—did you see it? One blow! Senior Brother Wei didn't even have time to react."
He gestured at the broken stage.
"This entire platform was made of solid stone, yet it shattered like rotten wood. Even Senior Brother Wei's teeth were knocked out. I swear I saw blood fly everywhere."
They both glanced at the stains on the ground.
"No wonder they're making us clean this place. Look at all this mess."
Nearby, several other disciples joined the conversation, their voices overlapping as they discussed the fight, each adding their own exaggerated details. Laughter and admiration filled the air as names were repeated again and again—Senior Brother Cai, Senior Brother Wei, techniques, speed, strength.
It was a world of martial glory.
Amidst all of this—
A boy silently swept the ground.
He held a worn broom, its bristles uneven and stiff. With steady, repetitive motions, he pushed broken stones and dust into small piles. He did not speak. He did not join the conversation. He simply worked.
The boy was handsome in a quiet way. His face was clean, his features sharp yet gentle, though there was a faint tiredness in his eyes. He looked no older than fourteen.
His name was Xiao Chen.
While others talked excitedly, Xiao Chen kept his head down, listening without reacting. He had long since grown used to being invisible.
After a while, he paused, leaning lightly on the broom.
He sighed.
The sound was so soft that no one noticed.
Xiao Chen still remembered the day he first came to this sect.
The Azure Cloud Sect.
Back then, his heart had been filled with excitement.
He had believed—truly believed—that his life was finally about to change.
Xiao Chen was an orphan.
He had no memories of his parents. No mother. No father. No relatives. No one had ever come looking for him. As far as the world was concerned, he had simply been left behind.
Growing up, he survived by begging.
He ate whatever scraps people threw away—cold buns, half-eaten leftovers, sometimes food pulled from trash piles. Many times, he was chased off. Sometimes beaten. Stones were thrown at him. Kicks landed on his thin body.
He was only seven years old then.
Yet he endured.
Even when he was beaten until his body was covered in bruises, he never cried. He learned early that tears did not bring mercy.
At the age of nine, his life was still the same.
That was when he often went to the scrapyard.
It was a filthy place at the edge of the city, where broken tools, rusted weapons, and useless junk were discarded. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he could find something that could be sold for a few coins.
One day, among the trash, he found a broken sword.
The blade was chipped and useless, but the hilt was intact. He sold it to a merchant and received five silver ingots.
Five.
To him, that was a fortune.
He immediately bought steamed buns and ate until his stomach hurt. That night, he slept with a full belly for the first time in a long while.
It was also that night that everything changed.
As he walked back through the scrapyard, he looked up at the sky.
A star streaked across the heavens.
At first, Xiao Chen thought it was beautiful—a shooting star.
But then he realized something was wrong.
The light grew larger.
Brighter.
Closer.
His heart began to pound.
People around the city noticed it too. Shouts rang out as everyone looked up in fear. The "star" was descending, rapidly expanding in size.
Xiao Chen stood frozen.
Only then did he realize—it was not a star.
Stars were far away. Untouchable.
This thing was coming straight toward the scrapyard.
White light flooded his vision. It was massive—no, enormous. Not the size of a star, but still as large as a mountain.
Fear seized him.
He thought, This is it.
He clenched his fists.
I haven't even grown strong yet…
Why had he been born?
Why had he been abandoned?
Why had no one ever come back for him?
If this was truly the end, then—
Boom.
A deafening sound swallowed everything.
Then, darkness.
When Xiao Chen woke up, he was no longer in the scrapyard.
He was on someone's back.
The sensation startled him. Wind rushed past his face, cold and sharp. He instinctively clung tighter.
The man carrying him spoke calmly.
"I am from the Azure Cloud Sect."
Xiao Chen was stunned.
A cultivation sect?
He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. His mind was in chaos.
Wasn't he supposed to be dead?
He looked around as best he could. The white light was gone. The ground below was rushing past them at incredible speed.
The man was running.
No—flying across the land.
Trees blurred into streaks of green. Rocks passed beneath them like shadows. Xiao Chen could feel the wind tearing at his clothes.
It was faster than any animal he had ever seen.
Before long, a massive gate appeared ahead.
Carved into stone were three grand characters:
Azure Cloud Sect
At that moment, Xiao Chen's heart trembled.
This man… was truly from a cultivation sect.
A thought formed in his mind, small but bright.
Did he save me… before that white thing struck?
Maybe fate had chosen him.
Maybe… he was special.
When the sect tested him, reality crushed that hope.
He had no talent.
He could not absorb qi—at least, that was what the elders concluded.
Xiao Chen said nothing, but in his heart, he knew the truth.
He could sense qi.
He could feel it enter his body when he followed the man's instructions.
But every time it entered, it disappeared.
Vanished.
As if something inside him swallowed it whole.
In the end, the man told him he had two choices.
Leave the sect.
Or stay as a servant.
Xiao Chen chose to stay.
At least here, he would not starve.
Five years passed in the blink of an eye.
Now, Xiao Chen was fourteen.
Still sweeping.
Still a servant.
He finished clearing the rubble and carried the debris away. As dusk approached, the mountain grew quiet again.
Xiao Chen returned to the servant quarters.
Night was coming.
And once again, he would try to absorb qi—
even if it vanished,
even if it was hopeless.
Because in this world—
Being weak meant having no right to live.
If you want next:
We continue night cultivation scene
Or transition into the strange change
Or slow build for Chapter Two
Just say the word.