The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Verdant Cloud Mountains, carrying with it the faint scent of iron and ash. Beneath a sky bruised with storm clouds, a lone figure knelt beside a crumbling stone altar, his tattered robes fluttering like the wings of a dying moth. Lin Feng's hands trembled as he clutched a rusted sword, its blade chipped and dull, a pitiful reflection of his own broken spirit.
At sixteen, Lin Feng was an outcast of the Lin Clan, a boy born with a crippled spirit vein that rendered him unable to cultivate properly. In a world where strength determined one's worth, he was less than nothing—a blemish on the clan's honor, a weed among towering oaks. His peers had long since surpassed him, their bodies tempered by qi, their eyes gleaming with the arrogance of those touched by the heavens. Lin Feng, however, was trapped at the first layer of the Body Tempering Realm, his meridians as stagnant as a dried riverbed.
"Useless," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. His fingers tightened around the sword's hilt, the cold metal biting into his calloused palms. "Even this blade mocks me."
The sword had been his father's, the only relic left to him after the man vanished ten years ago during a beast tide that ravaged the clan's outer territories. Lin Feng's mother had died shortly after, her heart broken by grief. The clan elders, once respectful of his father's prowess, turned their backs on the orphan boy, deeming him unworthy of their resources. To them, Lin Feng was a burden, a reminder of a lineage that had fallen from grace.
Today, he had come to the ancestral altar, a forgotten shrine tucked away in the mountains, to offer a prayer for strength. It was a desperate act, born of countless nights spent staring at the stars, wondering why the heavens had cursed him. He had no offerings save the sword, no incense or spirit stones to burn. All he had was his resolve, fragile as it was.
Lin Feng raised the blade, intending to place it on the altar, when a sharp crack echoed through the air. The sword, weakened by years of neglect, snapped in two, its upper half clattering against the stone. Lin Feng froze, his heart sinking. Even this final gesture, this plea to his ancestors, had been denied.
"Is this my fate?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "To be broken, like this blade?"
As if in answer, the storm clouds above churned, and a bolt of crimson lightning tore through the sky, striking the altar with a deafening roar. Lin Feng was thrown backward, his body slamming into the rocky ground. Pain flared through his limbs, but he barely noticed, his eyes fixed on the altar. The stone was split down the middle, and from its core emerged a faint, pulsating light—a sphere of golden energy no larger than a fist.
"What… what is this?" Lin Feng staggered to his feet, his heart pounding. The sphere hovered before him, its surface rippling like liquid gold. A voice, ancient and resonant, echoed in his mind, each word carrying the weight of a mountain.
"Initiate detected. Binding Celestial Forge System to host soul."
Lin Feng's knees buckled as a surge of energy flooded his body. It was unlike anything he had ever felt—not the gentle warmth of qi, but a torrent of raw power that seared his meridians and ignited his spirit vein. He gasped, clutching his chest as visions flashed before his eyes: towering forges blazing with divine fire, weapons that could sunder the heavens, elixirs that shimmered with the essence of stars. And at the center of it all, a single word burned into his consciousness: Forge.
"Binding complete. Host: Lin Feng. Cultivation: Body Tempering Realm, First Layer. System functions unlocked: Artifact Forging, Elixir Refining, Technique Synthesis. Initial task assigned: Repair the Broken Blade."
The voice faded, leaving Lin Feng trembling. The golden sphere dissolved into his chest, and in its place, a translucent interface appeared before his eyes, like a scroll woven from light. It displayed his name, cultivation level, and a series of tasks, the first of which glowed brightly: Repair the Broken Blade.
Lin Feng stared at the broken sword, its halves lying forlornly on the altar. Repair it? He was no blacksmith, no artificer. He had never held a hammer, let alone forged a weapon. Yet the system's command was clear, and the energy coursing through him felt… alive, as if it yearned to create.
Tentatively, he reached for the sword's fragments. The moment his fingers touched the metal, the interface flared, and a stream of information flooded his mind. It was a blueprint, a guide to reforging the blade, complete with materials, techniques, and even the precise temperature of the forge. Lin Feng's eyes widened. The system wasn't just giving him power—it was teaching him, guiding him like a master to a disciple.
But there was a problem. The blueprint required materials he didn't have: Iron Essence, Spirit Sand, and a drop of Beast Blood. Lin Feng's shoulders slumped. He was deep in the mountains, far from any market or clan storehouse. Where could he find such things?
As if sensing his doubt, the system's voice returned, cold and commanding. "Host must seek the materials within the Verdant Cloud Mountains. Iron Essence lies in the veins of the Ironclaw Ridge. Spirit Sand can be found in the Crystal Stream. Beast Blood must be harvested from a Tier 1 demonic beast."
Lin Feng's heart sank further. The Verdant Cloud Mountains were perilous, home to beasts that could tear a Body Tempering cultivator apart with ease. Ironclaw Ridge was a treacherous maze of cliffs, and the Crystal Stream was guarded by territorial spirit fish. As for a demonic beast… even the weakest Tier 1 creature was a death sentence for someone like him.
Yet, as he gazed at the broken sword, something stirred within him. For years, he had been called useless, a failure. He had endured the scorn of his clan, the pity of his peers, the weight of his own despair. This system, this Celestial Forge, was a chance—a spark in the darkness. If he turned back now, he would be no different from the boy who knelt at this altar, praying for a miracle that would never come.
"I'll do it," he said, his voice steady for the first time that day. "I'll forge the blade."
With newfound resolve, Lin Feng gathered the sword's fragments and tucked them into his robes. The system's interface provided a map, a glowing path that led toward Ironclaw Ridge. As he set out, the storm began to clear, and a single ray of sunlight pierced the clouds, illuminating the path ahead. It felt like a sign, a whisper from the heavens that his journey had just begun.
The trek to Ironclaw Ridge took hours, each step a test of Lin Feng's endurance. The terrain was unforgiving, with loose rocks and thorny vines that tore at his already ragged clothes. By the time he reached the ridge, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the jagged cliffs. The air was thick with the metallic tang of iron, and Lin Feng's heart raced as he followed the system's guidance to a narrow crevice in the rock.
The crevice was barely wide enough for him to squeeze through, but inside, he found what the system had promised: a vein of Iron Essence, glowing faintly with a silvery light. It was embedded in the stone, its surface pulsing like a living thing. Lin Feng had no tools, no pickaxe, but the system's voice guided him once more.
"Channel the system's energy into your hands. Extract the essence with intent."
Lin Feng closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth in his chest where the system had merged with his soul. Slowly, he felt the energy flow to his fingertips, a tingling sensation that made his hands glow faintly. He pressed them against the Iron Essence, and to his amazement, the stone crumbled, releasing a small, shimmering orb of metal.
"I… I did it," he breathed, holding the orb in his hands. It was lighter than he expected, yet it thrummed with power. One material down, two to go.
Emboldened, Lin Feng continued his journey, the system's map leading him to the Crystal Stream. The stream was a ribbon of sparkling water, its banks lined with fine, luminescent sand. The Spirit Sand was easy to collect, though Lin Feng had to fend off a school of aggressive spirit fish that nipped at his ankles. By the time he had gathered enough, his legs were bleeding, but he felt a strange pride. He was no longer the useless boy of the Lin Clan. He was becoming something more.
The final task was the most daunting: harvesting Beast Blood. The system directed him to a forested valley where a Tier 1 demonic beast, a Ironhide Boar, was known to roam. Lin Feng's heart pounded as he crept through the trees, his only weapon a sharpened stick he had fashioned from a branch. He had no combat techniques, no qi to enhance his strength. All he had was the system and his will to survive.
The boar appeared at dusk, its massive form crashing through the underbrush. Its hide gleamed like polished steel, and its tusks were as long as Lin Feng's arm. Fear gripped him, but the system's voice was relentless. "Strike the beast's underbelly. Use the terrain to your advantage."
Lin Feng lured the boar toward a narrow ravine, using his agility to stay out of its reach. His heart thundered as he climbed a tree, waiting for the beast to charge beneath him. When it did, he dropped, driving the stick into its underbelly with all his strength. The boar roared, thrashing wildly, but Lin Feng held on, his hands slick with blood. Finally, the beast collapsed, and Lin Feng, panting and bruised, collected the blood in a hollow gourd.
Exhausted but triumphant, he returned to the ancestral altar, the materials in hand. The system guided him through the forging process, conjuring a spectral forge that blazed with divine fire. Lin Feng followed its instructions, his hands moving with a precision he didn't know he possessed. The Iron Essence melted into the blade, the Spirit Sand polished its edge, and the Beast Blood tempered its core. When the process was complete, the sword gleamed like a star, its blade etched with faint runes that pulsed with power.
"Task complete. Broken Blade reforged. Reward: Basic Forging Technique unlocked. Cultivation advanced to Body Tempering Realm, Second Layer."
Lin Feng felt a surge of qi flood his meridians, his body growing stronger, his spirit vein pulsing with life. He lifted the sword, its weight perfect in his hands. For the first time in years, he smiled.
"This is only the beginning," he said, his eyes blazing with determination. "With this system, I will forge my own path to the heavens."
As the stars emerged above the Verdant Cloud Mountains, Lin Feng set out, the reforged sword at his side, ready to face whatever trials awaited him.