Drip... drip...
The world was silent—yet not still.
Lin Ye floated in a sea of darkness, his body weightless, his mind adrift. Faint whispers called from the depths, laced with memories too distant to grasp.
A soft light fell on the ground
the soft glow of moonlight filtering through crimson clouds.
He was dreaming or was it a memory...
A pair of stern eyes stared down at him. Behind them stood the towering gates of the Blood Moon Sect, carved with ancient symbols that bled a faint scarlet hue.
"Name?"
"…Lin Ye."
The man scoffed. "An orphan from the borderlands, huh? Tch. Another stray looking for shelter."
And yet—he opened the gates.
That was the day it began.
....
At an age when most children chased fireflies..
Each step he took was a silent prayer to see another dawn.
He remembered the first words they spoke to him:
"Trash like this wants to become a cultivator? Hah."
"Maybe they brought him in as a joke."
Days turned to weeks.
They gave him a room barely larger than a broom closet and tossed him stale bread like feeding a dog. No one taught him. No one helped. When others trained with Yuan Qi and formed their core, he could only watch from a distance—alone.
And yet, he stayed.
No tears. No begging. Just silence.
The dream shifted—
He now sat under an old willow tree near the edge of the outer sect grounds. The sun filtered through the leaves, casting trembling shadows on his frail body. A lone stalk of grass jutted from his lips, a quiet companion to his silence.
He leaned back against the trunk, eyes fixed on his small palm.
"I don't think I can ever be a cultivator…" he muttered to himself, voice low and bitter. "Not with a body like this."
He clenched his hand, veins faintly visible beneath the skin.
"Every time I try to use Yuan Qi… I end up coughing blood. My head spins. My chest burns. Like the world itself is rejecting me."
He glanced toward the distant training grounds, where silhouettes danced in the light—young cultivators, refining their techniques, drawing admiration.
But no one looked his way.
He was not one of them.
He never had been.
And perhaps... he never would be.
Time passed like shadows fleeing a dying flame.
Lin Ye, barely taller than the sword he once tried to lift, was thrown into the chaos of the Blood Moon Sect's warring years. He had no cultivation, no backing, no name. Yet fate seemed to toss him again and again into the jaws of death—and somehow, he always crawled back out.
He remembered it all.
Years flowing by in a blur.
Blood. Screams. Ash.
The finest disciples—geniuses with spirit roots, masters of blades and flames—fell like insects. Their corpses littered the battlefield, faces twisted in agony and disbelief. Lin Ye watched them fall, again and again, while he, a lowly errand boy, somehow clung to life through shattered bones and blood-choked lungs.
A flicker of envy in some eyes.
A glimmer of suspicion in others.
But no one cared long enough to question why he kept surviving.
Not even him.
He had no sword. No master. Only bruised knuckles, tattered robes, and the iron will to keep breathing when the world demanded he stop.
Each scar etched across his body in that dream was a memory of a miracle—one he never asked for.
And then—
Like a string pulled tight and suddenly cut, the dream snapped.
The suffocating haze shattered.
Lin Ye's eyes fluttered open, vision blurry, limbs cold and unresponsive. He lay still, every breath scraping against his ribs like a blade. The taste of blood still lingered at the back of his throat.
He was awake.
But not whole.
Not yet.
A gust of cold wind swept across the blood-stained plains.
Lin Ye's eyelids twitched.
His breath caught in his throat as his body jolted ever so slightly—eyes fluttering open like a dying candle sputtering to life. The sky above was overcast, the crimson glow long gone, replaced by ashen clouds and an eerie silence.
"Huh..."
His voice cracked like brittle leaves.
He blinked slowly, disoriented. The warmth of the dream still clung to him—those years in the sect, the bitter cold, the humiliation. The ache in his chest wasn't just from his wounds—it was from memory.
"…just a dream?" he muttered, as if trying to convince himself.
But it had felt so real.
He reached for his chest and winced. Pain surged through his body. His muscles were heavy, his veins sluggish, as if some great force had stirred within him then fled, leaving only the aftermath.
He tried to sit up—barely managed to push himself onto one elbow. The scarlet ring still pulsed faintly on his finger.
"What... even was that place? That man… and those words…"
His mind reeled, fragmented images flashing before his eyes—the sea of blood, the voice in the void, and the azure light.
Lin Ye gritted his teeth.
"I need to move... I can't stay here."
But even as he tried to rise, his body betrayed him—limbs trembling, breath ragged.
Still, he refused to give in.
The blood moon may have set, but his journey had only begun.
A gust whispered through the withered grass.
Lin Ye's body stiffened.
Footsteps—slow, deliberate—crunched against the blood-soaked earth. Not human.
He turned his head, vision still blurry, but instincts screaming in warning.
A silhouette emerged from the mist—a creature cloaked in white fur, eyes gleaming like polished amber. Its breath curled in the air like smoke, each step radiating an oppressive heat. Two horns spiraled from its head, and sharp fangs glistened beneath snarling lips.
"A Fourth-level spiritual beast…"
Lin Ye's pupils shrank.
"I knew this place bordered the Sacred Forest… but to see one this close to the battlefield—must've caught the scent of blood."
He tried to rise, but pain gripped his limbs like shackles. He clenched his jaw and began dragging himself backward, every movement agony, every breath fire in his lungs.
"I can't fight it. Not like this."
The beast let out a low growl, ears twitching, nose lifted—sniffing.
He spotted a crevice in the rocks behind him, half-hidden by the remains of a shattered boulder. Gritting his teeth, Lin Ye threw his weight toward it and vanished into the darkness just as the beast turned its gaze toward him.
Inside, damp air filled his lungs. He tumbled against the cold stone and lay there, silent, heart pounding.
After what felt like hours, the beast's growl faded into the wind.
He was safe. For now.
Lin Ye looked around. The cave wasn't deep, but within its shadows, pale-blue leaves shimmered faintly against the dark—spiritual herbs.
His fingers trembled as he reached out.
"…Lucky."
But fate has its own sense of irony.
As he plucked a leaf and leaned against the cave wall, trying to catch his breath, a strange stillness fell over him. The light filtering in from the outside looked… wrong. Too faint. Too dim.
Only then did he noticed the heavy spiritual energy in area.the crimson patterning etched into the stone—the strange silence that devoured even the sound of wind.
Realization struck like thunder.
"This isn't just a normal cave."
He had crossed the border.
He was within the Sacred Forest.
The same forest that had devoured imperial armies and erased the names of once-mighty clans.
Even the strongest elders feared its depths.
And now—wounded, alone—Lin Ye lay within it.
.---
Six months later.
The forest had changed—and so had he.
Lin Ye walked with steady steps, his once-frail frame now lean with tempered muscle. His long white hair flowed behind him like a silk banner, and his eyes—once dull with pain—now held a tempered glint, sharp as a blade unsheathed. Each movement was measured, silent, and deliberate. He no longer moved like a wounded boy, but like a predator who had tasted the edge of death and survived.
The Sacred Forest stretched endlessly before him, bathed in mists of jade and silver. Strange cries echoed from within the canopy—beasts, spirits, and things nameless.
A low wind passed, brushing the undergrowth. Lin Ye paused, fingers resting lightly on the hilt of the blade he had fashioned from bone and spirit ore.
"I didn't die… and now the forest no longer rejects me."
He took a breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs.
"But survival isn't enough anymore."
He looked ahead.
"Now I'll hunt"
The cave hadn't changed—but Lin Ye had.
He stepped inside, brushing past the hanging moss as the chill of the Sacred Forest gave way to damp shadows. In the heart of the cavern, a small pool shimmered—its waters golden, yet unnaturally still. The air around it hummed faintly, pulsing with an eerie presence.
A sinister presence.
He crouched beside the pool, gazing into the liquid surface. His reflection stared back—pale skin, silver-white hair, and eyes that no longer belonged to a child.
"After that day…" he murmured, voice low. "When I heard that voice in the void… something in me changed."
He reached out and touched the water. Ripples spread, warping his reflection.
"My control over Yuan Qi… it's sharper now. Cleaner. I don't know how or why, but I feel like I can grasp things others can't."
His gaze darkened, clouded with solitude.
"But then... why does my internal energy split in two every time I cultivate?"
He raised his hands
From his left, a soft azure light unfurled—gentle and flowing, like moonlight on water.
But from the right—an aura darker than night. A sinister Yuan Qi that twisted and loomed, coiling like smoke from a cursed flame. The temperature around it dropped slightly, and even the walls of the cave seemed to recoil.
"This thing…" he whispered. "I've been cultivating for months, and I still can't control it."
A memory flickered behind his eyes—fangs, claws, blood.
"I tried using it once. Against a wounded spiritual beast… and nearly died for it."
He clenched his jaw.
"I was lucky it was already injured, or I wouldn't be standing here now."
The dark energy writhed—then dissipated. Lin Ye hissed, staggering back slightly as blood trickled down his palm, his fingers trembling.
"I don't know what this power is," he muttered. "But it's not normal. And it's not mine alone."
His eyes narrowed, locked on the golden pool.
"But no matter what… I'll master it. I have to."
"And I'll reach the top"
He let out a slow breath, his body still trembling from the backlash. Blood trickled down his palm, dripping from his fingertips.
One drop fell—
And vanished into the golden pool beneath him.
For a heartbeat, nothing.
Then—
A low hum echoed through the cave walls. The pool began to churn, glowing brighter, its once-calm surface rippling violently. An invisible pressure swept through the air, thick with ancient power.
Even the forest outside seemed to pause.
"…What… was that?"
Lin Ye stared, wide-eyed, as the spiritual energy surged, wild and untamed—drawn to him, responding to his blood.
The pool had awakened.
And somewhere, something had taken notice.