Morning mist veiled the rooftops of Duskwither Town, casting the worn stone walls of the Fang Clan compound in soft gray light. The town wasn't powerful, and neither was the clan that guarded its northern ridge. But today, even common names carried weight.
It was the Awakening Ceremony.
Every youth aged fifteen or younger stood in formation across the courtyard, waiting to touch the Soul Crystal—and for the Heavens to decide their fate.
For most, today marked the start of a life worth something.
For one of them, it marked something else entirely.
At the back of the line stood a quiet figure, arms folded. His expression was calm, unreadable. His plain black robe fluttered slightly in the morning breeze.
Fang Xun.
The son of two clan elders. Younger brother of the clan's brightest rising star.
And yet, no one approached him. No one greeted him.
His gaze was too still. His presence too sharp.
They'd seen him break bones without blinking during training. They'd heard whispers about the wild dog he crushed with a single stone—without mercy or pause.
---
On the elevated stone platform, the Soul Priest Fang Duyi raised the crystal orb with reverence. His voice echoed across the crowd.
"Today, the children of the Fang Clan will awaken their martial souls. From this moment forward, only those who awaken may walk the path of cultivation."
Fang Xun narrowed his eyes slightly.
So today is the beginning.
The Body Tempering Realm required a martial soul to activate one's internal strength. Without it, one remained a mortal—limited to flesh and instinct.
---
Names were called.
"Fang Yao."
A tall boy stepped up. He pressed his palm to the crystal.
A flash of gold light swirled within.
"Martial Soul: Twin-Fanged Viper. Mortal Tier, Rank 2."
Applause followed.
"Fang Mei."
Pale green light danced through the crystal.
"Cloud Serpent. Mortal Tier, Rank 1."
Murmurs of approval. Nothing shocking.
One by one, the line shortened.
Then—
> "Fang Xun."
The courtyard stilled—not in fear, but curiosity.
Even in a snake-blooded clan, he stood apart.
Fang Xun stepped forward without hesitation. As he placed his hand on the soul crystal, something shifted. The air tightened.
Then—a low crimson light flickered inside the crystal.
Not dazzling. Not loud. Just... heavy.
The crystal pulsed once, then settled into a deep blood-red glow with a faint swirl of shadow inside. A spectral serpent rose faintly behind him—thicker than normal, darker, coiled tighter.
No one gasped.
No one panicked.
The Soul Priest nodded slowly.
"Martial Soul: Bloodfiend Serpent. Mortal Tier, Rank 1."
Faint murmurs rippled through the courtyard.
"Another snake type…"
"Never heard of that one... Bloodfiend?"
"Still Mortal Tier, nothing crazy…"
But from the platform, two elders watched more closely—Fang Xun's parents.
His father said nothing.
His mother smiled just faintly.
His older brother, Fang Mo, arms crossed at the back, gave a single approving nod.
---
Fang Xun returned to his place in the formation, calm as before.
No celebration. No disappointment.
But inside his mind, a voice had already echoed:
> Martial Soul awakened: Bloodfiend Serpent.
Tier: Mortal, Rank 1
Trait unlocked — Blooddrinking: Absorb blood through contact to regenerate.
His eyes narrowed just slightly.
He could feel it—a new presence coiling along his spine, cold and alive, like a second consciousness had joined him.
A hunger.
---
That night, while others feasted beneath lanterns and spilled wine, Fang Xun wandered the quiet alleys of Duskwither Town alone.
He had awakened.
He could now begin to cultivate.
Not just train his muscles—but guide his inner strength. Begin refining his blood and bones. Begin stepping toward Body Tempering Stage 1.
It wouldn't be easy.
Not in a clan where the strongest elder was only Qi Refinement Stage 3.
Not in a town watched by rival clans—like the Crimson Stinger, who had long awaited a chance to strike at the Fang bloodline.
But Fang Xun had something else now.
His soul was awake.
And his enemies bled.
He would rise—slowly, quietly, like a shadow.
And one day, when the serpent inside him stirred fully awake...
The world would bleed in return.
The celebration echoed far behind him, muted by distance and silence. Music, laughter, and clinking wine cups drifted faintly from the main hall, but Fang Xun had no taste for noise.
He walked alone beneath the moonlight, along the stone path behind the clan's back courtyard, toward the dark slope where younger disciples trained.
The serpent within him was awake now.
He could feel it—not like a voice, but a presence. Something cold and ancient, coiled within his spine, waiting. Breathing.
It hadn't spoken to him again since that moment before.
But it listened.
---
A shadow moved up ahead. Fang Xun didn't stop.
His brother leaned against a wooden beam beside the spear racks, arms folded.
"Didn't stay to drink?" Fang Mo asked.
Xun came to a halt, but didn't answer immediately. He watched the older boy's expression—measured, quiet.
"I don't care for crowds."
Mo gave a half-smile. "You never did."
He pushed off the post and walked slowly past Xun, turning to face him fully.
"That martial soul of yours," he said, "it's not ordinary."
"It's not rare either," Fang Xun replied.
"True," Mo said, nodding. "But rare doesn't matter. Potential does."
He eyed him a little more seriously now. "You've taken your first step. From now on, the clan won't hold your hand. No more sparring circles or mock drills. You start real cultivation tomorrow."
"I know," Xun said.
"You're still at zero," Mo added. "You haven't even entered Body Tempering Stage 1. The elders will expect results within ten days."
Xun didn't flinch. "They'll see them."
Mo's eyes narrowed slightly—not with doubt, but with something else. Curiosity.
"You're quiet. But I know how you think. You'll do anything to win."
Fang Xun didn't deny it.
His brother smirked. "Good. Just don't die early trying to prove a point."
---
That night, in a dim side chamber near the rear of the family hall, Fang Xun sat alone—cross-legged on a straw mat, spine straight, breathing calm.
The room was silent, the candlelight flickering against the rough walls.
For the first time, he focused inward.
Now that his martial soul had awakened, he could begin drawing Qi from the atmosphere. It wouldn't be easy at first—the Body Tempering Realm was more grueling than it sounded. It wasn't just about building muscle—it was about guiding Qi into bones, sinew, blood, and marrow.
Most youths relied on family guidance. Instructed steps. External aids.
Fang Xun had none of that tonight.
He placed his palm flat on the floor, letting his thoughts still.
The air felt different now.
There was something flowing through it—something alive. Faint and cold, but pulsing gently.
Qi.
He inhaled slowly. Deeper. Then again.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—he felt it. A thread of warmth snaking through his chest. Slow, reluctant.
The serpent stirred faintly.
His body tensed—but didn't reject it.
The thread of Qi curled into his limbs.
His blood tingled.
> You've entered the Body Tempering Realm. Stage: 1
No burst of light. No rush of energy. Just... the beginning.
Fang Xun opened his eyes.
The candle had nearly gone out.
---
Outside, rain had begun to fall.
Fang Xun stood at the window, watching the droplets strike the training stones.
His palm ached from an old bruise.
He lifted it to the light.
Where skin had split days ago, a faint red glow remained, barely visible—and already closing.
He touched it with his other hand.
The wound absorbed the warmth like a sponge.
Gone.
He flexed his fingers.
The trait was quiet, but constant.
If he bled others... he healed.
Not a blessing.
A weapon.
And he had no intention of showing anyone that part of himself.
Not yet.