The first thing I remember from that day is the sound of rain. It wasn't a gentle drizzle, but a storm that made the ground tremble and the sky rumble with anger.
The elders said the heavens were celebrating the birth of a new child. They were wrong.
I was born without a mark.
In our world, every child carries a Sky Mark—a glowing pattern on their body given at birth. It could be a beast, a star, a weapon, a flower… each one held power, a destiny. The stronger the mark, the greater the path ahead.
But when the midwife wiped the blood from my skin, she froze. The room went silent. My mother asked what was wrong, but no one answered. They all just stared at me, as if I was something broken.
I was nothing. No mark. No power. No future.
By the time I turned twelve, I had learned what that meant.
Children with marks trained with masters. I carried buckets of water for them.
Children with marks practiced swordplay. I swept the courtyard.
Children with marks were taught secret arts to awaken their gifts. I was told to stay away, because even breathing the wrong air might "waste their talent."
I got used to it. Or maybe I just pretended I did. I told myself it didn't matter. But deep inside, it burned.
That day started like any other. The morning mist clung to the mountains, and the cold wind bit into my skin. I was carrying water again, two buckets on a wooden pole across my shoulders.
Halfway up the path, I heard shouting from the training field. Curiosity pulled me closer.
A group of outer disciples had surrounded someone. They were all laughing.
"Still dreaming, markless rat?" one boy sneered, shoving another to the ground. The boy on the ground looked younger than me, skinny, with dirt on his face. He didn't fight back.
I set the buckets down and stepped forward.
"Leave him alone," I said.
The leader turned, his sky mark—a crimson serpent—glowing faintly on his forearm. He looked me up and down and smirked.
"Oh? Another useless one. What will you do? Cry on us?"
They laughed. I didn't.
"Try me," I said.
The serpent-marked boy's smile faded. He stepped closer, towering over me. "Do you think being a hero will give you a mark? You were born nothing. You will die nothing."
His punch came fast, but I caught his wrist. For a moment, his eyes widened. Then pain exploded in my ribs as his knee slammed into me.
I went down hard. My vision swam. They laughed again and walked away, leaving the younger boy behind.
"You shouldn't have done that," he whispered, helping me sit up.
"Why?"
"Because… you can't win against them."
"Maybe," I said, breathing hard. "But at least I made them shut up for a while."
The boy's lips curled into the smallest smile.
That night, the storm came.
It began with a deep rumble, as if the mountains themselves were groaning. Then the sky split open. Lightning lit the courtyard, striking so close the air burned in my lungs.
I lay awake in my small wooden hut, listening. And then I heard it—A voice.
It wasn't outside. It was inside my head. "Do you remember me?"
I froze. My heart hammered.
"No… of course you don't. They took it all away."
The roof shook as another thunderbolt struck, and for an instant, I saw something impossible—A shadow of myself standing at the foot of my bed. But it wasn't really me. His eyes were sharper, his posture straighter. He wore black chains like ornaments, and on his back burned a mark—glowing blue, shifting like living flame.
I sat up, my voice shaking. "Who… are you?"
He tilted his head. "I am what you were. What you will be again."
"I don't understand—"
The shadow raised a hand, and the chains on his body rattled like they were alive.
"You were not born without a mark, Li Xuanqing. The sky erased it. They feared you."
The words hit me like a blade of ice.
"Why would the sky fear me?"
"Because once, you walked a path that even they could not control."
Lightning struck again. The shadow leaned closer.
"I am the memory they couldn't destroy. And now… it's time to wake up."
Pain tore through my back.
I screamed and fell to the floor. The air around me felt heavy, thick, as if pressing me down. My skin burned, my blood roared in my ears. I felt something burning into me—a shape, a pattern.
The storm outside grew wilder .I heard footsteps rushing toward my hut, voices shouting.
The door burst open just as the pain reached its peak. And then, everything exploded in blue light.
When I opened my eyes, the storm was gone.
I was lying on the floor, my breath slow and steady. My clothes were torn, and the wooden walls were scorched. The elders stood in the doorway, their faces pale.
One of them stepped forward, pointing at my back.
"Impossible…"
I turned my head slightly and caught sight of the shadow on the wall. A mark glowed on my back, bright and alive—shaped like a broken circle with three blades pointing outward.
It pulsed once, and I heard the voice again.
"The sky forgot you, Li Xuanqing. Now, it will remember."
That night, I didn't sleep. Not because I was afraid. But because for the first time in my life… I felt alive.