The sun had barely dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the Sky Reaching Sect. The outer sect courtyard buzzed with the last echoes of disciples returning to their quarters after a day of cultivation and menial tasks. But one figure moved in the opposite direction, slipping away from the lantern-lit paths into the darkness beyond the training grounds.
Lin Xuan's robes were torn, blood crusted at the edge of his sleeves, and a purplish bruise darkened the left side of his jaw. The humiliation from the morning sparring session still stung—not the pain, but the cold laughter of the crowd.
"Trash." "Why doesn't he just leave?" "Even the elders are tired of him."
Each word had etched itself into his heart like a blade. But Lin Xuan said nothing. He hadn't defended himself, hadn't fought back. He'd just taken it—because he had no choice.
That was about to change.
Clutched in his palm was a half-burned fragment of parchment, unearthed from the back of a tattered manual in the sect library. It hinted at a hidden chamber—deep beneath the Eastern Meditation Grounds—sealed away decades ago after a cave-in. A place untouched by the sect's gaze for generations.
If the legends were true, something ancient was buried there. And Lin Xuan, a so-called cripple with sealed meridians, had nothing to lose by chasing it.
He slipped through a narrow pass between boulders and dropped into a crevice blanketed by vines and moss. A damp wind howled up from below. The air was thick with the scent of mold and stone—forgotten, untouched by time.
As he descended with the aid of an old rope and sheer will, the silence grew heavier.
The cave's entrance was narrow, barely large enough for a grown man to pass through. Beyond it lay pitch-black tunnels branching like veins in the mountain's flesh. Lin Xuan struck a firestone, igniting the spirit lamp he had smuggled out from the tool depot.
Flickering light danced along the walls, revealing carvings—sigils and symbols written in a script older than the sect itself. Some glowed faintly, responding to the lamp's heat. It wasn't just a cave—it was once a shrine.
Bones lay scattered across the ground, brittle and ancient. Not of beasts—but men. Their robes, long disintegrated, bore faint patterns reminiscent of outer sect garb.
"Disciples… they came here too. But none returned."
Despite the chill crawling up his spine, Lin Xuan pushed forward. Every breath echoed, as if the cave was whispering back.
Eventually, the narrow corridor opened into a vast chamber—circular and domed, its ceiling lost in darkness. At its center stood a stone pedestal, wrapped in rusted chains. Upon it, bound in blackened silver, lay a single scroll.
Even at a distance, Lin Xuan could feel the power it radiated. Not violent or oppressive—but cold, ancient, and… waiting.
He stepped forward.
As his hand hovered over the scroll, the chains hissed softly and began to unravel, evaporating into fine mist. The moment his fingers brushed the parchment, the world fell away.
A pulse erupted from the scroll, slamming into his chest. His breath caught as his consciousness was dragged inward.
Soul Domain
He stood in a space beyond time, suspended in a void of shimmering starlight. A sea of shifting light stretched infinitely in all directions, like reflections on obsidian glass.
A voice echoed—not loud, but resonant. Like thunder whispering in his soul.
"Those born broken… shall devour the sky itself."
A silhouette emerged from the starlit void. A woman cloaked in robes of ash-gray, her face hidden beneath a veil of smoke. In her hands was a scroll identical to the one Lin Xuan had touched.
"You are the first in three hundred years to answer the scroll's call," she said. "You walk the path of Soulroot Reversal."
"What… is that?" Lin Xuan asked, his voice trembling.
"It is the rejection of the heavens," she replied. "The severance of fate. Where others inherit strength, you must cultivate defiance. The world calls you waste because your root is sealed. But what is sealed… can be shattered."
She extended the scroll toward him.
"Accept it, and awaken what sleeps beneath your chains. But understand—this path leads to war. Not just with enemies… but with yourself."
Lin Xuan stared at the scroll. His entire life had been one of silence and shame. If this was the path to power—no matter how twisted or painful—he would walk it.
He reached forward and grasped the scroll.
The stars flared.
Reality
His eyes snapped open as energy poured into his dantian. Not smooth and flowing like spiritual Qi—but jagged, raw, and untamed. His meridians screamed. A thousand needles pierced his body as if every channel within him was being forcefully carved anew.
But he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
The scroll now hovered mid-air, glowing with arcane runes that slowly seeped into his skin.
Words flooded his mind, searing themselves into memory:
Soulroot Reversal – Foundation Layer
Step One: Find the Meridian Echo. Break the False Vein.
Step Two: Sow the Soulroot. Condense the Shadow Dantian.
Step Three: Unseal the Ancestral Pulse.
He gritted his teeth and forced the first strand of energy into his palm.
Pain erupted.
Veins bulged. His vision blurred. But he felt it—a node, deep within his hand, glowing faintly.
His first meridian echo.
A laugh—half mad, half victorious—escaped his throat.
"I'm not broken. I've been bound. And now… I'm breaking free."
The energy surged again. More violently this time. His body convulsed, blood spilling from his lips. He collapsed beside the pedestal, gasping.
The cave around him fell silent once more, the scroll returning to stillness.
Hours Later
He awoke to darkness, the lamp long burned out. His entire body ached, but his core buzzed faintly with energy.
He had succeeded.
The Soulroot Reversal Manual was real.
He could feel the change within him—not just in body, but in spirit. Something had stirred. Something powerful.
But he had lingered too long.
Voices echoed faintly from the cave entrance—sect guards on patrol.
"…found rope near the ridge… someone's down here."
Panic surged in Lin Xuan's chest. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed the scroll, and snuffed out his Qi signature. Using the hidden paths marked in the ancient etchings, he slipped through a narrow fissure that led to the other side of the mountain.
By the time the guards arrived, the chamber was empty.
Later That Night
Back in his quarters, Lin Xuan sat on the floor, drenched in sweat and covered in cuts. But his heart beat with something he hadn't felt in years:
Hope.
He unrolled the scroll again. More symbols appeared, ones that hadn't been there before. It was evolving—as if recognizing his progress.
"Those born broken shall devour the sky…"
He repeated the words, again and again, like a mantra.
"I won't live by their standards. I'll forge my own."
Outside, the Sky Reaching Sect slept peacefully, unaware that a shadow had stirred beneath its foundation.
And deep within Lin Xuan, the first threads of rebellion… began to weave.