The Sea of Heavenly Thunder roared, lightning raging across the skies.
Ye Xuan stood alone on the clouds, his robe torn to shreds, long hair burned away, golden radiance around him gradually collapsing.
The final strike of heavenly punishment descended, piercing through his chest, shattering his bones, tearing his very soul apart.
He opened his mouth, wanting to laugh, but only a hoarse sound escaped:
"Haha—once this tribulation is over, I shall attain—"
Before he could finish, the heavens collapsed, and countless bolts of lightning crashed down together.
Darkness fell.
---
When he woke again, his body was ice-cold, his nose filled with the stench of mud.
All around was an unfamiliar forest, dense branches and leaves, insects humming in the gloom.
Ye Xuan lifted his hand—then froze.
A short arm, skin glowing faintly green, with blunt, clumsy fingers like the claws of some deformed beast.
"…" He was speechless.
With difficulty, he turned over and sat up. His joints creaked like dry twigs.
He stumbled toward a puddle and looked down.
The reflection staring back was not the face of the Immortal Lord he once knew, but an ugly, wrinkled visage: nostrils flared outward, crooked fangs, sunken eye sockets.
Ye Xuan stared at that unfamiliar face for a long time, only one thought rising in his mind:
"What… exactly is this creature?"
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His chest immediately convulsed with a cough, blood and qi weak like a candle flickering in the wind.
"This… is no longer the cultivation world."
For the first time, such a thought appeared in his heart.
---
Suddenly, from afar came the sound of a baby's wailing.
"Waa—waa—"
Ye Xuan's heart jolted. His body shuddered uncontrollably, heart pounding wildly, limbs moving on instinct as he bolted forward in terror.
He stumbled, rolled across the muddy ground, and slammed into a tree root, utterly disheveled.
Silence hung for a few breaths. He widened his eyes in disbelief.
"…I was actually frightened away… by a baby's cry?"
If not for personally experiencing it, he would never have believed he could fall so low.
From the bushes came harsh, mocking laughter. A few green-skinned creatures, resembling him, poked their heads out, chattering noisily:
"Haha, look, he ran again!"
"As expected of the trash—not even worthy of F-!"
"This kind of garbage goblin won't survive three days!"
Ye Xuan narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Now he understood.
This hideous body belonged to the lowest of this world's creatures—"Goblins."
And not just any goblin, but the weakest among the weak, one so feeble it wasn't even counted as F-rank—an "F-."
The great Immortal Lord, reborn as such a thing?
His chest rose and fell, but he did not rage.
Instead, he slowly pressed his hand against his chest, feeling this body's fragility.
His spine hunched, bones brittle, blood sluggish, heartbeat erratic like a broken drum.
The slightest disturbance could overpower his will, driving him to flee.
He let out a bitter laugh—yet it was cold as ice.
"Can't even control my breathing… with this body, what cultivation is there to speak of?"
—But he did not give up.
"Very well. Since I've been given this shell, then from F I shall climb the immortal path once more."
---
That night, the goblin tribe gathered under the elders to learn assassination and hunting:
How to lurk in the shadows, how to bite through a prey's throat, how to plunder the weak.
It was their only path to rise.
Ye Xuan did not join them.
Instead, he found the quietest corner, forcing himself to sit cross-legged.
But this frail body betrayed him. His legs cramped the moment he bent them, his back collapsing like a broken bowstring.
Helpless, he lay flat, regulating his breath.
—Draw into the abdomen, exhale the turbid air.
—Seek no spiritual qi, only a steady heartbeat.
After hundreds of breaths, his frantic pulse of one hundred and twenty beats dropped to around ninety.
Sweat poured down his temples, but his gaze grew sharper.
Insignificant to others, but to him, this was the first step of rebuilding:
To make the body obey the will, not mere instinct.
He looked up at the night sky.
Once, he devoured sun and moon essence, drew upon the power of myriad beings.
Now, his only battle was against cramping legs and a faltering heart.
Is it ironic? Laughable?
Ye Xuan closed his eyes, his mind calm as still water.
"No matter. A tower of ten thousand feet begins with a single brick. To walk the immortal path again, I'll start from this broken shell."
---
At dawn, the goblin elder drove the tribe to the forest to carry stones, to build courage.
Others hopped and hauled stones with ease, while Ye Xuan staggered, arms trembling, steps faltering as if he'd collapse at any moment.
The ridicule was endless, yet he clenched his teeth, carrying stone after stone.
Sweat drenched him, but within, he rejoiced:
—This body was already a bit steadier than last night.
When night fell again, he tried sitting cross-legged once more.
His legs still ached, but no longer cramped immediately.
His back quivered, yet with grit it slowly straightened.
His breathing became even, his chest more open, his heartbeat calmer than the night before.
Ye Xuan whispered:
"First, temper the body. When the flesh is no longer a burden, then talk of blood, then of cultivation."
He lifted his gaze toward the distant mountains.
There lay herbs, spirit springs, and the opportunities of the future.
One day, he would climb there, step by step.
The cry of an infant?
Next time, it would never shake him again.
The wind blew, his eyes growing sharper.
"Starting from F."
"And then—upward, without end."