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On the peak of Desolate Mountain, beneath the pale moonlight and the mist that hung like a shroud of death, Huang Tian sat cross-legged within a hidden cave, his body still but in his dantian the energy core pulsed slowly like an ancient heart that had just learned to beat, and though his biological form still appeared that of a fifteen-year-old boy, the soul within had lived for 170 years, counting every second as a brick in the grand project of immortality he had designed since his last breath on Earth.
He opened his eyes, and within the depths of his pupils—black as void yet glimmering faintly with gold—the reflection of his past shone: the hospital stinking of medicine and despair, his body paralyzed from birth, his mother weeping every night while holding his numb hand, the doctor shaking his head and saying, "There is no hope," and the final moment as the heart monitor flatlined, but behind his eyelids the universe cracked and a voice resounded, "You will return. But this time… you shall create."
With deep, controlled breathing, he drew spiritual energy from the air, the earth, even from the starlight falling from millions of li away, filtering it through the delta brainwave frequencies he had designed himself, ensuring only the purest essence flowed into his qi channels, for he knew that power built upon impurity would collapse the moment fate tested it.
He had reached the **Qi Condensation Layer 5**, and now, at the age of 170, he was ready to take a step further—not merely strengthening skin and muscle, but **purifying bone**, the deepest part of the human body, where marrow carried the imprint of evolution, where blood was born, where the soul first touched flesh.
In the leather pouch at his waist lay pale-silver metallic powder—**Heavenly Silver**, the only material capable of purifying bone, forged from celestial lightning striking the mountain for 10,000 years, found only in the ruins of forgotten temples.
He blended the silver with the essence of seven rare herbs: *Moonroot*, *Everfire Blossom*, *Stormleaf*, *Sap of the Heavenly Heart Tree*, *Sky Crystal Dust*, *Water of the Ancient Well*, and *Ash of the Extinguished Soul Flame*, igniting the mixture with spiritual energy from his fingertip until it melted into a viscous silver-blue liquid that exuded the fragrance of burning metal and decaying flowers.
He swallowed it, and in the first second, scorching heat exploded in his throat like molten metal annihilating every cell, and by the third second, the sensation spread throughout his body, invading the marrow, shattering the old bone cells and forcing them to die so new ones could be born.
The pain was not like a wound or stab, but as though his entire skeleton was being welded with heavenly fire, every bone broken, melted, reforged with indestructible metal, and though blood poured from his nose, ears, and mouth, he did not move, did not cry, did not scream, for he knew every moment of agony was an investment into the eternity he was building.
For 24 hours, he sat unmoving, his body drenched in dried blood, his muscles trembling violently, yet the energy core in his dantian remained stable, pumping spiritual force to accelerate regeneration, and at the 25th hour the process ended—his bones no longer calcium, but **condensed celestial metal**, able to withstand a thousandfold pressure, immune to the deadliest poisons, and capable of storing spiritual energy like an eternal battery.
He carved upon the stone with his blood: *"Bone purified. Structural strength increased 800%. Resistant to Nascent Soul attacks. Ready for Layer 6. Target age: 180 years."*
But that night, serenity was broken—winds roared from the east, carrying the scent of incense and blood, and in the distance he felt waves of energy not born of nature but of men: **the qigong sect had found his trail**.
They were from the **Moonlit Sect**, an ancient order claiming to guard the balance of the world but in truth nothing more than zealots who slaughtered any deemed "anomaly," drawn here because one of their disciples, while cultivating in the forbidden forest, sensed an energy pulse from Desolate Mountain that matched no known qigong system.
Seven of them came: one white-robed master, six grey-robed disciples, all wielding spiritual swords pulsating with living energy, moving with such force that trees shattered in their wake, a storm descending to judge.
Huang Tian did not panic.
He merely closed his eyes, activating the **Spiritual Concealment Formation** to mask his energy, then stepped out of the cave—not to fight, but to **observe**.
Hidden behind the cliff, he watched them scour the cave, breaking stone wards, smashing crystals, and one disciple muttered, "No one's here. Perhaps just a wild forest spirit."
But the master narrowed his gaze, whispering, "No… something lingers. Something older than qigong. Stranger than gods."
Huang Tian noted: *"Moonlit Sect recognizes me as threat. They will return. Must prepare traps."*
He returned to the cave, drew forth 81 spiritual stones he had gathered for months, and began constructing the **Eightfold Soul-Deception Formation**, his own design, capable of projecting false energy illusions to lure enemies into predetermined death.
He carved a pit 30 meters deep on the mountainside, lined it with energy-reflecting crystals, then placed at the base a **Spiritual Detonation Pill**—its force equal to a Nascent Soul strike.
He knew, if they returned, he would not kill them directly—doing so would draw greater eyes.
He would let them **destroy themselves**.
Three days later they returned—thirteen this time, led by **Elder Mo**, a high-level qigong practitioner who had lived 290 years, master of the **Perfect Moon Breath Technique**.
They advanced in battle formation, blades drawn, eyes wary, and as they neared the cave, Huang Tian **weakened his concealment formation**—just 0.1%—enough to emit a **false aura** resembling a young cultivator in meditation.
Elder Mo smiled. "This time, we won't fail. Capture him alive. I wish to know the source of his strength."
They charged the cave—only to find Huang Tian absent.
He stood atop the cliff, gazing from afar, releasing a subtle pulse into the illusionary array.
The formation activated.
The pit opened.
The Moonlit Sect was ensnared.
Explosion erupted.
The Spiritual Pill detonated.
The shockwave smote them like a heavenly hammer.
Six disciples perished instantly.
Four lay broken, bleeding.
Elder Mo survived, but his right arm was obliterated, his body flung fifty meters into the rock.
Huang Tian emerged from the mist.
Not with a sword.
Not with a roar.
But with words calm, cold, resolute:
*"You came to punish me for being different?
I came to show you that difference is the beginning of eternity."*
Elder Mo, eyes blazing with hatred, rasped, "You are no human! You are an anomaly that must be erased!"
Huang Tian pressed his foot upon the elder's chest, bones cracking. "You call me anomaly?
I am the first.
And you… are dust, ignorant of its time to scatter."
He did not kill Elder Mo.
Instead, he seized the elder's spiritual blade, shattered its qigong core, then said:
*"Go. Carry this message to your sect:
This world is too small for me.
And you are too weak to stop me."*
Elder Mo crawled away, battered and broken, yet within his heart lingered something far worse than pain: **fear**.
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And so, Huang Tian prepared for **Layer 6**…
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