The morning sun rose lazily above Sunset City, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and crimson. From high above, the city looked like a great ring, its layers spreading outward from the luminous Core District. In the center, shining manors and elegant towers glittered with reflected light, a vision of wealth and refinement. Even so early, spiritual lanterns glimmered faintly, and one could almost taste the fragrance of rare teas carried on the morning breeze.
But our story does not begin in those gleaming halls of power.
It begins far from the Core, in the outer ring of Sunset City the industrial district where sweat, soil, and spirit stones fueled the prosperity of all within. Here, the air carried the earthy tang of tilled fields and the ringing echoes of pickaxes from distant mines. Spirit farmers cultivated fields of luminous grains, spirit beasts pulled heavy carts laden with ores, and the foundations of the great city were upheld by countless unseen hands.
And on this particular morning, in one of these humble farms, the Feng Family sat together for breakfast.
Their home was simple—wooden beams polished by years of care, the faint aroma of herbs from last night's stew still lingering in the air. Outside, rows of spirit wheat swayed gently in the morning wind, golden stalks humming faintly with spiritual energy. It wasn't a great estate, but for the Feng family of four, it was more than enough.
Inside, laughter and bickering already filled the air.
"Mom, I swear to the heavens, if Haoran puts his hands in my porridge again, I'll put him into the ground!"
The voice came from a tall young man at the low wooden table. His long black hair, tied loosely, framed sharp features, and his skin carried the tan of long hours under the sun. Though still lean, his shoulders hinted at the strength of one used to heavy labor. This was Feng Tianrui, the elder son of the family—and our story's protagonist.
Across from him, his younger brother smirked mischievously, spoon halfway to Tianrui's bowl.
"Alright, alright, I'll stop," the boy said, almond eyes gleaming with mischief. His black hair was short and scattered, as untamed as his fiery temper. Only fourteen years old, yet already a bundle of hot-blooded energy, Feng Haoran lived to irritate his elder brother. He leaned back with a grin and added, "But if he keeps calling me shorty, I'll spread a rumor in town that his junk doesn't work. Agreed?"
Tianrui nearly choked on his porridge.
Before he could reply, their mother's gentle yet firm voice cut through the argument.
"Haoran, stop disturbing your brother." Her tone was calm, but it carried the kind of authority only a mother possessed. Feng Yuhua, once renowned for her beauty, still retained a dignified grace. Her long black hair, now streaked with strands of white, was tied neatly into a braid. Her almond-shaped eyes radiated warmth, soothing the room even when her sons were at each other's throats. "Your brother needs his strength to help your father with the heavy lifting."
Haoran pouted, but before he could retort, a booming laugh shook the wooden beams of the house.
"Hahahahaha! That's my boy! Haoran, you're funny enough to shame the jesters in the Core District!"
The laughter belonged to Feng Zhenhai, the head of the family. He was lean, with streaks of black and white in his hair, his calloused hands still strong from years of farm work. Yet beneath his humble appearance lay a cultivator of the 5th Stage of Qi Condensation ,a man not to be underestimated, though he rarely flaunted his strength. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, grinning proudly at his youngest son.
Tianrui groaned. "Why are you encouraging him, Father?" He shot Haoran a glare, only to see his brother's smug grin widen.
The room warmed with laughter and bickering, the air alive with the vibrant energy of a family that though humble was bound by unshakable ties.
And so, on this beautiful morning, the story of Feng Tianrui a man who will be known by many names truly began.
It didn't take long before the bowls were emptied and the room filled with the comfortable silence of a family well-fed. The last of the porridge steam drifted lazily toward the rafters, carrying with it the faint scent of roasted herbs.
With a sigh of satisfaction, Zhenhai leaned back and rubbed his stomach.
"Ahhh, Yuhua… I don't know what I did to deserve you." His eyes softened as he looked at his wife, genuine gratitude etched into the lines of his weathered face.
Yuhua's cheeks colored faintly, her lips curving into a shy smile. "Oh, honey…"
Before the tender moment could blossom, Haoran groaned dramatically and clutched his stomach.
"Ugh, get a room already! I just ate—do you want me to throw up?"
The table burst into laughter, but Zhenhai only shook his head, grinning as he pushed himself up.
"Hahaha, you don't understand yet, boy. Just wait. One day you'll find your match and fall head over heels, and then you'll remember these words."
As he stood, his large hand reached down and ruffled Haoran's hair, scattering the already messy strands in every direction.
"Father! Stop!" Haoran swatted at him, but his glare only made his family laugh harder.
Beside Zhenhai, Tianrui rose as well, his expression more composed than his brother's but his lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. The two men stepped outside together, leaving the warmth of the home behind.
The crisp morning air greeted them, carrying the scent of damp earth and the distant lowing of spirit oxen. The fields stretched out before them—rows of golden stalks swaying gently, each grain humming faintly with qi. Birds circled overhead, their cries echoing in the wide sky.
But not all was well.
Tianrui followed his father's gaze toward a patch of land near the farm's edge. Unlike the rest of the fields, which glowed faintly with spiritual vitality, this section was dull and lifeless. The soil looked dry, cracked, as if it had been drained of something essential. No crops grew there—only stubborn weeds and brittle stalks that withered before maturing.
Father and son stood in silence for a moment, the cheerful noise of the household now far behind them.
"This land again…" Zhenhai muttered, his brows furrowing. He crouched low, running a calloused hand through the pale dirt. "No matter how much fertilizer and spirit rain technique I use, it refuses to recover."
Tianrui's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. The qi in the air here felt… strange. Thin, almost reluctant, as if something unseen was drinking it away, he suddenly felt light headed even with a small headache.
"Father, do you think it's cursed?" Tianrui asked quietly.
Zhenhai shook his head, though his expression remained grim. "Not cursed. But something is wrong. The earth itself feels wounded." He clenched a handful of soil, watching it crumble through his fingers.
For the first time that morning, the warmth of family laughter faded, replaced by a weight that pressed down on the quiet field.
The dust track that ran past the Feng farm carried more than the day's chores that morning. A short, stocky man swaggered up the path, his belly tight against a garish yellow-and-green robe. Cheap rings rattled on his fingers; they glittered, but they did nothing to hide his sleazy swagger. Two men in plain grey uniforms flanked him like shadows.
"Haha—Old Man Feng! Nice to see you. Have you come to a decision about the land?" the man called. His voice was oily with false cheer.
Zhenhai's face darkened. He planted his feet and squared his shoulders. "I told you before, Zhidong. My family will never sell our land to the Huang family."
Huang Zhidong — a servant of the Huang household, though his airs suggested he had more sway than the title implied — smiled without warmth. He pointed toward the blighted patch at the edge of the field. "Better rethink that," he said, voice slow and poisonous. "Or do you want what's plaguing that part of your farm to spread across the whole thing?" His grin widened as if the idea pleased him.
Tianrui's blood went cold at the implication. He had been standing a few paces behind his father; instinct made him step forward. Qi at the first level of Qi Condensation hummed into being in his palms before he fully registered the movement. "That bastard—" he started.
He never finished. In the span of a breath, his father, Zhenhai, was gone.
The elder Feng moved like lightning. One heartbeat he was standing beside Tianrui; the next he was a blur of muscle and qi, closing the distance in a flash. His fist streaked toward Zhidong's neck with killing intent sharp enough to chill the air.
Tianrui's heart pounded. His eyes strained to follow, but his father's movements were beyond him.
Boom!
The impact cracked through the fields like a thunderclap, scattering soil and snapping brittle stalks. Even Zhenhai staggered back, forced off balance by the force of the collision. His narrowed eyes fixed on the man who had intercepted the strike.
The guard stood unmoving, palm raised, a faint shimmer of qi rippling along his arm. Not a hired thug. Not some petty servant. 'A cultivator—Peak Qi Condensation, at least.'
Zhenhai's jaw tightened. "Zhidong… don't test me." His words were quiet but cold, each syllable carrying lethal intent. "If I catch you setting foot on my land again, even the Huang family won't shield you."
Before Zhidong could sneer back, a sound broke the moment—small, sharp, and wrong.
Tianrui swayed. The fight blurred before his eyes, as if the world itself tilted. A spike of pressure lanced through his skull; his knees gave out.
"F…fuck…" he whispered, breath caught in his throat.
Thump.
He collapsed face-first into the dirt. His vision tunneled, edges bleeding into black. No breath filled his lungs. Then—silence.
"Tian!!!" Zhenhai's roar split the air. All composure shattered as he dropped to his knees, pressing trembling fingers to his son's throat. A pulse—weak, erratic. Relief sparked for a heartbeat, drowned instantly by fear.
His gaze snapped to Zhidong. "What did you do!?" His voice thundered with fury.
Zhidong spread his hands, mocking. "Do what? I only came to talk." But his smirk faltered, if only for a moment. Behind his eyes flickered confusion 'I didn't touch the boy… so what in the hell just happened?'
Zhenhai didn't wait for answers. Gathering Tianrui into his arms, he surged forward, qi igniting under his feet. The earth blurred beneath him as he bolted toward the city, toward the nearest physician.
Behind him, Zhidong's smirk slithered back across his face. "Tik-tok, Feng. Tik-tok." He turned, his guards falling into step beside him as they vanished down the road.
Only the silent field bore witness to what stirred within the unconscious boy.
Beneath his still chest, something shifted—like a heartbeat echoing from the bones of the earth itself. Warmth pulsed outward, then coiled inwards.
And deep in Feng Tianrui's soul, an ability no mortal should have stirred awake.