The cavern lay still.
Not ordinary stillness, but the quiet of eternity itself. Chen Yu knelt before the altar, palms pressed lightly against the ancient grooves. He could feel… something stirring in his blood, a warmth, a pulse, but he did not know its nature. His mind was alert, yet empty of any explanation.
I feel… different. Stronger? But why?
The altar pulsed beneath his hands. Lines and spirals shifted almost imperceptibly, like a heartbeat made stone. Faint whispers brushed at the edges of his consciousness. Some thoughts were clear—a vision of ancestors kneeling at a golden altar, flashes of fire and light. Others were locked, inaccessible, teasing him with knowledge he could not yet reach.
He had no concept of cultivation, no knowledge of levels or techniques. All he knew was the resonance in his chest and the hum in his blood.
Then the cavern trembled.
It started subtly, like the exhalation of a giant breathing beneath the mountain. Dust swirled. Stones rattled. The air thickened, shimmering with colour—crimson and gold twisting together, flowing like liquid fire.
Chen Yu staggered, breath quickening. The resonance in his blood intensified, spreading through every fibre of his body. The altar seemed to awaken fully, its grooves shining faintly, coiling around him in patterns that made no sense but felt profoundly right.
A warm pressure rose from the floor, spreading upward like a river of energy. Chen Yu exhaled sharply, gripping the stone, trying to anchor himself.
And then reality changed.
Light fractured around him. The cavern walls rippled like water. His vision blurred. The floor beneath him vanished—or became infinite. A roaring wind of unseen force lifted him, twisting him in every direction. Chen Yu felt neither fear nor flight—only the pulse of the altar in his blood, guiding him, holding him steady in the chaos.
The world stretched, twisted, and then… released.
Chen Yu blinked.
The sky was no longer the Qinling Mountains. The air smelled different—crisp, alien, with a faint metallic tang. Above him, three suns—or perhaps moons—hung in strange arcs across a violet sky. Mountains rose like jagged teeth in the distance, rivers glowed faintly, and the wind hummed with energy.
He was no longer on Earth.
Chen Yu fell to his knees, heart hammering—not from fear, but from awe. The altar's trial had ended, yet he understood nothing of what had happened. His blood resonated with something ancient, something powerful, yet its secrets remained inaccessible.
Somewhere in his mind, fragments of knowledge flickered. Hints of techniques, paths, and ancient authority, yet most remained locked—the altar had only awakened him partially. He did not know why, he did not know how, and he did not know what this place was.
All he knew was that he had changed. He had survived the trial. His bloodline stirred. And the world—this new world—awaited him.
Far above, in the upper realms of existence, a cultivator of unimaginable power paused. A subtle disturbance brushed across his senses—the awakening of a mortal bloodline that should have remained hidden. His eyes narrowed.
Interesting… he whispered. A ripple in the tide of the mortal world. Something great is stirring.
Chen Yu stood slowly, eyes scanning the alien horizon. His journey had begun, but this was only the first step.
He did not know cultivation. He did not know the rules of this world. He only knew one thing: he had been chosen, and the path before him was unlike any he had ever imagined.
The first step of the Human Origin Path had begun.