Pain was the first thing Lin Mo registered, followed immediately by the suffocating stench of medicinal ash and humiliation.
The cold, unforgiving jade-stone floor of the Azure Cloud Sect's Outer Alchemy Pavilion pressed against his bruised cheek. This was a place of prestige, where the air was usually thick with the fragrant scent of refining spiritual herbs. But for a Fire Servant like Lin Mo, it was merely a gilded cage of endless labor.
The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, thick and warm, but it was nothing compared to the sharp, agonizing ache in his shattered chest.
"A piece of trash with crippled meridians actually dares to hoard a Three-Leaf Spirit Grass? It seems the dogs of the Outer Sect have forgotten their place."
A sneering, aristocratic voice echoed from above, slicing through the quiet hum of the pavilion's grand furnaces.
Lin Mo forced his heavy eyelids open. Standing over him, twirling a glowing, emerald-green herb between his pristine fingers, was Young Master Zhao Feng. Zhao wore the immaculate white robes of an Inner Sect candidate, adorned with silver cloud patterns that symbolized his superior status. Behind him, two lackeys—Wang and Li—snickered, looking down at Lin Mo as if he were a dying insect on the side of the road.
"That... is mine," Lin Mo coughed, his voice incredibly hoarse, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips. He tried to push himself up, his fingers scraping desperately against the jade floor. "I worked in the furnace rooms for three years... endured the fire poison... saved every single spirit stone to buy it. I need it to fix my meridians..."
Bang!
Zhao Feng didn't even bother drawing his sword. His heavy, beast-leather boot slammed violently into Lin Mo's ribs. The sickening crack of bone snapping echoed clearly in the vast hall.
Lin Mo let out a muffled groan as his body skidded backward, leaving a dark trail of blood on the pristine floor.
"Yours?" Zhao Feng spat, his handsome face twisting into a mask of pure disdain. He stepped forward and ground his boot into Lin Mo's broken chest, applying a crushing pressure. "In the cultivation world, strength is everything. The strong take what they want, and the weak offer it up with gratitude. A mere Fire Servant—a mortal with dead meridians—trying to cultivate? It's an insult to the Heavenly Dao."
Zhao Feng lifted the glowing Three-Leaf Spirit Grass to the light, admiring its rich spiritual aura. "This herb will help me stabilize my foundation before the Outer Sect Tournament. You should be honored, trash. I am putting your miserable savings to good use."
He turned away, entirely dismissing Lin Mo's existence. "Wang, Li. Throw this garbage into the Slag Valley. The Elders are inspecting the pavilion today, and I don't want his filthy blood dirtying my boots or ruining the scenery."
"Yes, Young Master Zhao!" the lackeys chorused, their faces lit up with malicious glee.
As they dragged his broken body away by the ankles, Lin Mo's vision began to fade into a dark, blurry tunnel. He could hear the distant, mocking laughter of the other apprentices who had gathered to watch, none of them daring to speak up against the tyrannical Zhao Feng.
Am I going to die like this? Lin Mo thought, a bitter, suffocating despair gripping his heart. An insignificant ant, crushed under the boots of the privileged?
He had been born into this world with a defective body. His meridians—the pathways that allowed cultivators to absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—were blocked and shriveled. For eighteen years, he had endured beatings, starvation, and endless mockery, clinging to the desperate hope that a medicinal herb could change his fate. Now, even that hope was stolen.
The lackeys dragged him out of the pavilion and to the edge of the sect's mountain peak. The wind howled furiously here. Below them lay the Slag Valley—a terrifying, thousand-foot-deep abyss where the sect dumped its failed pills, toxic ashes, and the bodies of dead beasts. It was a place of absolute death, filled with poisonous miasma.
"Enjoy your flight, trash," Wang sneered.
With a heavy kick, Lin Mo was sent tumbling over the edge.
The wind roared in his ears as he plummeted into the abyss. The world spun in a dizzying blur of grey mist and jagged rocks. The sheer terror of falling was quickly replaced by a strange, numb acceptance.
I curse this world... Lin Mo's final, silent scream echoed in his mind. If there is a next life, I will not be the ant...
His body crashed violently into the thick, toxic sludge at the bottom of the valley. The impact shattered whatever bones remained intact. A massive mouthful of heart-blood sprayed from his lips, landing directly onto a cracked, soot-black cauldron he always kept tied to his waist.
It was a worthless trinket he had bought for half a copper coin from a dying mortal merchant years ago. He had kept it to boil his meager rations.
But as his life force rapidly faded, the world around him suddenly stopped. The howling wind died down. The toxic miasma froze in mid-air.
The black cauldron, soaked in his blood, began to tremble. It vibrated with an ancient, terrifying frequency, suddenly glowing with an eerie, blinding purple light that pierced through the gloom of the Slag Valley. It shrank rapidly into a streak of light and shot directly into the center of Lin Mo's forehead, entering his Sea of Consciousness.
A mechanical, ancient voice, sounding as if it came from the beginning of time, resonated directly within his soul:
[Bloodline verified. Mortal shell detected. The Heavenly Forge System has awakened from its slumber.] [Host status: Catastrophic damage. Vital signs failing. Estimated time of death: 14 seconds.] [Scanning environment... Warning: Extreme toxicity detected.] [Detecting nearby materials: 500 pounds of Toxic Sludge Pills (Failed Qi-Gathering Pills).] [Initiating emergency protocol. Forced purification and mutation activated... 100% Success Rate Guaranteed.]
Lin Mo lay half-submerged in the mud, gasping for air as the mechanical voice echoed in his mind. The pain was still there, but his mind was forcefully kept awake by a strange, cooling energy.
In the center of the vast, dark void of his mind, the black cauldron materialized. It rotated slowly, radiating an aura of absolute dominance. Inside the cauldron, a thumb-sized pill began to form out of thin air. It wasn't the foul-smelling, green sludge he was lying in.
This pill was a flawless, translucent gold. It emitted a blinding light, and on its smooth surface, three delicate veins resembling tiny, soaring dragons swirled continuously.
[Purification Complete. Impurities removed: 100%.] [Acquired: Perfect Grade Marrow Cleansing Pill.]
"A Perfect Grade..." Lin Mo muttered through broken lips, his golden eyes wide with absolute disbelief.
In the cultivation world, pills were categorized into Low, Mid, High, and Supreme grades based on how many impurities were left by the alchemist. But a 'Perfect Grade'? A pill with zero impurities, marked by the legendary 'Pill Veins'? Even the Grand Elders of the Azure Cloud Sect, the mythical figures who could split mountains with a wave of their hands, could only dream of forging a pill with a single vein.
A three-veined pill was a myth! A legend from the primordial era! And this mysterious system had just created one using the absolute worst garbage imaginable!
Without a second thought, driven by the primal instinct to survive, Lin Mo commanded his mind. The golden pill materialized in his bloody hand. He shoved it into his mouth and swallowed.
It didn't taste like medicine. It tasted like pure, concentrated lightning.
BOOM!
It felt as if a dormant volcano had just erupted within his stomach. A terrifying, yet impossibly pure surge of spiritual energy exploded outward, rushing violently into his shriveled, crippled meridians.
"Arghhhh!" Lin Mo roared, his voice tearing through the silent valley. His body arched off the ground, convulsing uncontrollably.
Crack. Snap. Squelch.
The shattered bones in his chest were forcefully pulled back into place, knitting together with explosive speed. But the healing was only the beginning. The tyrannical energy of the Perfect Grade pill began its true work: The legendary Marrow Cleansing process.
Thick, foul-smelling black sludge—the congenital impurities that had blocked his meridians since birth—oozed rapidly from his pores. His previously narrow, dead meridians were forcibly torn open, expanded, and reinforced with a golden light, becoming wider and tougher than rivers of steel.
The pain was a thousand times worse than Zhao Feng's beating, but Lin Mo laughed wildly through his gritted teeth. He could feel it. He could feel the spiritual energy of the world finally answering him!
But the System wasn't done.
[Marrow Cleansing successful. Host's physique has been restructured.]
[Analyzing residual pill energy... Mutation Triggered: Primordial Dragon-Elephant Strength.]
His muscles bulged, tearing and rebuilding themselves on a cellular level. His skin hardened, taking on a faint, almost imperceptible metallic sheen. The phantom roar of an ancient dragon and a divine elephant echoed in his ears.
Surrounding spiritual energy in the toxic valley, usually too chaotic to absorb, was purified by the cauldron and rushed toward him like a massive whirlpool.
[Qi Condensation Realm: Level 1... Breakthrough!]
[Qi Condensation Realm: Level 2... Breakthrough!]
[Qi Condensation Realm: Level 3... Breakthrough!]
The storm of energy finally settled, dispersing the toxic mist around him.
Lin Mo slowly pushed himself off the ground. He didn't feel weak. He felt like he could tear a mountain apart with his bare hands. He looked down at his arms, watching the explosive power rippling beneath his skin.
He slowly opened his eyes. A sharp, terrifying golden glint flashed in his pupils, cutting through the darkness of the valley. He clenched his right fist, pulling his arm back, and punched the solid, ten-ton boulder next to him without using any martial arts techniques.
CRASH!
The deafening explosion sounded like a thunderclap. The massive boulder didn't just break; it completely exploded into a cloud of fine, grey dust, swept away by the shockwave of his pure physical strength.
He was no longer the crippled Fire Servant who needed to bow to survive. In mere minutes, defying all laws of cultivation, he had reached the Third Level of Qi Condensation, surpassing even the so-called genius, Young Master Zhao.
Lin Mo looked up at the towering, jagged cliff above the Slag Valley. He wiped the dried blood and black impurities from his face. The naïve, desperate boy who died halfway down the cliff was gone. What remained was a predator who had just discovered his fangs.
A cold, blood-chilling smile crept onto his lips.
"Zhao Feng," Lin Mo whispered to the howling wind, his voice steady and dark. "Enjoy my Three-Leaf Spirit Grass. Because when I climb out of this valley... I will take everything you have. Your pride, your cultivation, your life... I will grind it all into the forge."