Blood.
It pooled beneath Lin Xian's trembling fingers, seeping into the cracks of the stone arena where he lay, motionless. The once-proud young master of the Lin Clan was nothing more than a broken figure, gasping for breath as laughter and jeers rang in his ears.
He had been the pride of the clan. A prodigy blessed with talent and intelligence far beyond his years. The one who stood at the pinnacle of his generation.
Now, he was nothing.
"Is this the same Lin Xian who once boasted that he would surpass even the elders?" A voice sneered from above.
Lin Xian barely managed to lift his head. Through blurred vision, he saw Lin Feng standing over him, arms crossed, a cruel smirk on his lips.
Lin Feng. His own cousin. The same boy who had once followed him like a shadow, eyes filled with admiration.
Now, those same eyes gleamed with mockery.
"Look at him. He's pathetic," another disciple jeered.
"From genius to cripple. The heavens must truly despise him."
Laughter exploded around him, but Lin Xian barely heard it. His body was numb. His breathing shallow.
He should have been used to this by now.
A year ago, Lin Xian had been untouchable. The shining future of the Lin Clan. But everything had changed on that fateful night—when his meridians shattered without warning.
It was supposed to be impossible. Cultivators could be crippled in battle, but for one's meridians to collapse without external force? It was unheard of.
Some said it was karma. That he had flown too close to the heavens and been punished for his arrogance.
Others whispered darker rumors. That someone had made it happen.
But none of that mattered now.
The moment his cultivation crumbled, so too did everything else. His so-called friends abandoned him. His father, once so proud, could barely bring himself to look at his only son. Even the servants who once bowed in respect now treated him like a stranger.
And now, here he was, beaten and humiliated before the entire clan.
Lin Xian gritted his teeth, forcing his broken body to move. A simple task, yet his limbs felt like lead.
A boot suddenly slammed into his chest.
CRACK!
Pain exploded through his ribs as Lin Xian was sent skidding across the stone floor. A sharp, metallic taste filled his mouth as he coughed up blood.
"Stay down, cousin." Lin Feng's voice was cold. "There's no point in struggling."
Lin Xian refused.
His nails scraped against the ground as he fought to push himself up, but his body refused to obey. His muscles screamed. His vision darkened.
No. Not like this.
He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms until fresh blood dripped onto the stone beneath him.
Why?
Why had fate done this to him?
Why was he, Lin Xian, once the greatest genius of the Lin Clan, reduced to this state?
I won't accept it.
A sudden boom echoed across the sky.
Thunder rumbled, though the skies were clear.
Lin Xian barely noticed as a strange, chilling sensation crept into his body. At first, it was subtle—like a whisper against his skin. But then, it grew. An icy storm surging through his veins, spreading to his limbs, his heart, his very soul.
And then, he heard it.
A voice.
"Do you wish to change your fate?"
Lin Xian's breath caught.
The voice did not belong to Lin Feng. Nor to any of the disciples around him. It resonated from somewhere deeper—as if coming from within his very being.
It was ancient. Powerful. And filled with something terrifying.
For the first time since his fall from grace, a flicker of something long forgotten stirred within him.
Hope.
With the last of his strength, Lin Xian whispered a single word.
"Yes."
The moment the word left his lips, agony unlike anything he had ever known tore through him.
His body convulsed violently as raw energy erupted within him. His broken meridians—long thought to be beyond repair—shattered once more, but this time, something new took their place.
Something stronger.
Something monstrous.
The pain was unbearable, a thousand blades slicing through his soul at once. Yet, beneath the torment, Lin Xian felt it.
Power.
It surged through him like a storm, like a wildfire consuming everything in its path. His muscles, once weak, burned with newfound strength. His bones groaned as if reforging themselves anew.
And deep within his dantian, where once there was only emptiness—something awoke.
A pulse. A heartbeat of raw, untamed energy.
Then, silence.
When Lin Xian opened his eyes, the world was no longer the same.
The murmurs around him had ceased.
He pushed himself to his feet, expecting the familiar weakness to drag him back down.
It didn't.
His limbs felt… light. As if the weight of his shattered past had been lifted.
Lin Feng, who had moments ago stood over him with arrogance, now took a step back, his expression unreadable.
"What… What is this?" he muttered.
Lin Xian didn't answer. He was too busy feeling.
His body pulsed with an unfamiliar yet intoxicating power. The energy within him was wild, untamed—different from anything he had ever known.
He raised a hand, flexing his fingers. A spark of energy crackled at his fingertips, vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.
The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
He could cultivate again.
No.
He wasn't just restored—he was reborn.
And this time…
He would not fall.
A slow, deliberate smile curled his lips as he turned his gaze toward Lin Feng.
"You look nervous, cousin." His voice, once weak, now carried an edge of steel.
Lin Feng flinched.
For the first time in a year, Lin Xian saw it.
Fear.
And it was glorious.