Rain lashed against the rooftops of Falling Cloud City. Beneath the overcast sky, the once-glorious Li Clan courtyard stood quiet, filled only with mocking whispers. Young disciples lined up for the annual talent assessment, their eyes burning with dreams of cultivation, status, and glory. But amidst their hopeful faces, one figure stood out—Li Feng.
He stood at the edge, shoulders hunched, his robes faded and torn. Where others burned with anticipation, he stared into the ground. Once hailed as a prodigy, the hope of the Li Clan, Li Feng was now a cripple—his spiritual meridians shattered in a mysterious accident three years ago. Since then, he had become the clan's shame, a ghost in their midst.
"Look, it's the former genius. What's he doing here?" one disciple sneered.
"Still dreaming of cultivation? Pitiful," another laughed.
Li Feng heard every word but showed no reaction. The pain of disgrace was something he'd learned to swallow whole.
At the platform, Elder Li Shan, a stern man with a long beard and sharper gaze, called the names of the participants. One by one, disciples stepped forward, placing their palms on the Spirit Stone, testing their affinity.
Blue light. Yellow light. Occasionally, red—a mark of true talent.
When Li Feng's name was finally called, silence swept over the courtyard.
"Li Feng? Why is he even here?" Elder Li Shan muttered but motioned him forward.
Li Feng approached, each step heavy. He placed his palm on the Spirit Stone. Nothing. No glow. No reaction.
Elder Li Shan scoffed. "No spiritual energy. As expected. A cripple remains a cripple."
The murmurs returned, louder now, bold in their ridicule. Even his younger cousins smirked.
Suddenly, the clan patriarch, Li Zhen, appeared. Dressed in silver robes, his expression cold.
"From today onward," Li Zhen announced, "Li Feng is stripped of all clan privileges. He is no longer a core member of the Li Clan."
Gasps filled the air.
Li Feng raised his eyes. "Father—"
Li Zhen's gaze cut like a blade. "Do not call me that. You are no son of mine."
The words struck harder than any weapon. Li Feng didn't beg. He didn't cry. He simply bowed, turned, and walked out of the courtyard—into the rain, into the shadows.
He wandered through the alleys of Falling Cloud City, soaked and forgotten. Memories of his youth haunted him—his mother's smile, his father's pride, the day he first condensed Qi. It all felt like another life.
As night fell, he reached the clan's abandoned ancestral well on the edge of the city. Cracked stone surrounded it, and moss covered its rim. Li Feng sat beside it, watching the rain ripple in the shallow water.
"Am I truly finished?" he whispered. "Is this how my story ends?"
High above, clouds parted for a moment. A streak of light blazed across the sky—a falling star. It screamed through the heavens and landed with a distant boom in the nearby forest.
The ground trembled slightly. Birds scattered. And Li Feng… he stood up.
Drawn by something unseen, he left the well and ventured into the woods.
---
He reached the impact site after an hour. Smoke curled from a shallow crater in the earth. At its center lay a glowing jade slip, cracked but pulsing faintly.
Li Feng stepped closer, his breath catching. The slip felt alive, humming with power far beyond anything he'd known.
As his fingers brushed it, light surged from the jade, engulfing him. A voice—ancient, tired, and powerful—echoed in his mind.
"So... you are the one fated to find me."
Li Feng collapsed, unconscious.
And so began the awakening of the forgotten path—the path of Heavenly Ascension