The scent of damp earth filled the air as thick mist curled through the valley, shrouding the ancient pines in an eerie glow. A lone figure knelt before a crumbling shrine, his body battered, his breath ragged. Blood dripped from his fingertips, staining the moss-covered stone beneath him.

  "Is this truly my fate?" he whispered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.

  Jiang Hao had always been cursed—at least, that’s what the villagers claimed. Born with a shattered dantian, he was deemed useless in a world where cultivation determined one’s worth. No sect would accept him, no master would teach him. He was destined to live and die as a mere mortal.

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  Yet tonight, as the heavens rumbled above and the shrine trembled beneath his touch, something ancient awakened. A surge of chilling energy crawled up his spine, burrowing deep into his very soul.

  This is not the end, a voice echoed in his mind. This is only the beginning.

  Lightning split the sky, illuminating the valley for the briefest of moments. And in that instant, Jiang Hao realized—his fate was no longer his own.