The wind howled through the jagged cliffs of the Blackspire Ravine, a place where only the desperate or the damned dared to tread. Blood stained the rocks, some fresh, some faded—remnants of beasts and fools alike.
A boy crouched beside the corpse of a saberhorn wolf, its throat torn open and black ichor still steaming. His hands moved with practiced calm as he carved into the beast's chest cavity, extracting a dark purple core and slipping it into a cracked pouch at his side.
His name was Li Xuan, and he was not yet fifteen.
His hair, long and unkempt, clung to his sweat-drenched skin. Sharp blue eyes scanned the shadows, always expecting more. His clothes were torn, the once-white robes now gray with filth and dried blood. But his movements were precise. Efficient. Deadly.
This was survival.
And he had done it alone for five years.
Once, he had been a son of the Ardent Flame Clan—the so-called rulers of Blackroot Hollow. Born to them with high expectations… and discarded like trash the moment his Spirit Root test revealed nothing but void.
No fire. No earth. Not even a fragment of qi resonance.
Just emptiness.
A disgrace.
He still remembered the expressions on their faces. Disgust. Pity. Amusement.
They called him cursed. Useless. A stain on the clan's bloodline.
And on the night of his tenth birthday, they left him outside the city walls with nothing but a shredded outer robe and a broken dagger. That was their mercy.
He had survived.
And he had not forgotten.
"Soon," he whispered to himself, voice dry and cracked. "You'll see what your mistake has cost you."
As if in answer, the wolf's corpse twitched.
Li Xuan tensed, instantly crouching low. His fingers gripped the dagger again as his eyes darted toward the shadows. But what stirred wasn't the beast—it was something else.
The core in his pouch pulsed once. Then again. A faint vibration—so subtle it might've been imagined.
Then the air grew heavy. The wind vanished. Time slowed.
And a voice that did not belong to the world whispered into his skull.
[System Integration: Initiating…]
Li Xuan staggered backward. Pain lanced through his skull like white fire. His breath caught in his throat.
[Compatible vessel found: Li Xuan]
[Dormant conditions fulfilled: Five years of survival with no spiritual resonance]
[System unlocked: Devouring Heaven Manual]
"No… what is this—?"
His knees buckled. The pouch at his side burst open, and the wolf core shattered into dust, swirling into the air like glowing ash. It surged toward him and vanished into his chest.
And then—agony.
Flames surged through his veins. His vision blurred. Every bone felt like it cracked and reformed in a heartbeat. His muscles tore and stitched themselves back together. He screamed—a raw, broken sound that echoed across the cliffs.
It wasn't just pain. It was rebirth.
[Essence accepted. Initial evolution complete.]
The pain vanished. His limbs fell still.
He lay gasping on the cold rock, drenched in sweat, eyes wide with disbelief.
He could feel something inside him. Something vast and boundless.
Qi.
Real, flowing spiritual energy.
His fingers trembled as he held them before his face. A faint trail of dark mist danced between his fingertips, vanishing like smoke.
He laughed. Low and bitter.
"I can… cultivate."
The voice returned—but this time it was not a system prompt. It was presence. A will.
Cold. Ancient. Hungry.
"Feed me."
Li Xuan's eyes narrowed.
"What are you?"
The answer came not in words, but in instinct. Images. Memory fragments. A divine manual of forbidden power. A system designed not to guide… but to devour.
The Devouring Heaven Manual.
It did not grant power freely. It demanded a price.
Blood. Cores. Souls. It must feed—or it would feed on him.
Li Xuan rose shakily to his feet. Every inch of him ached, but within that pain surged strength. His first breath as a cultivator felt like fire in his lungs.
He turned to look back toward the horizon—where the distant flickers of torchlight marked the walls of Blackroot Hollow.
His home.
His exile.
His beginning.
Back in Blackroot Hollow, the Ardent Flame Clan was celebrating. A new prodigy had awakened with a rare triple-root affinity. Praise echoed through the manor halls. Wine flowed. They laughed and toasted to their "rising future."
No one remembered the boy they had once cast out.
Li Xuan's expression was blank. Cold wind tugged at his robes. The scent of blood still lingered.
And then—he smiled.
It didn't reach his eyes.
"You threw me away like garbage.
Now I'll rise from nothing—
And bury your name beneath my feet."