In the ancient land, demons ran rampant—wild, vicious, and merciless. They hunted and slaughtered the human race at will, and humanity was weak and helpless.
In the first year of the first era, a divine mountain descended from the heavens. Upon its face were etched four powerful characters: "Tiandao Zhaoran" (The Way of Heaven is Righteous and Unyielding). Following this divine event, three great sages appeared. They climbed the sacred mountain and, from it, learned the secrets of magic. Together, they founded the Mystic Cults and established eighty-one sacred shrines to protect and empower humanity in its endless battle against the demons.
The human race was no longer destined for ruin. The Great Way shall endure!
Qingyue City, Nanxing Academy.
With the final drops of spring rain fading away, Qingyue City welcomed the arrival of summer.
The slightly warm weather left many students at Nanxing Academy feeling drowsy, but not the students of Junior Class Three. Their eyes were wide and alert, all fixated on the girl standing at the front of the classroom—a fifteen or sixteen-year-old wearing a white dress.
"The path of martial cultivation is harsh and full of obstacles. Apprentices are ranked across ten stars. Reaching ten stars means you become a true warrior. After that, you can break into the Martial Realm—comprising the three great stages: Kongming, Guiyuan, and Shenyuan. Each step is incredibly difficult. But if someone possesses rare talent and breaks through the Martial Realm, they may ascend as an Emperor—a powerful guardian of the human race. In our history, there have been thirty-six such Emperors. And beyond even that lies the Great Dao. Should one create their own supernatural power, they may become a Saint. Yet, in thousands of years, only three have achieved this."
"In addition to the myriad supernatural powers, there are also divine runes and bone markings. Our race is protected by the gods. Now, let's begin learning about the divine runes!"
The girl in the white dress stood calmly at the podium. Her clear, crystalline eyes swept over the attentive students. Her gentle, elegant voice was like a mountain spring—crisp, sweet, and full of vitality.
Her name was Lin Ziyan, a prodigy of Nanxing Academy. At only fifteen years old, she was already on the verge of becoming a full-fledged warrior. Her brilliance was nothing short of extraordinary.
She was also the proud disciple of the academy's Vice Dean. That day, she was substituting as a teacher—an event that thrilled the students.
"If we compare a supernatural technique to a word, then divine runes are the strokes that make up that word. Only by understanding the rune and mastering the strokes can one truly write the word—and wield supernatural power."
"The Three Tidal Palms is a low-tier supernatural technique made up of thirty-six basic divine runes. Today, we'll focus on the first three."
She walked a few graceful steps forward and glanced over the students.
Her purple-glossed hair cascaded behind her like a waterfall. A strand of hair was pinned near her ear with a delicate gold-threaded crystal bead. Her white silk gown accentuated her graceful figure. The wide sleeves flowed like clouds, and her fair, jade-like arms were visible. A simple silver bracelet adorned her slender wrist. Her demeanor was as elegant as a snow fairy from a mountain peak.
With her stunning appearance, mysterious background, and status as a ten-star apprentice, Lin Ziyan was admired by every student present. Many of them looked up to her in awe.
Despite the complexity of divine runes, Lin Ziyan drew three of them flawlessly on the board. Then she turned to face the class. As her dress swayed slightly, her neckline and collarbone subtly revealed themselves. The flowing skirt shimmered like moonlight. Her smile radiated a captivating charm.
The students, mostly twelve or thirteen years old, were still childish in appearance. But in their hearts, admiration for Miss Ziyan burned brightly.
"Miss Ziyan is so beautiful!"
"I'll become a warrior—so I can fight demons with her!"
These were the heartfelt thoughts of most of the boys. To fight side by side with Miss Ziyan was a lifelong dream.
But at the back of the classroom, a thin, quiet boy sat in silence. He was hidden behind the taller students in front, barely noticeable. His facial features were handsome, though not overly so—well-proportioned, with lively, intelligent eyes.
His name was Ye Wei. In this class—and even within his family—he existed like a shadow, seldom noticed.
He still remembered the disappointment in his elders' eyes when they discovered his talent level was only red—the lowest.
"Divine runes... I'll never become a warrior in this life. What use is it to study them? Without power, I can't even draw the runes."
Ye Wei smiled bitterly. He thought back to his entrance examination results at Nanxing Academy, and his palm trembled. Blue veins rose on the back of his hand.
Talent was ranked across seven colors: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Ye Wei had red-level talent—the weakest. Even if he worked himself to the bone, the most he could achieve was the rank of ten-star apprentice. The path to becoming a true warrior was hopeless.
"Bullied in the academy... ignored by my family..."
"I, Ye Wei, also want to be a genius like Miss Ziyan. I want to be a warrior admired by my family, like my cousin. I want to be the pride of my clan. But... why is reality so cruel?"
So much frustration and despair had built up in Ye Wei's heart. He had tried countless times—even risking damage to his sea of consciousness—but still failed.
Years of suffering had yielded nothing. It was a pain few could understand.
Despite everything, Ye Wei had never truly given up. But some realities are immovable.
He sighed softly, bitterness swelling in his chest. His fingers tapped idly on his desk, ignoring the lesson. In front of him lay a battered book, its cover made of stiff cowhide. It looked like it had been scorched in a fire, blackened and charred.
The cover depicted a green mountain stretching high into the sky.
Though the writing was faded, faint characters could still be made out, exuding a mysterious aura.
Ye Wei had found this ancient, ruined book discarded in the family's basement trash heap. Long ago, the Ye Clan had been a powerful imperial family. Their ancestor had been an Emperor-level powerhouse. But the glory of the past had long been buried by time. Now, in Qingyue City—an unremarkable corner of the Great Zhou Dynasty—the Ye Clan had fallen to a second-rate family.
Ye Wei unconsciously traced the rough, worn surface of the book cover. It had a strange texture—peculiar and indescribable.
What he didn't realize was that, as he touched the book, an invisible force began to stir. Like ripples spreading across water, the energy expanded in circles from his fingertips.
A wave of drowsiness washed over him. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier—until, at last, he fell asleep atop the old book.
Ye Wei slipped into a long, deep dream.
In the dream, he saw a towering green mountain, its slopes covered with pine and cypress trees. Upon closer look, countless mysterious runes shimmered faintly across the mountain. Suddenly, the entire peak exploded—transformed into a storm of flaming stones.
One of those stones hurtled toward him. The ancient runes engraved on it came alive, shooting into his mind with terrifying speed. A flood of divine knowledge exploded in his consciousness, and his head throbbed with unbearable pain.
The mountain on the book's cover disappeared without a trace...
The ancient, tattered pages crumbled into ashes—and vanished.