The wind stirred dust across the withered farmlands, sweeping through the dying crops like a ghost fleeing the sun. In the shadow of the mountains, the village of Heiyan barely clung to life. And tucked in its farthest corner—its forgotten edge—stood the Willow Orphan Lodge.
Cracked walls. A roof patched with beast hide. Children with hollow cheeks sat cross-legged in silence, chewing hard roots for lunch. No one spoke of dreams here—only survival.
Then, one morning, he came.
A black-robed figure descended from the sky, riding on a floating iron disk marked with spirit runes. His presence felt unnatural, like the moment before a storm—too quiet, too sharp.
He landed at the gates, tall and still, his face half-covered by a bronze mask etched with the insignia of a flame: the emblem of the Holy Saint Sect, one of the Eight Major Pillars of the Lower Realm.
The orphanage caretaker, a limping woman named Mother Jiu, bowed low. "E-Examiner, forgive the lack of hospitality…"
The man didn't answer at first. His voice, when it came, was even and smooth—used to obedience.
"I am Elder Huo Chen, Outer Realm Examiner of Holy Saint Sect. I have come to test spirit roots. Step aside."
They gathered the children in the courtyard. Thirty-five. All between ten and sixteen.
The elder waved his sleeve, revealing a crystal prism that pulsed with faint light. One by one, the children stepped forward, placing their palm on its surface.
Most flickered faintly. One or two gave off a dull glow. Elder Huo said nothing. His silence weighed heavier with every test.
Then came the boy.
Sixteen years old. Average build. Slightly hunched. Pale skin, dark eyes—too quiet, even for this place. No one in the village remembered his parents. Not even the boy did. He had no name—only a nickname the children used:
"Ash." For his quietness. For his habit of watching the fire burn alone.
He touched the crystal.
It didn't glow. It howled.
A wind burst out from the prism, shaking the nearby doors. The stone beneath Ash's feet cracked faintly. Light flared—not golden or blue like the others, but a dim earthen brown with traces of dark grey, like buried bones.
Elder Huo's masked eyes narrowed.
"...Low-grade Earth Spiritual Root. Slightly impure, but deep."
"Unrefined. Untapped."
He stared at Ash a moment longer.
"Acceptable."
He turned to Mother Jiu. "I'll take him. Prepare no belongings. We leave now."
The journey began that evening.
Ash sat quietly at the back of a floating carriage pulled by two iron-horned wind beasts, with Elder Huo seated cross-legged at the front, meditating.
They passed over forests, rivers, and distant peaks—none of which the boy had names for. Eventually, the elder opened his eyes and spoke for the first time in hours.
"You are fortunate."
Ash didn't respond.
The elder continued. "Many in your village will die before they reach thirty. You will not. The path of cultivation leads beyond aging, beyond weakness. But it is not kind."
Ash turned his gaze forward. "What do I need to know?"
Elder Huo raised a hand. From his sleeve, a glowing scroll floated out and opened in the air.
📚 The Path of Cultivation – As Taught by the Holy Saint Sect
"The foundation of our world is Qi. The invisible breath of heaven and earth. Cultivation is the art of absorbing it, refining it, and becoming more than mortal."
🧱 Stage 1 – Root Forging
Opening the spiritual root and beginning Qi absorption
Most die at this stage, unable to draw or store Qi properly
🔥 Stage 2 – Qi Condensation
Forming Qi threads and cycling them through spirit veins
Can enhance strength, sight, and speed
Outer disciples usually reside here
💠 Stage 3 – Core Vein Formation
The Qi solidifies into a core
Allows flying, artifact control, and beast subjugation
👑 Stage 4 – Throne Manifestation
Each cultivator awakens a Soul Throne, a symbolic throne reflecting their affinity and fate
Thrones can be elemental (Flame, Ice, Earth), bestial, or rare types
Your throne defines your cultivation path forever
⚔️ Stage 5+ – (Hidden)
"You'll learn of those later. Only the truly chosen step past the Throne."
Elder Huo rolled the scroll back into his sleeve.
"You will begin as an Outer Disciple. You will clean floors. Carry water. Hunt beasts. And train."
He looked over his shoulder. "Work. Endure. Learn."
"And perhaps, one day, your Throne will awaken."
Ash said nothing. His mind drifted.
Not toward the Sect.
Not toward Qi, or thrones, or immortality.
But toward that flicker—deep within him—when the crystal howled. That unnatural chill. That faint echo of a voice in the light. A voice he alone had heard.
A whisper in the dust:
"You are not what they think you are."