At night, in a village called Fuxian, a place so forgotten by the world that not even cultivators bothered to mark it on their maps, a boy slept inside a humble house belonging to an average family.
That boy was named Han Tian, the protagonist of our story. He had long, messy black hair and wore spotless white robes that served as his pajamas. His skin was fair as fine jade, and his face—though still childish—already showed hints of a striking beauty.
In his dreams, Han Tian was no ordinary boy. He was a God of War. Before him, countless demons surged forth, swirling in a chaotic mass until, through the power of a dark robe, they fused into a terrifying monster. But even that fused beast fell before his sword.
An immortal of majestic bearing descended from the heavens to attack him, while more demons merged into increasingly powerful abominations. Yet none of them could halt the monarch of battle.
From the sky, more immortals descended, clad in celestial armor and wielding divine weapons, some riding on heavenly steeds made of cloud and lightning. One by one, they charged. One by one, they died.
As he moved like a storm through their ranks, Han Tian shouted:
—"Petty ants! Do you dare raise your blades against this monarch? I shall exterminate you all!"
With a single swing of his sword, the heavens trembled and his enemies vanished.
At last, he sat atop a mountain of divine and demonic corpses, closed his eyes, and began to recite solemn scriptures:
"War is my essence, battle is my path.""My power is fed by the blood of my enemies.""My heart beats with the fury of a thousand battles."
Just as he finished his final verse, a voice echoed in the distance:
—Wake up, Han Tian…
He ignored the words. Why should a god obey?
—Wake up, Han Tian! —the voice shouted, louder this time.
And in that moment, the dream shattered like porcelain.
Han Tian's eyes flew open. The first thing he saw was the wooden ceiling above him. He sat up with a long yawn and said:
—Mother, I'm already awake…
He took off his white robes and pulled black ones with white stripes from the wardrobe. Once dressed, he opened the door and walked through the main hall of the house until he reached the dining area.
On the table were bowls filled with beans and beef.
—Beans? At this hour, Mother?! —he exclaimed with a tragic look.
His mother, Han Ni, frowned.
—Tian'er, don't be rebellious. Sit down and eat.
Sighing in defeat, he sat and began to eat the beans without enthusiasm.
—Stop complaining, —his father, Han Yu, chimed in— They're not even bad.
—Father… I just don't like beans… —Han Tian replied with a sad tone.
—I hated them when I was your age too. But now, I've come to appreciate food. So eat up, —his father said firmly.
Han Tian obeyed. Once he finished, Han Yu smiled.
—See? You could do it. Now do that every day.
—Father… don't be so cruel… —Han Tian mumbled, looking pitiful.
—Who says you won't be just like me when you grow up? —Han Yu said with a laugh.
—Never! —Han Tian huffed, puffing his cheeks— I'll be a cultivator… and I'll become immortal!
Han Yu's eyes softened with a nostalgic smile.
—Once, a cultivator came to our village. He said a cultivator is still far from being an immortal…
Han Tian's eyes widened.
—Why didn't you ever tell me? What if he was a mysterious one?!
Those words clearly irritated his father.
—You don't understand what it's like to be near a true cultivator, —he said sternly.
Those words only made Han Tian long for cultivation even more. At that moment, Han Ni returned, bringing more beans, and smacked her husband on the head with a wooden spoon.
—Both of you, behave!
Seeing the second helping of beans, Han Tian looked utterly heartbroken.
—Mother, please——This is your punishment for arguing at the table! —she interrupted.
Han Tian ate in silence and, once done, stormed off to his room, slamming the door shut behind him.
He collapsed onto his bed, and the scriptures from his dream echoed in his mind.
He began to recite them again, slowly. As he did, something strange stirred around him—an invisible force swirling in the air, seeping into his body.
—What is this...?
He remembered the stories and old books he had read about cultivation. Then, realization struck him like lightning.
—This… this is Qi!
He was stunned. The chance of someone being born with cultivation talent in a place like this was barely 1%.
And he… was that 1%.
But his joy didn't last.
Suddenly, pain surged through him. His body felt like it was about to burst. He tried to stop, but his limbs weakened and his mind began to fade.
—What's happening to m—
He didn't finish the thought.
He collapsed.
One hour passed.
Sunlight peeked through the window, and Han Tian, drenched in sweat, slowly opened his eyes.
—What… what happened to me?