Pain.
That was the first thing Li Tianran felt when he woke.
It wasn't ordinary pain. It was as if his flesh had been peeled away, his bones shattered, and his blood set ablaze. Every nerve screamed, every muscle throbbed, but the pain didn't matter.
What mattered was what he felt in his core.
A storm.
A violent, unnatural energy churned inside his dantian — a place that had been nothing but a dead, hollow void for three years. Now it pulsed. Not with the calm, life-giving Qi of ordinary cultivation, but with something heavier. Wilder.
He sat up slowly, clutching his abdomen. His breath was shallow, his vision still blurred.
"This… this is Qi," he whispered.
> "Not the Qi you know."
The voice of Mo Cangsheng echoed in his mind, calm yet sharp, like a blade scraping against stone.
> "This Qi does not flow with the heavens. It does not nourish. It does not yield. It severs. It rejects the natural order. It will not obey you unless you survive it."
Tianran clenched his fists. "Then tell me… how do I control it?"
> "Control?" Mo Cangsheng's voice carried the faintest trace of mockery. "You do not control this Qi. You endure it. You bleed for it. Only then will it recognize you."
Before Tianran could respond, the Qi surged violently.
Agony ripped through his meridians, tearing them wider than they had been in years. He choked on his own breath and spat blood onto the stone floor. His vision went white for a moment, and for an instant, he thought his body would simply split apart.
> "If you can't endure this," Mo Cangsheng said, his tone indifferent, "then forget everything. Forget vengeance. Forget your sister. Crawl back to being a cripple. Or stand — and take the first step."
Tianran gritted his teeth so hard that blood seeped from his gums. "I… won't… crawl."
He forced himself into a cross-legged position. His whole body shook, but he pressed his palms to his knees, steadying his breath.
In. Out. In. Out.
The black Qi resisted. It wasn't like the gentle streams of spiritual energy he had once guided during cultivation lessons. It was a tempest of knives grinding against his veins, threatening to tear him apart.
> "Do not tame it," Mo Cangsheng warned. "You are not a shepherd guiding sheep. You are a butcher carving meat. Command it. Force it into submission."
Tianran exhaled sharply, then began.
He willed the Qi downward, forcing it through his torn meridians toward his dantian. It fought back violently, like a beast that refused to be caged.
His hands trembled. Blood vessels in his forearms burst, leaving angry red streaks beneath his skin. He coughed more blood, but he didn't stop.
"Move," he growled through clenched teeth.
Slowly, agonizingly, the Qi obeyed.
The first circuit was complete.
Tianran collapsed backward, gasping like a drowning man who had just reached the surface. Every breath hurt. His skin was pale, drenched in cold sweat.
But he had done it.
For the first time in three years, his dantian didn't feel like a hollow corpse. It pulsed — weakly, but alive.
> "Good," Mo Cangsheng said. "You've survived. For now."
Tianran chuckled weakly. "Is… this what cultivation feels like again?"
> "No."
The voice was cold.
> "This is survival. Cultivation comes later — if you live long enough."
---
Hours passed.
Tianran repeated the process, forcing the Qi to circulate through his body again and again. Every rotation felt like tearing open half-healed wounds. His body wanted to quit, to give in to the numbness creeping at the edge of his mind.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Every time he wanted to stop, he saw Qing's face.
Her smile. Her voice calling his name.
Her fear when they were left alone in this world.
He couldn't stop.
When dawn's pale light finally crept through the cracks of the chamber's stone walls, Tianran opened his eyes.
His body was a wreck. But the storm in his core… it was less wild than before. Still dangerous, still defiant, but almost willing to be guided.
---
He struggled to his feet, using the pedestal for support. His arms shook, but his grip tightened.
"Mo Cangsheng… what now?"
> "Now?" The voice chuckled, cold and humorless. "Now you learn to cut."
"Cut?"
> "Your body. Your limits. Your fate."
Before Tianran could ask, the black Qi stirred again, flowing into his right arm.
> "This is your first lesson: The Severing Slash. Not a technique. Not an art. A will made into a blade. If you cannot cut with intent, then you are unworthy of my path."
Tianran's breath grew shallow. He felt the Qi gather in his hand, burning like molten iron.
"Show me… how."
> "No. Find it yourself. The heavens won't guide you. Neither will I."
Tianran closed his eyes.
He remembered Wu Jian's sneer. The disgust in the eyes of the elders. The laughter of the disciples.
The nights he spent alone, knowing no one would ever care if he lived or died.
His rage ignited.
The Qi answered.
He swung.
A jagged black arc ripped across the chamber, slamming into the stone wall. The impact echoed like thunder.
When the dust settled, a deep, ugly scar marred the wall — a wound that would never heal.
Tianran dropped to his knees, his chest heaving, blood dripping from his lips.
But he smiled.
That single cut carried more power than anything he'd done in years.
> "Decent," Mo Cangsheng said. "But a single slash won't defy fate. If you want true strength, you will walk the path I walked. And that path will demand everything."
Tianran raised his head, his eyes burning with defiance.
"Then I'll give everything."
---
Far away, beyond the Azure Vein Sect, something stirred.
A man cloaked in shadow opened his eyes.
"Mo Cangsheng…" he murmured.
A cruel smile spread across his lips.
"So your will still lingers. How amusing."
He stood, his presence distorting the air itself.
"Let's see who dares to carry it."