Above the world, where the stars weave threads of destiny, a presence older than time itself observed. It felt every heartbeat, every ambition, every fear. Today, its gaze lingered on a fragile thread — one almost invisible in the tapestry of fate.
Sol Jin. An orphan. A nobody. His life was meaningless to the world, yet somehow, the cosmos paused, curious whether this insignificant boy would shatter under his own weight… or rise to shake the heavens.
The plaza of the Azure Dragon Genius Selection was alive with energy. Young cultivators from every corner of the Eastern Dominion had gathered. Clans paraded their heirs, elders whispered secrets of talent, and spectators buzzed with speculation. It was a stage where geniuses were crowned and the weak were crushed.
In a corner, almost invisible among the glittering crowds, stood Sol Jin. His clothes were patched, his body thin, yet his eyes burned with stubborn defiance. He whispered to himself, barely audible:
> "Just one step… one chance…"
He had nowhere to return. The orphanage that had sheltered him had long since abandoned him. Today was either a door… or a grave.
---
The Spirit Evaluation Stone, a massive crystal at the plaza's center, pulsed faintly. One by one, cultivators placed their palms on its surface. Light flared in colors that marked talent: Blue for the skilled, Red for the rare, Gold for the chosen. Cheers erupted as scores were revealed.
Then Sol Jin stepped forward.
The world seemed to hold its breath. The crystal barely flickered as his palm touched it. Darkness. Silence.
The plaza froze. Not even a whisper of light escaped.
Murmurs rose from the crowd:
> "An orphan? He dares enter?"
"No clan, no backing, no talent. Why is he here?"
Sol Jin felt every eye, every judgment, every sneer. He did not flinch. Not outwardly.
High above, the cosmic presence stirred. Threads of fate twisted and shivered.
> "See him now… broken before the world. Watch the smallest spark struggle against the storm. Let him taste despair, for only in the abyss can fire awaken."
---
The strongest of the Qinghe Clan, Qinghe Zhao, a boy no older than Sol Jin but born with fortune on his side, stepped forward. His aura was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. He looked at Sol Jin with pure disdain.
> "You dare stand here?" Zhao's voice carried across the plaza, cold and deliberate. "Do you know what this is?"
Sol Jin's heartbeat did not falter.
> "I… want to try," he said, his voice quiet but unshakable.
The crowd laughed. Some leaned closer to see the "orphan fool" get crushed.
Zhao cracked his knuckles. There was a glint in his eyes — amusement mixed with cruelty.
> "Very well. Step forward, little mouse."
Sol Jin did.
The moment was brief. Zhao moved faster than the eye could follow. One strike, clean and precise, sent Sol Jin sprawling across the stone tiles. Pain lanced through his ribs. The air left his lungs.
He coughed, tasting blood, yet struggled to rise. The crowd erupted, half in shock, half in laughter.
> "Pathetic," muttered an elder, shaking his head. "A child like this should never step here."
But Sol Jin's eyes burned. He wiped the blood from his lips, steadied himself, and raised his chin.
Even the heavens watched, curious now, threads twisting with anticipation.
> "So fragile… yet so stubborn. Perhaps this one deserves more than pity."
Zhao stepped closer, pressing his advantage, but the tiniest spark of admiration flickered in his eyes. Not for Sol Jin's strength, but for his audacity.
Sol Jin felt every strike, every shove, every laugh, yet something deep inside refused to break. Pain coursed through his limbs, yet his spirit whispered, faint but persistent:
> "This… is not the end."
---
When Zhao finally hurled him toward the edge of the Darkwood Forest, a forbidden place said to devour the weak, the boy's body crashed against roots and rocks. Blood mingled with dirt, vision blurred, yet he forced himself to crawl.
The crowd faded from his mind. Their laughter, their derision — irrelevant now. Only the forest, dark and silent, and the whispering cosmos above remained.
And then, in the shadows of the deepest part of the forest, a cave awaited. A presence older than time itself called to him. A pulse of energy, almost unbearable, hummed from within. Sol Jin's body trembled.
The heavens held their breath. The thread of fate wavered.
> "Rise, forgotten child. Your true story begins where the world has abandoned you."
And with that, Sol Jin entered the darkness.