Nestled within the embrace of Greenleaf Village, a small settlement hidden at the edge of the untamed wilderness, the breath of life pulsed slowly and anciently. It was not merely a name, but a verdant canvas that soothed the eyes—a place where towering trees reached skyward, filtering sunlight into golden fragments that danced gently through the air.
The air there—cool, pure, as though freshly born—was an invaluable gift to its residents, who, ironically, earned their living by hunting lives within the perilous forest just to survive.
Beneath that majestic silence, time crept toward the late afternoon. A slender figure—the silhouette of a fifteen-year-old boy—moved along a moss-covered path.
That was Chen Huang.
Each step he took was calm, yet hidden beneath it was an unspoken weight. He wore simple, slightly worn clothing that blended seamlessly with the rustic scenery.
In his hand, he carried a small wooden plate upon which several dried medicinal herbs were neatly arranged. Their herbal, faintly bitter aroma drifted softly through the air.
He walked toward a wooden hut. The house appeared old, as if constructed from the fibers of time itself. Its wood had darkened from years of rain and sun, emanating a peaceful aura of decay.
Chen Huang—the silenced genius. Fifteen years old, yet his life story was already filled with cruel rises and falls. At the age of nine, he had reached the Dou Zhi Qi stage, an achievement that earned him admiration and praise, hailing him as a rising star destined to shine brightly.
Yet six years passed like a frozen curse. His cultivation did not advance even an inch. Every effort, every drop of sweat soaking into the earth, every attempt to circulate Dou Qi through his meridians—all ended in failure, turning him into nothing more than a "useless waste" in the eyes of the world.
Chen Huang's slender fingers—calloused from labor—slowly extended as he pushed open the hut's wooden door. It creaked softly, as if releasing a long sigh of age. He stepped inside carefully, ensuring his movements made no loud sounds upon the loose wooden floorboards.
In the dim interior, he saw the person he sought.
An elderly man with a long white beard cascading down his chest sat on a low wooden stool. The evening light streaming through the window gaps reflected off the blade he was sharpening. His hands moved steadily, rhythmically, the shriiing-shriiing sound of metal against whetstone filling the silence. The dagger—an essential weapon for hunters—now gleamed coldly, ready to reap lives.
Chen Huang approached quietly and stopped beside the rough wooden table.
"Grandfather, these are the medicinal herbs you wanted," Chen Huang said softly, his voice low and faintly tired.
With utmost care and respect, he bent slightly and placed the wooden plate onto the table. It landed without a sound—an action reflecting his reverence for the old man's quiet presence.
The elderly man, Wang Nan, the head of Greenleaf Village and the only protector Chen Huang had ever known, halted his sharpening. He slowly turned his head. The wrinkles on his face formed a map of long-lived experience.
"Hu'er… how is it getting used to gathering herbs?" Wang Nan asked, his voice hoarse yet warm, his wise gaze settling upon Chen Huang.
Chen Huang pursed his lips. His previously calm expression shifted, a trace of frustration flashing briefly.
"It's still very difficult. Those beasts are too strong," he said, releasing a short sigh as his right shoulder drooped slightly, as if burdened by invisible weight. "And that Shan Feng—he keeps boasting in front of me nonstop," he added, his face now clearly sulking, lips slightly pouting, eyes filled with unmistakable annoyance.
Wang Nan stroked his beard gently, a habitual gesture of inner calm. A light, trembling chuckle escaped his throat.
"Hahaha… Hu'er, one day you'll grow used to facing those beasts." He paused, his eyes softening with deep concern. "And don't let others affect you. I only wish to advise you this… stop pursuing cultivation."
Silence instantly seized the room.
The atmosphere, once eased by Wang Nan's laughter, turned cold, heavy, and tense.
Those words seemed to pierce the air itself.
Chen Huang stood still. His expression went blank, like an untouched canvas, unreadable. His shoulders stiffened, the muscles in his neck tightening slightly—a physical response to hidden pain.
After several seconds that felt eternal, Chen Huang lifted his chin firmly and straightened his back. His previously relaxed posture transformed into one of resolute defiance. He stood tall before the old man, both fists clenched tightly at his sides, fingers whitening from pressure.
"Grandfather… I will not give up. I will become stronger, no matter what it takes," he said, his voice steady, carrying unwavering determination.
His confidence was unshakable, like armor shielding his soul from cruel words.
For Chen Huang, insults were daily sustenance. He had reached a point where he no longer cared—a mental shield forged by endless ridicule.
Yet deep within his heart, a fire still burned.
He still longed for the world of cultivation.
To him, cultivation was everything—his essence, his dignity, something no one had the right to take away.
Chen Huang is trash.
That child is a complete failure.
One by one, those bitter whispers became relentless hammers. Since the age of twelve, they had tempered Chen Huang's mind. His faith had been tested, forged, and ultimately rendered unbreakable by the storm of mockery.
"It's alright, Grandpa. I will achieve what I want someday, no matter how long it takes." He loosened his fists slightly and lowered his head—not in surrender, but as a final gesture of respect before choosing his own path.
Seeing the unmistakable resolve in Chen Huang's eyes and posture, the village chief remained silent. He knew that no words could shake Chen Huang's ironclad will.
Chen Huang recalled the oath he had once sworn to himself.
One day, I will become strong—so strong that no one will ever dare belittle me again.
His thoughts drifted back to every sneer and mocking laugh he had endured.
I will prove that I am not trash. I swear I will silence them all.
In his mind, the younger Chen Huang—who once cried alone in despair—slowly faded away. He envisioned himself standing tall, leaving behind the darkness of his past. He clenched his fist once more, this time filled with even greater conviction. His jaw tightened, his resolve hardening.
Even if I must make a pact with the devil… I will do it.
[CULTIVATION REALMS]
Each realm has 1–9 stars
(Early — Middle — Peak)
1. Dou Zhi Qi
2. Dou Zhe
3. Da Dou Zhe
4. Dou Shi
5. Da Dou Shi
6. Dou Ling
7. Dou Wang
8. Dou Huang
9. Dou Zong
10. Dou Zun
11. Ban Sheng (Semi-Saint 1–3)
12. Dou Sheng
13. Dou Di
[MONSTER RANKS]
1. Rank 1 Monster — Dou Zhi Qi
2. Rank 2 Monster — Dou Zhe
3. Rank 3 Monster — Da Dou Zhe
4. Rank 4 Monster — Dou Shi
5. Rank 5 Monster — Da Dou Shi
6. Rank 6 Monster — Dou Ling
7. Rank 7 Monster — Dou Wang
8. Rank 8 Monster — Dou Huang
9. Rank 9 Monster — Dou Zong
10. Rank 10 Monster — Dou Zun
11. Rank 11 Monster — Ban Sheng (Semi-Saint)
12. Rank 12 Monster — Dou Sheng
13. Rank 13 Monster — Dou Di
[TECHNIQUE GRADES]
1. Huang Grade
2. Xuan Grade
3. Di Grade
4. Tian GGrad