The sky above the village was beginning to darken, the pale hues of twilight descending as the sun slipped behind the mountains, yet the village square buzzed with activity and excitement. The villagers were celebrating with abandon, their cheers echoing through the air. Yang Feng found himself caught in the middle of the storm, their hands lifting him high above their heads and tossing him into the air in a jubilant frenzy.
"Yang Feng! Yang Feng!" they shouted, voices filled with joy and relief. The long, cursed drought of this village producing a spiritual master had finally ended, and Yang Feng was their hope. For the villagers, this meant salvation from a future they had thought to be bleak and devoid of spiritual promise.
Yang Feng's heart, however, was filled with confusion rather than joy. He was being tossed into the air, his body rising and falling like a feather caught in the wind, but inside, his mind was spinning. He tried to piece together the fragments of what had just occurred—the sudden dive into his spiritual sea, the sleeping wolf, and the black emblem. All of it felt surreal. He hadn't even realized he had passed the test until the villagers erupted into ecstatic celebration.
Each time he was thrown upward, he glimpsed the faces of the villagers—tears of happiness in their eyes, smiles lighting their weary faces. These were people who had waited decades for this moment. A generation of children had been tested and none had been chosen, leaving the village in quiet despair. And now, suddenly, Yang Feng was their miracle.
But for Yang Feng, the situation was far from a miracle. Each time they hurled him into the air, the confusion deepened. "What the hell is going on?" he thought, his mind buzzing with questions. Why had he been chosen? What did the wolf and the black emblem mean? And, more importantly, where exactly was he?
With each toss, his vision of the ground below became clearer, and as he soared through the air once more, the cheers of the villagers began to fade into the background. Time seemed to slow down as he activated his **double pupils**, hoping to grasp some sense of clarity in the chaotic scene. The air thickened, the surrounding world appeared to slow, and his focus sharpened as the full reality of his surroundings came into view.
The first thing he saw was the **Great Counselor** standing off to the side, watching the celebration with a neutral expression. Yang Feng focused his double pupils on the man, hoping to discern his cultivation level. Given the awe and reverence the villagers had shown him, Yang Feng assumed the counselor was someone of great spiritual power—perhaps at least a **Qi zun**.Little did he know what awaited his poor eyes!
But what Yang Feng saw when he focused on the counselor almost made his heart stop. His eyes, enhanced with the power of his double pupils, penetrated the surface of the man's aura, revealing the truth hidden beneath. There was no qi flowing through the counselor's body. None. Not a single trace of spiritual energy.
Yang Feng's eyes widened in disbelief. This man, the so-called "Great Counselor," who had arrived on a flying horse and was treated with such respect and fear by the village, hadn't even established the basic **Qi Foundation**.The absolute necessary to become a cultivator,the **Qi Tu** level.
"What in the—?!" Yang Feng's thoughts exploded with shock and confusion. His double pupils, which could easily detect the flow of spiritual energy in even the weakest of cultivators, showed nothing—an empty void where qi should have been. How could this be? He expected a figure of such stature to at least have some cultivation, but this man was as ordinary as a passerby in the mortal realm.
Yang Feng's mind reeled as he tried to process what he was seeing. How could this man have gained such respect? He began to look at the situation more critically. The counselor's flying horse—it was an impressive beast, yes, but that did not mean its rider had spiritual power. Could it be that this counselor had simply borrowed the power of his mount? A trick? A deception to fool the villagers into believing he was someone powerful?
Yang Feng's gaze shifted from the counselor to the **village elder**, the old man who had practically begged for one last test before the counselor departed. He peered deeper into the elder's aura, and what he found left him even more perplexed. The elder was completely normal. A regular man, devoid of qi, no trace of spiritual cultivation anywhere in his body.
The realization sent shockwaves through Yang Feng's mind. The village elder, the leader of this entire community, was powerless—nothing more than a regular mortal. In the upper realms where Yang Feng had once lived, such a thing was unthinkable. Even the most ordinary peasants, those who didn't actively cultivate, had some resonance with qi simply by being surrounded by it. Cultivation was as natural as breathing in the higher realms, and even if someone chose not to train, they still carried some latent spiritual energy within them.
But here? Here, in this village? These people had nothing.
Yang Feng's gaze darted back to the villagers below him, the ones who were still throwing him into the air, their faces flushed with joy and triumph. He activated his double pupils again, scanning the crowd more closely. His heart sank deeper with each passing moment. None of them—not a single one—had any trace of qi within their bodies. They were completely ordinary, mortal beings. Even the children who had been tested earlier had no spiritual energy within them. It was as though they were born in a world where cultivation simply didn't exist.
"Just... where the hell am I?" Yang Feng whispered to himself, his thoughts spiraling into despair. He had been reborn into a world so vastly different from the upper realms that it was almost laughable. In the **Azure Domain**, where Yang Feng had once lived, even the weakest of people were born with some connection to qi. It was the essence of life, the force that flowed through every living being. But here, in this unknown village in the lower realms, it was as if qi was a distant, unreachable concept—something they could only dream of, but never touch.
Yang Feng's mind began to race with possibilities. Was this village part of some remote, forgotten corner of the upper realms, where cultivation had become a lost art? Or was this an entirely different world altogether, one where qi energy was so scarce that even the most basic levels of cultivation were beyond reach?
His heart clenched at the thought. If this place was truly devoid of qi, then his journey to regain his power would be infinitely more difficult than he had imagined. Cultivating in a world with so little spiritual energy would be like trying to light a fire in a desert—nearly impossible without the right resources or knowledge.
And yet, the villagers celebrated as though their dreams had come true. They tossed him higher and higher into the air, their faces alight with hope and excitement. But to Yang Feng, it was all a cruel joke. These people didn't even understand what true power was. They had spent decades hoping for something they couldn't even comprehend, and now they pinned all their hopes on him—a boy who had once been a prince in the upper realms but was now struggling to make sense of his own rebirth.
As he was thrown into the air one last time, Yang Feng looked up at the sky, his thoughts turning inward. The words of his past life echoed in his mind—words spoken by his old enemies, his friends, and even his mentors. **"Power is everything."** That had been the core belief of his existence in the upper realms. Without power, you were nothing. Without power, you were prey to the whims of fate.
Now, looking down at these villagers, who had no understanding of the world beyond their tiny lives, Yang Feng realized how different things were here. They had no concept of power—no understanding of what it truly meant to control one's destiny.
As he landed on the ground, the villagers surrounded him, their cheers ringing in his ears. But Yang Feng's mind was elsewhere. His eyes, still glowing with the power of his double pupils, saw the world for what it truly was. A barren, desolate place where spiritual energy was scarce and hope was even scarcer.
Yang feng was barely aware of the surroundings. His thoughts were consumed by the bitter truth that had unfolded before his eyes. **This world was nothing like the one he had known.**
And as the villagers continued to cheer his name, Yang Feng could only think of one thing: "How would he ever escape this place?"