The morning sun bathed the Yan Clan's lush garden in warm light, its vibrant flowers swaying gently in the breeze. Yan Zi sat quietly on a stone bench under a towering plum tree, his eyes fixed on the horizon, though his thoughts were far away. His mind replayed the events of the previous day: Yan Ling's rejection, the clan leader's announcement, and the realization of his own powerlessness. The air around him seemed heavy, mirroring his sinking heart.
As Yan Zi wrestled with his thoughts, a group of young disciples entered the garden, their laughter breaking his solitude. Among them was Yan Ming, a tall, arrogant youth with sharp features and an unmistakable smirk. Yan Ming, a 4-star cultivator in the Elementary Realm, had always looked down on Yan Zi. Today, his disdain was palpable as he caught sight of him sitting alone.
With deliberate steps, Yan Ming approached, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Hey, loser," Yan Ming sneered, crossing his arms as he loomed over Yan Zi. "What are you doing here, sitting like some sage? Shouldn't you be doing something useful, like polishing someone's shoes? Oh, wait—being a trash, that's about all you're good for. Why not just admit it and become my subordinate? At least then, you'd have some purpose in life."
Behind him, the other disciples burst into laughter, their jeering voices echoing in the garden. Yan Zi, however, remained silent, his eyes still fixed on the distance as if Yan Ming's taunts were nothing more than a passing breeze.
Yan Ming's smirk faltered for a moment, and his tone grew sharper. "What's the matter, trash? Too scared to speak up? Or are you pretending you can't hear me? You know, Yan Zi, you're only still here because of your father. If it weren't for his position as an elder, you'd have been thrown out ages ago—kicked out of the clan like the disgrace you are. Or maybe made to serve as a servant, cleaning up after the real cultivators."
This time, the words stung. Yan Zi's shoulders stiffened, but he refused to give Yan Ming the satisfaction of a reaction. He rose to his feet slowly, brushing past Yan Ming without a word. His calmness only infuriated Yan Ming further.
"Oh? So now you're just going to walk away?" Yan Ming called out, his voice louder now. "What's wrong, Yan Zi? Afraid to admit the truth? Even your parents must be ashamed to have a son like you. Don't they wish they'd never brought a trash like you into this world?"
Yan Zi froze in his tracks. Those words pierced through him like a dagger. His breath quickened, and his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The blood roared in his ears, drowning out the sound of laughter behind him. He turned slowly, his piercing blue eyes now blazing with fury.
"What did you just say?" Yan Zi growled, his voice low and trembling with anger.
Yan Ming's smirk widened, sensing he had struck a nerve. "You heard me. Even your parents must feel cursed to have a son who can't even cultivate. It must be humiliating for Elder Yan Hong to have someone like you as his legacy."
That was it. Yan Zi couldn't hold back anymore. With a shout of rage, he charged at Yan Ming, his fist swinging with all the strength his body could muster.
"Yan Ming!" he roared, his anger exploding like a storm.
Yan Ming didn't flinch. Instead, his smirk grew more sinister. This was exactly what he wanted. As Yan Zi's fist neared him, Yan Ming raised his hand, a faint golden glow of qi forming around his knuckles.
"Fool," Yan Ming muttered, his tone dripping with contempt. With a swift and calculated strike, Yan Ming's qi-infused punch collided with Yan Zi's chest.
The impact was devastating. Yan Zi was sent hurtling backward, his body crashing into the stone wall behind him. The force cracked the stone, and a dull, searing pain spread through his back. He coughed violently, a faint taste of blood filling his mouth as he crumpled to the ground in a heap.
"Ha! Did you really think you could touch me, trash?" Yan Ming said, dusting off his hands as the other disciples howled with laughter. "You don't belong here, Yan Zi. You never have. Know your place."
Lying on the ground, Yan Zi's vision blurred as pain wracked his body. His ears buzzed, drowning out the cruel laughter around him. For a moment, he could see nothing but the starry sky above, so far out of reach. The world seemed to grow quieter as he struggled to move, his breath shallow and ragged.
But even in that moment of despair, something stirred deep within him. It wasn't just pain or humiliation. It was a flicker of defiance, a stubborn ember refusing to be extinguished.
"Is this it?" he thought to himself, his fists trembling as he pressed them against the cold ground. "Is this all I'll ever be?"
The laughter continued, but Yan Zi wasn't listening anymore. As the stars above seemed to glimmer brighter, a single thought echoed in his mind:
"This is far from over."
Blood trickled from the corner of Yan Zi's lips as he struggled to stand. The jeers and laughter of the disciples echoed in his ears, each word like a sharp blade cutting deeper into his pride. He pressed his trembling hands against the ground, his body aching from the blow. Slowly, he pushed himself up, his legs unsteady but unyielding.
The laughter grew louder as he stood upright, but Yan Zi didn't meet their eyes. Instead, his piercing blue gaze stared blankly ahead, his face stoic, masking the storm raging within. He took a shaky step forward, and then another, ignoring the mocking voices around him.
"Look at him! Still trying to act tough," one of the disciples jeered, triggering more laughter.
Yan Ming crossed his arms, a smug grin on his face. "Pathetic. Run along now, trash. That's all you're good at."
Yan Zi didn't respond. Step by step, he walked away from the crowd, his head held low, his heart heavy with pain and frustration. The disciples watched him leave, some shaking their heads in disdain, others too busy laughing to notice the flicker of defiance hidden beneath his defeated expression.
Once out of sight, Yan Zi disappeared into the winding paths of the Yan Clan's compound, his mind clouded with conflicting emotions. The faint warmth of the afternoon sun barely touched him as he dragged his weary body back to his small home.
---
Outside his house, his mother sat quietly on a wooden bench under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Her soft features and kind eyes were framed by strands of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in the breeze. She looked up and immediately noticed Yan Zi's hunched figure walking toward her. The blood at the corner of his lips and the dull sadness in his eyes sent a pang through her heart.
"Zi'er!" she called, rising quickly from the bench and rushing to him. Her hands gently cupped his face, her eyes scanning him for injuries. "What happened? Why are you like this again? Did someone hurt you?"
Yan Zi lowered his gaze, unable to meet her worried eyes. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Mother... was I born like this? From the very beginning, was I meant to be... a failure? A burden to you and Father? What did I do wrong to deserve this? To be punished like this?"
His words were heavy with anguish, and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the entire world rested on them. His mother's hands froze, her expression momentarily faltering. A shadow passed over her gentle features as if his question had struck a hidden wound deep within her.
For a long moment, she was silent. Yan Zi, noticing the shift in her expression, felt his heart sink further. "She knows something," he thought, his mind racing. "There's something she's not telling me..."
Then, she let out a quiet sigh, her hands trembling slightly before she cupped his face again. "Zi'er, listen to me," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You are not a burden to us. Never think that. You are our son, and we are proud of you—not because of what you can or cannot do, but because of who you are."
Her voice softened even more as she continued. "You have the kindest heart, Zi'er. You work harder than anyone I know, and you treat everyone with respect and compassion, even when they don't deserve it. That is more valuable than any cultivation talent. Do you understand?"
Yan Zi's lips parted as if he wanted to respond, but no words came. His mother's words were warm and comforting, yet they didn't erase the ache in his heart. His head lowered again, the same sadness etched onto his face.
His mother watched him carefully, her brows furrowing as she searched for something to say, something to pull him from this abyss of self-doubt. Suddenly, her face lit up with an idea.
"Zi'er," she said, a spark of excitement in her tone. "Why not try something different? Why not... practice alchemy?"
"Alchemy?" Yan Zi repeated, lifting his head slightly. His voice carried a faint hint of curiosity, breaking through the weight of his despair.
"Yes, alchemy!" his mother said with a smile, stepping back to give him space. Her eyes shone with hope. "It's the art of refining pills and elixirs. Alchemists are highly respected and admired. With dedication and hard work, you could become one of them."
Yan Zi's brow furrowed in thought. "I've heard of alchemy before," he said slowly, his voice tinged with intrigue. "People who practice it create pills that can heal injuries, enhance cultivation, and even change someone's fate... Is that what you mean?"
His mother nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! Alchemists are not bound by their cultivation levels. It's a path that requires patience, intelligence, and determination—all qualities you possess, Zi'er. There are even competitions for alchemists, where their skills are tested and their names rise to fame."
For the first time in what felt like forever, a flicker of excitement danced in Yan Zi's eyes. "Competitions..." he murmured, his thoughts racing. "So even someone like me—someone who can't cultivate—could still make a name for himself through alchemy?"
His mother's smile widened as she placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Yes, my son. You don't need to prove yourself by following the same path as everyone else. There is more than one way to achieve greatness."
Yan Zi's expression softened, the sadness in his eyes beginning to give way to determination. Though his body ached and his heart was still heavy, the idea of pursuing a new path sparked something within him—something that had been dormant for a long time.
"Alchemy..." he whispered to himself, his mind already imagining the possibilities.
Above them, the cherry blossom petals fluttered in the breeze, some falling gently to the ground. The starry night that followed seemed to shimmer with renewed hope, as if the heavens themselves were watching over Yan Zi, guiding him toward a destiny he had yet to discover.
As Yan Zi's mother continued, her voice softened with a tone of admiration, "On the Primordial Heaven Continent, many have risen to great fame through their mastery of alchemy. The most renowned alchemists are revered, sought after by powerful clans and sects, and their names are etched into history. It is an art that transcends mere cultivation and touches the essence of creation itself."
Yan Zi's eyes lit up with curiosity as her words sparked a flame of hope within him. He took a step closer to her and asked eagerly, "Mother, how can I start? I have no materials, no teacher, and no understanding of how alchemy is done. I've only heard the word but never seen it in practice."
His mother's expression softened, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Come with me," she said, her voice carrying a tinge of excitement.
---
Yan Zi followed her through their modest home, trailing behind as they stepped into the backyard. At the far end stood an old, worn-down room, its wooden frame weathered by time. She pushed the creaking door open, and the scent of aged wood and dust wafted out.
"Come here," she beckoned, stepping inside. Yan Zi watched as his mother knelt in a corner, brushing aside cobwebs and debris. From within the shadows, she pulled out an object—a medium-sized cauldron, its dark surface carved with intricate patterns that seemed to pulse faintly under the light.
"This," she said, her voice almost reverent, "is an alchemist's cauldron. It has been in our family for a very long time. Since no one in the clan practices alchemy, your father stored it here, forgotten and unused."
Yan Zi stepped forward, his fingers grazing the cool, smooth surface of the cauldron. The engravings shimmered faintly under his touch, as though alive.
"And this," his mother continued, reaching into the shadows again, "is for you as well."
She handed him an old, leather-bound book. The cover was embossed with strange, arcane symbols that seemed to shift and rearrange when viewed from different angles.
"This book contains the basics of alchemy," she explained. "It details the techniques, methods, and theories you will need to learn. With this book and the cauldron, you may not even need a teacher. Study hard, my son, and I believe you can achieve greatness."
Yan Zi clutched the book and cauldron tightly, his determination clear in his bright blue eyes. "Mother," he said, his voice steady with resolve, "I'll work hard. I'll study everything thoroughly, and I promise I won't let you down!"
His mother's smile widened, but a shadow of sadness flickered across her face. She hesitated, her gaze falling to the ground. "I believe in you, Zi'er," she said softly. But her tone carried a hint of something unspoken—something heavy.
Yan Zi noticed her hesitation and frowned slightly. "Mother? Is something wrong?"
She shook her head quickly, forcing a smile. "No, no. It's nothing. Just... remember to take care of yourself, alright?"
Yan Zi nodded, though he felt a pang of unease at her sudden change in demeanor. Without pressing further, he turned and left, the cauldron in one hand and the book in the other.
---
Yan Zi made his way deep into the forest, where the air grew cooler and the light dimmer beneath the thick canopy of trees. After a long walk, he arrived at an old cave hidden among the rocks. This was a place he often visited when he needed solitude—a refuge away from the noise and judgment of the clan.
The cave was dark and cool, its stone walls damp with moss. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing softly. Despite its exterior appearance, the interior was surprisingly vast, with a high ceiling that seemed to muffle sound, making it the perfect place for his experiments.
Yan Zi placed the cauldron on the ground and sat cross-legged in front of it. Taking a deep breath, he opened the book and began reading. The symbols and instructions were complex, but his sharp mind quickly grasped the fundamentals.
Hours passed as he immersed himself in the text. Eight hours later, he closed the book, his mind swimming with newfound knowledge.
"Alright," he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Let's try this."
He reached into a pouch his mother had given him and pulled out a handful of herbs. Though of low quality, they were enough for his first attempt. Carefully, he placed them into the cauldron.
"So... what now?" he wondered aloud, scratching his head. "Do I light a fire? Or—"
Before he could finish his thought, a faint chuckle echoed through the cave.
"Heh heh... Kid, who told you that alchemy doesn't depend on cultivation?"
Yan Zi froze. His heart raced as he whipped his head around. "Who's there?" he demanded, his voice trembling. "Show yourself!"
Silence.
"I'm the only one here..." he muttered, frowning. "But I'm sure I heard something..."
He waited, straining his ears for any sound, but the voice didn't speak again. Slowly, his tense shoulders relaxed.
"Tch," he clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Am I hearing things now?"
Still, the words lingered in his mind. Alchemy depends on cultivation...
A wave of despair washed over him. If that was true, then what hope did he have? He sighed heavily, sitting back against the cold wall of the cave.
But instead of giving up, Yan Zi forced himself to open the book again. "I may not have cultivation, but I still have my mind," he murmured. "I'll figure it out. Somehow..."
---
Hours turned into days. Yan Zi poured all his focus into studying the book, memorizing every detail, every diagram, and every formula. His meals were sparse, his sleep minimal. Despite his lack of cultivation, he began to understand the delicate balance required in alchemy—the harmony of fire, timing, and ingredients.
Seven days later, Yan Zi emerged from the cave. Though his body was weary, his eyes shone with determination. He hadn't yet succeeded in creating a pill, but he had laid the foundation for his journey.
As he walked back toward the clan, the cauldron strapped securely to his back, he muttered under his breath, "I'll show them... one day, they'll see what this so-called trash can do."
Above him, the sun broke through the forest canopy, casting a golden glow on his path forward.