The creaking of the iron-wheeled carriage rattled through the quiet forest. Feng Xiao sat slumped in the corner of the prisoner's cart, his hands shackled with heavy spiritual chains. The sigils etched into the iron links glowed faintly, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, a constant reminder of his shattered cultivation base. Every bump in the road sent jolts of pain up his spine, but he remained silent, staring blankly at the swaying bars that surrounded him.
He had lost everything. His pride, his sect, and the future he had worked so hard to build. Cast aside like garbage.
The enforcers sitting at the front of the cart exchanged quiet murmurs, their voices barely audible over the groaning wheels. Occasionally, one of them glanced back at him with an expression of disdain or pity. Feng Xiao ignored them. What was the point? Pleading for mercy had gotten him nothing. Trying to prove his innocence had only made them laugh.
The Sect Master's final verdict rang in his ears like a curse: The Valley of Ordures.
Feng Xiao clenched his fists, feeling the chains tighten around his wrists. Even now, he could barely believe it. They had sentenced him to exile in the one place no cultivator dared to go. The Valley wasn't just a punishment—it was a death sentence. A spiritual graveyard filled with discarded artifacts, cursed energy, and failed techniques that had been abandoned over centuries. Rumors painted it as a wasteland of corruption and despair, where even the air could rot a cultivator's core.
No one ever returned from the Valley.
The carriage jolted violently, throwing Feng Xiao against the side of the bars. He grunted in pain, clutching his ribs as the enforcers cursed at the mules pulling the cart. "Damn thing!" one of them shouted, cracking the reins. The beasts brayed in protest, their hooves sinking into the muddy road as they struggled to pull the cart free.
"Lazy animals," the second enforcer muttered. He hopped down from the seat, his boots splashing into the muck. With a grunt, he heaved against the cart's wheel, trying to force it out of the rut.
Feng Xiao shifted slightly, leaning his head against the cold metal bars. Beyond the treetops, he could see the faint outline of distant mountains, their jagged peaks glowing dimly under the overcast sky. Somewhere beyond those mountains lay the Valley.
The enforcers argued as they pushed the cart free, their voices a dull hum in the background. Feng Xiao barely registered them. His mind was elsewhere—back in the grand hall of the Heavenly Dawn Sect, kneeling before the Sect Master's dais. Cheng Wu's mocking grin flashed in his memory, followed by Elder Cheng's cold indifference.
Why?
That single question burned in his chest, hotter than any wound. Why had they done this to him? What had he done to deserve this? His only crime was trusting them—believing that the sect was a place of honor, where merit and loyalty were rewarded.
Feng Xiao exhaled sharply, his breath fogging against the iron bars. The truth was simple: they had never cared about him. He was just another tool to be used and discarded when convenient. And now they had thrown him away.
The cart lurched forward again as the mules resumed their slow, plodding pace. Feng Xiao sat in silence, watching the forest blur past him. The trees grew darker, their twisted branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers. The air grew colder, heavier, as though the very atmosphere resented their presence.
"We're almost there," one of the enforcers muttered, his voice tinged with unease. "I can feel it."
"Good," the other replied. "Let's drop the bastard and get the hell out of here. I don't want to spend a second longer in this cursed place."
Feng Xiao's lips twitched into a bitter smile. Even the enforcers were afraid of the Valley. And they were the ones throwing him into it.
The road finally gave way to a rocky path, and the trees began to thin. As the cart rounded a bend, Feng Xiao caught his first glimpse of the Valley of Ordures.
His breath hitched.
It was a vast, sprawling wasteland, stretching as far as the eye could see. The ground was uneven, littered with jagged shards of metal, broken tools, and shattered artifacts that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Rivers of black sludge snaked through the terrain, their surfaces bubbling with foul-smelling vapor. The air was thick with a haze of corrupted energy, making it difficult to breathe.
In the distance, Feng Xiao could see the crumbling ruins of ancient structures—broken towers, collapsed walls, and shattered statues, all half-buried in the earth. They stood like the skeletons of forgotten dreams, remnants of sects and civilizations that had long since been abandoned.
A low hum filled the air, a constant, droning vibration that seemed to emanate from the ground itself. It wasn't just noise—it was a presence. A malignant force that seemed to seep into Feng Xiao's bones, whispering promises of despair.
"Move it!" one of the enforcers barked, snapping Feng Xiao out of his daze. The cart came to a halt, and the enforcers hauled him out roughly, shoving him onto the rocky ground. He stumbled, falling to his knees. The sharp edges of broken metal bit into his skin, drawing blood, but he barely noticed. His eyes were fixed on the wasteland before him.
"This is where you die, Trash Disciple," one of the enforcers sneered, kicking him in the side. Feng Xiao grunted, curling into himself as pain shot through his ribs.
"Don't bother with him," the other said. "He'll be dead in a week. Either the spirits will get him, or the Valley itself will chew him up."
They removed his chains, tossing them back into the cart before climbing aboard. The mules brayed as the enforcers cracked the reins, eager to leave the cursed place behind. Within moments, the cart was gone, disappearing into the haze.
Feng Xiao sat motionless, his hands pressed against the jagged ground. Blood dripped from his fingers, mixing with the black sludge beneath him. The cold seeped into his bones, but he didn't move. He couldn't.
This was it. This was the end.
For a long moment, he considered just lying there, letting the Valley take him. What was the point of fighting? He had no cultivation, no allies, no future. All he had was the shattered remains of his pride, and even that was slipping away.
But as the wind howled through the ruins, carrying with it the faint sound of whispers, something inside him stirred. A faint ember of defiance, buried beneath the weight of despair. They had called him trash. They had thrown him away like garbage.
But garbage could be repurposed. Rebuilt. Refined.
Feng Xiao forced himself to his feet, his legs trembling under the effort. The world around him seemed to sway, the haze of corrupted energy pressing against him like a living thing. But he didn't collapse. Not yet.
He took a shaky step forward, then another, his eyes scanning the wasteland. The whispers grew louder, a faint, melodic hum that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wasn't his imagination. Something was calling to him.
Driven by a mix of desperation and curiosity, Feng Xiao stumbled toward the source of the sound. He pushed through jagged piles of scrap metal, his hands bleeding as he climbed over broken shards of glass and twisted wires. The hum grew louder, more insistent, guiding him like a beacon.
Finally, he reached a small clearing, surrounded by the remnants of a collapsed structure. In the center of the clearing, half-buried in the earth, was a faintly glowing object.
Feng Xiao's breath caught. It was a pearl. A perfectly round, iridescent pearl, no larger than a coin. Its surface shimmered with an otherworldly light, shifting between hues of silver, blue, and green. Even in the dim light of the Valley, it seemed to shine with a brilliance all its own.
The whispers grew louder as he approached, filling his mind with fragments of words he couldn't quite understand. His hand trembled as he reached out to touch it, his fingers brushing against its smooth surface.
The moment he made contact, a surge of energy shot through his body, and the world around him vanished in a blinding flash of light.