The New York City skyline fractured into a kaleidoscope of red and blue, the screech of tires a final, agonizing note. Then, blackness. Not the peaceful kind, but a suffocating void that gave way to the scent of damp earth and the rustle of unseen leaves. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the filtered sunlight piercing through a dense canopy. He was lying on soft moss, not asphalt. He was… different. His skin was paler, his ears slightly pointed.Distant explosions echoed through the trees, followed by the clang of metal on metal. A morbid curiosity, stronger than his disorientation, pulled him towards the sound. He pushed himself up, his limbs feeling strangely light and agile. He stumbled through the undergrowth, the sounds of battle growing louder.He emerged at the edge of a clearing, a scene of brutal carnage unfolding before him. Cultivators, he instinctively knew, were locked in a deadly dance, energy crackling around their weapons. One man's blade shimmered with emerald light, cleaving another in two. A woman with eyes as cold as winter ice unleashed a torrent of fire, incinerating a group of attackers. He scrambled for cover behind the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, his heart hammering against his ribs. When the fighting subsided, two figures remained standing amidst the fallen. The woman, her white robes stained with blood, surveyed the scene with a chilling detachment. The man beside her grinned, a cruel twist to his lips. "Looks like one's still alive."He emerged, trembling, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I was just passing by." He fell to his knees, begging for mercy. "Please, I mean you no harm. If… if you would allow me, I would gladly join your sect."The man scoffed, a wave of energy washing over John. He felt a strange tingling sensation, a probing force that seemed to map the very essence of his being. "Hmph," the man sneered. "A low-tier Wood spiritual root. Utter trash."Before John could even process the words, the woman's hand blurred. A searing pain ripped through his left wrist, and he screamed as his hand fell to the ground. Then, another agonizing blow, and his right leg gave way. He collapsed, his vision blurring with tears and blood. They left him there, bleeding, broken, on the brink of death.

As darkness threatened to consume him, fragmented memories surfaced. This world was governed by the elements: Iron, Wood, Fire, Water, Earth, and Lightning. Spiritual roots, the conduits of elemental power, determined one's place in the hierarchy. High-tier roots were revered, middle-tier tolerated, and low-tier… like his Wood root… were considered worthless.Distant explosions echoed through the trees, followed by the clang of metal on metal. A morbid curiosity, stronger than his disorientation, pulled him towards the sound. He pushed himself up, his limbs feeling strangely light and agile. He stumbled through the undergrowth, the sounds of battle growing louder.Then, a subtle warmth spread through his ravaged limbs. A tingling sensation, like a thousand tiny needles, as flesh began to knit back together, bone rejoined bone. His Wood root, the very thing they had scorned, was healing him, refusing to let him die. A burning rage ignited within him, hotter than any fire he had ever known. He would have his revenge