The village of Fengyuan, hidden deep within a mountain range that seemed to have no end, was no more than a forgotten dot on the map. Its existence was so insignificant that not even the great storms, which ravaged the surrounding lands, seemed to care about it. The village consisted of a handful of weathered wooden houses, their thatched roofs crumbling with the passage of time. The dense and dark vegetation of the mountains surrounding it seemed to swallow the village whole, making it even more isolated. Its inhabitants, simple and reserved, lived off rice cultivation and fishing in the clear waters that cut through the land.
But that night, something was different. The wind, which usually blew gently through the mountains, was now restless, and the silence hanging in the air was thick, almost tangible. There were no sounds of nocturnal birds, no whispers of nature. Just emptiness.
Wei Long, an 18-year-old young man, sat at the door of his father's forge, Wei Shan. His eyes were fixed on the starry sky, as if searching for something beyond what his eyes could see. He was thin, with messy black hair always falling over his face. There was something in his eyes, a flame that burned inside him and made him feel out of place among the other villagers. His gaze carried a constant restlessness, a feeling that he was meant for something more than living in the small village of Fengyuan.
He leaned against the wooden door, feeling the cool breeze of the night, and sighed. The sound of the forge could still be heard from inside the house, but he couldn't concentrate on his father's work. There was something inside him, an emptiness that the stories his mother had told him couldn't fill.
Before she passed away, his mother had told him many stories about legendary heroes – cultivators who flew through the skies and shaped the world with their powers. She spoke of a time when the sky had no limits, and men could reach anything with strength and determination. These stories sparked a fire in his heart, and he felt, deep down, that his destiny was beyond the mountains surrounding the village. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand how he could reach that destiny.
"Wei Long!" His father's deep voice called him back to reality. It was Wei Shan, the village blacksmith. His hands, calloused from years of working with metal, were always firm and steady, but his heart was kind. "Still daydreaming? Come help me with this blade."
Wei Long gave one last glance at the stars before getting up and entering the forge. He loved his father more than anything, but the work in the village felt like a prison. Every hammer strike his father made on the metal resonated like a sentence, as if Wei Long's future was trapped in those glowing metals.
While working alongside his father, he felt the heat of the iron being shaped, but his heart remained distant. He didn't want to forge blades — he wanted to forge his own path, to be someone who wasn't confined by the dark surroundings of Fengyuan.
Suddenly, the sound of horses echoed from a distance. The gallop of hooves cut through the silence of the night, and Wei Shan frowned, wiping sweat from his hands on a dirty cloth.
"Visitors? At this hour?" he muttered.
Wei Long straightened up, his instincts alerting him to something out of the ordinary. The sound of the horses grew louder, and soon the figure of men on horseback appeared in the darkness. The leader, a burly man with a scar across his face, dismounted with a cruel smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark intensity.
"Old blacksmith," the man said with a malicious laugh, "this village now belongs to us. Hand over whatever you have of value, and perhaps we'll spare your lives."
Wei Long felt his blood boil. He tightened the unfinished blade in his hand, but before he could make a move, his father grabbed his arm firmly.
"No, Long. You can't face them," Wei Shan said, his voice grave and full of concern.
The young man fought against the urge to act, but something inside him rebelled. He wanted to be more than the blacksmith's son. He wanted to protect the village, he wanted to fight, but his father's words still echoed in his mind.
Before he could respond, the sound of crying reached his ears. A child, probably no older than seven or eight, was in the street, sobbing in fear. The bandits, with their cold eyes like blades, laughed as they approached the child, threatening her with cruel smiles.
Wei Long didn't think. He acted. In one swift movement, he ran toward the child, without considering the consequences. He didn't know what he would do, but something inside him drove him forward. He grabbed an unfinished sword from his forge's bench and rushed to intercept the attack.
But, as he approached, something unexpected happened. Time seemed to slow down. Every second stretched, as if the world was about to unravel around him.
And then, a figure emerged from the shadows, as if part of the night itself. The figure's movement was so fast that Wei Long barely had time to process it. The bandit threatening the child was knocked down instantly, falling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings. The man who had appeared before Wei Long was old, hooded, and his eyes glowed with a supernatural intensity, as if they contained all the wisdom and power of the universe.
The old man looked at Wei Long, and his eyes shone with a kind of recognition that sent a chill down the young man's spine.
"You have courage, boy" the old man said, his voice deep and full of authority. "But courage without power is useless."
Wei Long stood frozen for a moment, absorbing the words that struck him like a direct blow to the heart. He looked at the old man, trying to understand what was happening. Before he could question him, the man raised his hand, and a strange energy began to emanate from his body, lighting up the night with a soft but threatening glow.
"I can give you power, young one. But the path you choose won't be easy." The old man spoke with a tone that resonated like both a promise and a threat at once.
Wei Long felt something stir inside him, something that had been dormant, like a flame about to be ignited. He looked at the old man, his eyes now filled with determination.
"What must I do?" Wei Long asked, his voice firm, though still hesitant.
The old man smiled beneath his hood, his eyes gleaming with ancient wisdom.
"The first step is to believe that you have a destiny. The second is to choose which path to follow."
Wei Long didn't know what this meant, but he felt that this encounter would change his life forever. He looked at the bandits, who were still getting up, and without a word, he advanced toward them, determined to no longer be a mere observer. It was time to act.