Xian Yu's heart ached as he looked around the wreckage of what had once been the Whispering Shadows Sect. The sounds of battle had faded, replaced by eerie silence. His comrades, his friends—his family—were all gone. The Azure Flame Sect had wiped them out with brutal efficiency, and their flames still smoldered in the distance. His mind raced, thoughts of vengeance consuming him.
In the chaos, Xian Yu had barely managed to escape with his life, thanks to his father's sacrifice. His father, the sect leader, had bought him precious time to flee, knowing that the end had come. Now, alone and injured, Xian Yu stumbled through the wilderness, driven only by a singular desire: revenge.
As Xian Yu flees through the dense forest, exhausted and covered in sweat, he stumbles upon what appears to be an ancient, hidden cave. The cave entrance is concealed behind thick vines and wild foliage. While seeking shelter from the relentless pursuit of the Azure Flame Sect, Xian Yu's gaze catches a faint glimmer from the entrance. A strange force seems to draw him in, and he feels a strange pull towards the dark abyss inside.
He steps forward cautiously, pushing aside the vines. The moment his foot touches the ground within, the entrance suddenly collapses behind him. The cave is eerily quiet, and the atmosphere is thick with an ancient, powerful aura. Unknowingly, Xian Yu has triggered a spiritual trap, activating mechanism. The walls of the cave rumble as a stone door slides open before him, revealing a dimly lit chamber. Inside, a pedestal stands, and upon it are three ancient books, a gleaming sword, and a small vial containing a mysterious pill.
His vision blurred with pain, and he instinctively reached for the pill, believing it to be a healing medicine, Without hesitation, he swallowed it, hoping it would alleviate the pain.
Moments later, he collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his mind slipping into unconsciousness, unaware of the true nature of the pill he had consumed.
When Xian Yu awoke, he felt an overwhelming sense of clarity. His body, once battered and broken, now felt stronger than ever. His dantian, the core of his inner strength, was expanding, and a surge of energy flooded his body. It was as if the pill had not only healed his injuries but transformed him entirely. He felt... invincible.
His senses were sharper, his movements more fluid. The pain that had plagued him earlier was gone, replaced by a vitality he had never known. His mind, once clouded by grief and confusion, now felt clear. He could sense the power coursing through him as if he had tapped into something far beyond his previous limits.
He sat up quickly, his eyes scanning the cave. The perfect-grade sword lay beside him, its blade gleaming as though it recognized his newfound strength. His hands trembled as he picked it up, feeling an inexplicable connection to the weapon. Such swords were rare, only found in the vaults of the greatest sects or empires. Yet here it was, in the very cave where he had found refuge. He marveled at its craftsmanship and power.
Beside the sword were three books, their ancient covers worn with age but radiating an undeniable energy. His heart raced as he reached for the first book. It was titled "Vermillion Blood Method"—a cultivation technique. His hands shook as he opened it, feeling the immense power emanating from the pages. He could sense that this was no ordinary manual—it was something far beyond what he had ever imagined.
The second book was a movement technique, "Crimson Gale Steps", and the third, a sword technique called "Bloodstrike Blade". He could feel the weight of these manuals, knowing instinctively that they were not techniques for ordinary martial artists. No, these were techniques meant for those who stood at the pinnacle of martial arts.
He had heard stories of Martial Kings, the supposed pinnacle of martial power, and had always believed that Supreme Grandmasters were the highest level of achievement. But now, with these books before him, he realized how little he truly knew. These were techniques of a level he could barely comprehend.
As he absorbed the information from the Vermillion Blood Method, his inner energy flowed with perfect harmony. His senses heightened, and his understanding of the world around him became more profound. It was as though the technique was unlocking the hidden potential within him, something that he had never even known existed.
For hours, he meditated, his body and mind attuned to the flow of energy. When he finally opened his eyes, he was stunned. The techniques he had discovered were unlike anything he had ever encountered. They were powerful beyond measure.
Xian Yu knew that this inheritance, this legacy, could only have belonged to someone of immeasurable power. At first, he believed the techniques must have belonged to a Supreme Grandmaster, someone whose power had reached the very pinnacle of martial arts. He had heard tales of such figures, and his father had always spoken of Martial Kings, people who stood above even Supreme Grandmasters.