The dim morning light filtered through the cracks in the shack's walls, casting thin rays across the dirt-covered floor. Shen Tian sat motionless, his frail body barely clothed in rags that did little to stave off the biting cold. The pain of starvation gnawed at his stomach, but his mind remained eerily calm.
He had lived a thousand lives. Kings, beggars, saints, demons—he had been them all. But never had he been so weak.
His body was a shell, a remnant of what he once was. The Dao of Immortality had been stripped from the heavens, and with it, all paths to eternal life. What remained were the Nine Forbidden Daos, each powerful but cursed. If he wished to rise again, he would have no choice but to tread a path that risked his very existence.
But first, he needed to survive.
Shen Tian pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling under the effort. He staggered to the door of the shack and pushed it open, stepping into a world of filth and misery.
The slums of Broken Sky City stretched endlessly. Crumbling buildings, ragged beggars, and starving children littered the streets. Foul water pooled in the alleys, carrying disease and despair. The strong preyed on the weak, and the weak had no place in this world.
A group of orphan children huddled near a pile of rotting food, fighting over scraps. A burly man, dressed in ragged armor, watched with an amused sneer, waiting for the winner so he could take it for himself.
Shen Tian's lips curled into a cold smile.
So this is where fate has thrown me? Fitting.
If he had been reborn in a noble family or a sect, his enemies might have discovered him too soon. Here, among the forsaken, he had time to regain his strength.
But first, he needed food.
Shen Tian's legs barely supported him as he walked toward a makeshift market street. Rotten vegetables and dried meat were laid out on filthy cloths, their sellers eyeing passersby with suspicion. Most people in the slums had nothing to trade except their lives.
A hunched old woman sat behind a stall, selling moldy bread. Her eyes darted left and right, wary of thieves.
If I were my past self, I would simply suppress her with a thought. But now…
He clenched his fists. He would need to rely on instincts honed over lifetimes.
A ragged boy darted past him, snatching a piece of fruit from another stall. The vendor roared in anger, chasing the thief, but the boy disappeared into the alleys.
Shen Tian's eyes narrowed. Quick hands. Good footwork. I see…
He stepped forward, his movements light, his presence nearly nonexistent. He reached out casually, his fingers brushing the hard surface of the bread—
"Oi! Thief!"
The old woman's bony hand lashed out with surprising speed, clawing at his wrist. Shen Tian twisted, his body moving on reflex, barely avoiding her grip.
A sharp pain bloomed in his stomach.
A rough hand had grabbed him from behind and shoved him to the ground. He coughed, dirt and grime filling his mouth.
The burly man from earlier loomed over him, his face twisted in amusement.
"Trying to steal, eh? Heh, you're new here, cripple. Didn't anyone tell you? Everything in these slums belongs to me—Zhao Kun."
Shen Tian's body ached, his bones fragile, but his mind was utterly calm. The bully was strong, but untrained—the type who ruled through intimidation, not skill.
Zhao Kun grinned, raising his foot to stomp on him.
A mistake.
Shen Tian twisted his body at the last moment. Zhao Kun's foot missed its mark, slamming into the dirt instead. The momentary imbalance was all Shen Tian needed. He struck—his frail hands grasping Zhao Kun's ankle and pulling with precise force.
Zhao Kun, unprepared, stumbled forward. Shen Tian moved like a serpent, twisting his weak frame beneath his enemy. He struck the back of Zhao Kun's knee—an attack with no strength, but perfect accuracy.
The larger man collapsed.
A stunned silence followed. The orphans and beggars who had watched in amusement were now wide-eyed. No one had ever seen Zhao Kun fall.
But Shen Tian knew—this was nothing. In his past life, he had fought celestial titans and divine beasts. If he weren't crippled, this man wouldn't even deserve a glance.
Zhao Kun snarled, his pride wounded. "You little—"
He lunged, his fists swinging wildly.
Fool.
Shen Tian sidestepped, barely avoiding the attack. His weak body screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain. He used Zhao Kun's own momentum against him, shifting his balance at the last moment.
Zhao Kun crashed into a stack of crates, cursing as wood splintered around him.
The crowd gasped.
Shen Tian exhaled slowly. His body was weak, but his instincts were not. He had won through skill alone.
Zhao Kun, humiliated, glared at him with undisguised hatred. "You… you're dead, cripple! Just wait!" He scrambled up and fled, disappearing into the alleys.
The old woman, who had nearly caught him earlier, cackled. "Heh! Not bad, brat. Didn't expect you to have such tricks." She tossed the moldy bread toward him. "Here. Consider it payment for the entertainment."
Shen Tian caught it, nodding in thanks.
He turned away, biting into the stale food without hesitation. It tasted like dirt, but he didn't care.
Food is energy. Energy is survival.
Today, he had taken his first step.
As Shen Tian walked back to his shack, he felt the faint pulse of something deep within him—the Eternal Dao Seed. Though weak, it was still there.
The heavens had stolen his path to immortality.
But he had lived a thousand lives. He had walked through hell and back.
If the heavens refuse to let me cultivate…
His grip tightened around the last piece of bread.
Then I will steal from the heavens themselves.