A sharp cry pierced through the air.
A baby's wail echoed within a grand hall, its walls adorned with ancient symbols of power. Wu Tian gasped for breath, his tiny body overwhelmed by a sudden flood of unfamiliar sensations. His vision was blurry, but he could make out towering figures surrounding him, their voices deep and authoritative.
"A disgrace to our bloodline."
"A child born without a single trace of qi?"
The disappointment in their voices was palpable. Memories surged—he was no longer in his world. He had died, yet he lived again.
He had been reborn.
But fate was cruel once more. He was born into a mighty cultivation family, yet he was… crippled. He could feel it—his body was devoid of energy, incapable of even sensing qi. In this world, strength dictated worth. Without cultivation, he was nothing.
His father's voice cut through the whispers. "There is no place in our family for a cripple. Send him away."
At only two years old, Wu Tian was taken from the grand halls of his birth and left in a decaying orphanage within a forsaken village. The caretakers barely spared him a glance, and the other children scorned him. He was weak, worthless in their eyes.
But as Wu Tian sat by the river one evening, staring at his reflection in the water, he swore to himself—he would not accept this fate. He would climb from the depths of despair and reach the heavens themselves.
And fate, it seemed, had been waiting for his resolve. For in that very river, half-buried beneath the stones, a faint golden light shimmered—a stone that would change everything.