A chilling wind howled through the remote Qingyun Village, rustling the thatched roofs of wooden huts. The village, nestled in the shadow of the towering Azure Mist Mountains, was home to simple folk—hunters, farmers, and craftsmen. Strength determined one's fate, and those without talent were cast aside.
In a dimly lit hut at the village's edge, a frail boy sat cross-legged on the cold wooden floor. His name was Ron.
At sixteen, Ron should have been preparing to enter a martial sect or train as a warrior. Instead, he was weak—his body fragile, his meridians blocked, and his spirit root incapable of absorbing qi. He was a disgrace to the village, the "trash who couldn't cultivate."
Tonight was the same as every night. He stared at his calloused hands, frustration welling in his chest. No matter how hard he trained, no matter how much he tried to sense qi, he remained powerless.
"Am I truly destined to be nothing?" he muttered, bitterness in his voice.
Outside, the villagers celebrated the annual Moonlight Festival. Laughter, the crackling of bonfires, and the rhythmic beating of drums filled the air. But Ron had long since stopped attending these gatherings. He was nothing more than an outcast.
Then, the heavens trembled.
A golden light split the sky, followed by a deafening roar. The earth quaked beneath Ron's feet as a mysterious black rift tore open above the village.
The festival came to a halt. People screamed, running for shelter as the sky itself seemed to crack. Ron staggered to his feet, his heart pounding.
Then, from within the golden rift, a figure descended.
A man, draped in black robes embroidered with silver runes, floated above the village. His piercing golden eyes radiated authority, and an aura so vast and oppressive spread across the land that even the most powerful elders in the village collapsed to their knees.
The air grew heavy. Even breathing became difficult.
The figure's gaze swept over the village before locking onto Ron.
"You are the one," the man said, his deep voice reverberating like a divine decree.
Ron's body shivered. He felt as if his very soul was being laid bare.
"Who… who are you?" Ron managed to whisper.
The man descended before him, his expression unreadable. "My name is Shen Tian. I come from a world beyond yours, and I have searched for you, heir of the Devouring Dragon Bloodline."
The words shook Ron to his core.
"Devouring Dragon… Bloodline?"
Shen Tian raised his hand, and a crimson glow ignited in Ron's chest. A force, ancient and boundless, surged through his veins, burning like molten fire. Agony and power intertwined, forcing him to his knees as he clutched his chest.
"Arghhh!"
His bones cracked and reformed. His meridians, once blocked, shattered and reconstructed themselves, stronger and purer than before. His senses expanded, and for the first time in his life, he felt qi rushing into his body—like a dam finally breaking.
It was overwhelming. It was terrifying. It was power.
Shen Tian watched in silence. "Your bloodline has awakened, but this is only the beginning. The heavens themselves will stand against you. The world will seek your destruction."
Ron panted, his vision blurred from pain, yet a newfound fire burned in his eyes.
"If the heavens stand in my way," he whispered, voice hoarse yet unwavering, "then I will break the heavens."
A satisfied smirk appeared on Shen Tian's face. "Good. Then let your journey begin."