Rebirth of the Celestial Warrior

"I will never bow in this life. Even if you break every bone in my body, I will never kneel before you!"

With a furious roar, Mo Que's bloodshot eyes snapped open as he awoke from his unconsciousness. But instead of the cruel and arrogant face he expected, he was met with the cold, damp walls of a stone chamber.

A wave of excruciating pain surged through his body, a cruel reminder that what had happened wasn't a nightmare—it was real. The head of the Ye family had beaten him within an inch of his life. His robes were soaked in his own blood, and several bones were shattered, making every breath an agony.

"Heh… so the Ye family went this far, crippling me for the sake of an outsider… and even locking me in their dungeon."

As he recognized his surroundings, a chilling realization settled in his heart.

His surname was Mo, not Ye, but his mother had been a daughter of the Ye family. Half of his bloodline was theirs. Yet when he offended the young master of another clan, Ye Rufeng, the head of the Ye family, had ordered him to be beaten to death—just to appease the anger of an outsider.

And yet, for some unknown reason, he had survived. Instead of being discarded like a corpse, he had been thrown into this dungeon.

"You're awake."

A cold, emotionless voice drifted through the air.

Mo Que turned his head and saw a woman standing beyond the iron bars. She was dressed in pure white, her long black hair cascading like a waterfall, her beauty so ethereal that she seemed to have stepped out of a painting. But the chill in her gaze made her feel like a stranger.

Mo Que let out a cold laugh. "Three years… I've spent three years in the Ye family, yet I'm only now realizing—I never truly knew you."

Three years ago, Ye Chenxue had been nothing more than an ordinary girl in the Ye family.

Three years later, she had become its greatest genius, the so-called goddess of Qingcheng, dazzling and unmatched. And all of it—her strength, her rise—was thanks to Mo Que's careful guidance. He had shaped her into what she was today.

Yet when he was humiliated, beaten, and condemned, she had stood by in silence, watching indifferently.

"You offended Yun Hanzhou," Ye Chenxue said, her voice devoid of warmth. "If my father didn't give him an explanation, the Yun family wouldn't be satisfied."

Mo Que's fingers curled into a fist. "Offended? You mean… I hurt the spirit dog he raised?"

A sharp, bitter pain sliced through his heart.

That was the real reason.

Yun Hanzhou had brought his spirit dog into the Ye household and allowed it to attack Mo Que. In self-defense, Mo Que had fought back, wounding the beast.

That was all it took for Yun Hanzhou to explode in rage, declaring that Mo Que's life wasn't worth even a single hair on his spirit dog. He demanded Mo Que kneel before the beast, kowtow, and beg for forgiveness.

A dog. He was expected to kneel before a dog.

Mo Que refused.

Then the head of the Ye family arrived. He ordered Mo Que to kneel and apologize.

Still, Mo Que refused. He would rather have his bones shattered than bow.

Infuriated, Ye Rufeng commanded his men to beat Mo Que to death on the spot, just to pacify Yun Hanzhou's anger.

And through it all, Ye Chenxue had stood there—watching, silent.

Now, in her eyes, it was he who had offended Yun Hanzhou.

"Yun Hanzhou may be a spoiled fool," Ye Chenxue continued, her voice as distant as ever, "but his older brother is a genius of the Sword Tower."

She looked at Mo Que with neither guilt nor regret. "In a few days, the Sword Tower will open its doors to new disciples. I intend to join. If his brother takes me under his wing, my future there will be much smoother."

Mo Que let out a cold laugh. "So that's it. You're abandoning me for your future."

Three years of guidance. Three years of loyalty.

Yet to her, he wasn't even worth as much as someone else's dog.

People were worth less than dogs. And kindness was lighter than grass.

"Three years ago, you were the brightest genius in the Hundred States," Ye Chenxue said, as if she could read his thoughts. But there was no nostalgia in her eyes, only ruthless pragmatism.

"But now… your Dantian is shattered. Your meridians are severed. Your orifices are destroyed. You'll never cultivate again. Meanwhile, with Yun Hanzhou's brother's help, I can soar to the heavens."

Mo Que's breath trembled. His fist clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palm, drawing blood.

Three years ago, he had been ambushed. His cultivation was ruined. He fell from being a legendary genius to nothing—a cripple. With nowhere else to go, he had sought refuge in his mother's clan, the Ye family.

Now, the same clan that had taken him in was throwing him away like garbage.

"You were good to me these past three years," Ye Chenxue said, as if offering a final kindness. "But my Ye family has given you shelter. We owe each other nothing."

With those cold parting words, she turned and walked away, leaving him with nothing but her fading silhouette.

Mo Que laughed bitterly. "Three years of effort, and all I get is a simple 'we owe each other nothing'?"

His body was too weak. His vision swam. His rage burned, searing every fiber of his being.

Then—

"If the Dantian is broken, then let the world become my sea of Qi!"

"If the meridians are severed, then let the mountains and rivers guide my vitality!"

"If all orifices are shattered, then let the sun, moon, and stars be my orifices!"

"If the heart is invincible, then even a cripple can walk the path of the undefeated!"

A voice rang through his mind—one he hadn't heard in three years. A voice both familiar and foreign.

The burning sensation in his body intensified, not just from his rage, but from something else. A blazing force surged through his shattered body, flooding his limbs, his broken meridians.

When his consciousness returned, Mo Que realized his injuries were healing at an astonishing rate.

"Destruction before rebirth… using the essence of spirit to refine the body?" His breath hitched in disbelief.

He had stepped onto the path of body refinement.

Three years ago, his body had been destroyed. His Qi pathways were gone—no Dantian to gather Qi, no meridians to circulate it, no acupoints to store it. His cultivation was crippled.

Yet he had refused to give up. He had chosen a different road—the lost, grueling, and nearly impossible path of physical cultivation.

For three years, he had struggled in vain. Progress was slow, results nonexistent.

But now—

Now, after being beaten within an inch of his life, after suffering wounds that should have killed him, his body had awakened. The pain, the suffering—it had all built up, waiting for this very moment.

And now, at last, it had erupted.

His path was no longer one of Qi cultivation.

He would forge a new path.

A path of an indomitable body.

A path that no one had walked before.