·Sovereign of the Celestial
The cold wind howled through the grand courtyards of the 'Crimson Dragon Sect,' carrying with it the scent of rain and blood. The setting sun bathed the ancient stone pavilions in a dying crimson light, as if the heavens themselves wept for what was about to unfold.
At the heart of the sect's grand martial arena, Li Tianming knelt in the dirt. His once-pristine white robes were in tatters, streaked with blood and dust. His long black hair, usually tied with the jade clasp of an elite disciple, hung loose and disheveled.
He coughed, tasting copper. His hands trembled as he pressed them into the cold stone beneath him. His entire body screamed in agony, his dantian—his very core of cultivation—shattered beyond repair.
Above him, towering over his broken form, stood Li Yunxian, his elder brother.
Li Yunxian's golden robes shimmered under the waning light, his sword still dripping with Tianming's blood. His expression was one of mocking pity, yet his eyes gleamed with triumph.
"You were the pride of our sect, Tianming," he said smoothly. "The chosen heir. A genius who stood above all others."
He crouched down, gripping Tianming's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze.
"But what are you now?" Yunxian whispered, his voice like venom. "A cripple. A disgrace."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd of gathered disciples and elders.
The great Li Tianming… defeated?
How could this happen?
Only one voice spoke with certainty.
A deep, authoritative voice that carried over the hushed whispers.
"Tianming," came the voice of Li Zhonghai, the sect master—his father.
Tianming's breath caught in his throat. Even in his weakened state, his instincts screamed at him to rise, to stand tall before his father. But he could not.
Not anymore.
Li Zhonghai descended from the elder's platform, his long crimson robes flowing behind him. His expression was unreadable, his eyes filled with disappointment colder than the winter wind.
Tianming desperately searched his father's face for even a hint of warmth. A trace of the pride he once saw in those eyes.
It was not there.
"You have brought shame upon our sect," his father said at last, his voice cutting like a blade.
Tianming's chest clenched. "Father, I—"
"You are no longer my son."
The words struck deeper than any wound Yunxian had inflicted.
Tianming's vision blurred. His breath came in ragged gasps. "No… I… I was betrayed!"
He turned toward the elders, the ones who had trained him, guided him. Would they not speak for him?
But their faces were blank. Indifferent.
No one would stand for him.
His life, his achievements—everything had been stripped from him in an instant.
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Night fell over the Crimson Dragon Sect.
Tianming stumbled through the empty courtyards, his vision swimming. Every step sent a fresh jolt of pain through his ruined body.
The same sect disciples who once bowed to him, who once called him "Senior Brother," now turned their gazes away as if he were a ghost.
Some sneered. Some whispered.
None reached out a hand to help.
He reached the Cliff of Solitude, a sacred place where disciples once meditated beneath the endless night sky. Now, it was his graveyard.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips.
All his life, he had fought, bled, and suffered to earn his place.
And yet, here he was. A cripple. A discarded waste.
His knees buckled, and he fell to the cold, wet earth. The wind howled, and thunder rumbled in the distance.
He closed his eyes.
Perhaps… it would be easier to let go.
To fade into nothingness.
But fate was not yet done with him.
A sudden, blinding light split the heavens.
Tianming's eyes snapped open as a streak of golden fire shot from the sky, crashing into the cliffside before him. The earth trembled. Ancient runes—forgotten by time—glowed upon the stone.
And at the center of it all… A single jade fragment, pulsing with an otherworldly aura.
Tianming's breath caught. The jade whispered to him. Not in words, but in feelings, in echoes of a power far beyond mortal comprehension.
His body moved on instinct. Drawn to it.
The moment his fingers brushed the jade's surface—
A storm of memories flooded his mind.
Visions of gods and demons clashing in the heavens. A celestial war that sundered worlds.
And at the heart of it all— A sovereign, clad in golden light, standing at the peak of existence.
The voice of the jade resonated within him.
"Rise, Sovereign of the Celestial Ascent."
Pain burned through his veins, but it was not the pain of death.
It was rebirth.
His shattered dantian… reformed. No, it was no longer a mere dantian—it was something greater, something limitless.
Golden energy surged through him, burning away the weakness, the despair.
Tianming gasped, his fingers digging into the earth as the weight of a forgotten legacy settled upon him.
The heavens had forsaken him.
His family had betrayed him.
But now?
He had the power to carve his own path.
His eyes opened, glowing with celestial fire.
Li Tianming was dead.
But something far greater had taken his place.