A single ember can be snuffed out by the wind, but a wildfire—once it ignites—consumes the heavens themselves."
The dawn was quiet, but in the stillness of the Cold Moon Sect, silence was not peace—it was the breath before the storm.
Luo Yuan knelt before the Grand Elder's pavilion, his hands trembling, his robes torn, blood seeping into the cold stone beneath him. The once-pristine white fabric of his disciple's robe was now stained with the humiliation of his downfall. Around him, his fellow disciples whispered, their eyes flickering with amusement, pity, and indifference.
A frail figure, an elder with eyes like dying embers, stared down at him. Grand Elder Han's voice was impassive, like the rustling of dead leaves.
"Luo Yuan, do you know why you stand before the sect today?"
Luo Yuan's voice was hoarse, his throat dry as if he had swallowed sand. "I do not."
Laughter rippled through the crowd. A tall figure stepped forward—Bai Wenjian, a senior disciple, his face carved with arrogance, his golden robe gleaming under the morning sun.
"You don't?" Bai Wenjian sneered. "Then let me remind you. Today was supposed to be your ascension to the Inner Court. Instead, we learned that your cultivation has collapsed. A cripple has no place among us."
Luo Yuan's heart pounded in his chest, but his face remained blank. Collapsed? Impossible.
Last night, he had meditated beneath the Azure Flame Pagoda, feeling the energy of the heavens surge within him. He had touched the edge of breakthrough. But when he awoke this morning, his meridians were shattered, his dantian nothing but an abyss of silence.
Someone had destroyed his cultivation.
His mind raced—who could have done this? He had been careful, kept his cultivation steady, never made enemies beyond the usual rivalries. And yet, someone had struck with surgical precision, ensuring he would never cultivate again.
His eyes lifted—Bai Lianhua stood beside Bai Wenjian.
Her silken robes fluttered, the pink cherry blossom embroidery swaying in the wind. Once, she had been the warmth in his winter, the soft light in his darkest nights.
Now, she was nothing but a mirage.
Luo Yuan forced himself to meet her gaze. "You did this?"
Bai Lianhua did not flinch. Instead, she smiled—a gentle, pitying thing. "Yuan... You are talented, but talent is not enough in this world. I once believed in you, but you are too slow, too weak. Bai Wenjian is the sect leader's nephew. My father arranged our engagement long ago. You should understand… I had no choice."
Choice.
A simple word, yet a knife through the soul.
Luo Yuan clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palm. "And so, you destroyed my future?"
Bai Wenjian chuckled, wrapping an arm around Bai Lianhua's waist. "Destroyed? No, no. I merely corrected fate. You were reaching too high, dreaming too much. This world is built upon blood and legacy, not delusions."
The Grand Elder sighed. "Luo Yuan, for your crimes of deceiving the sect and attempting to ascend beyond your station, you are hereby expelled. You shall leave Cold Moon Sect by dusk. Should you be seen within our lands again, your life will be forfeit."
Expelled.
Luo Yuan felt the word like a hammer against his bones. His whole life—his training, his sacrifices—reduced to dust in mere moments.
The sect he had bled for had turned its back on him.
The woman he had loved had betrayed him.
His cultivation was gone.
And yet, deep inside his chest, where the embers of his spirit still smoldered, something refused to die.
🔥 A Broken Man Walks the Path of No Return 🔥
The road was long, winding through mountains bathed in twilight. Luo Yuan walked alone, his steps slow but steady.
The world had already forgotten him.
As he reached the edge of the sect's domain, a chilling wind howled through the cliffs, whispering secrets only the forsaken could hear.
Beneath the shadow of an ancient tree, an old man sat, cloaked in rags, eyes like dying stars. He gazed at Luo Yuan and smiled—a knowing, bitter smile.
"A crippled boy walks the road of the damned. Tell me, child… Do you seek revenge?"
Luo Yuan halted. His fingers twitched.
Did he seek revenge?
No. Revenge was too simple.
He sought something deeper.
Power.
The kind that could never be taken from him.
The kind that would burn the heavens themselves.
He lifted his head, his crimson eyes gleaming under the moonlight.
"I seek eternity."
The old man laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that shook the earth itself.
"Then come, boy. Let me teach you the art of gods and devils."
And so, the ember of Luo Yuan's soul sparked once more.
What had been lost… would be reclaimed.
What had been stolen… would be burned.
This was not the end.
This was only the beginning.
"A man who has nothing to lose is the most dangerous of all. And a man who has been burned… is the one who learns to control the flames."