A bitter wind howled across the ruined mountainside. The air was heavy, filled with the lingering presence of the celestial figures who had just departed. Though they had left, their judgment still remained—a silent force pressing against Lian Yu's very existence.
His body screamed in pain, yet something deeper gnawed at him. It wasn't just the wounds or exhaustion; it was as if the world itself refused to acknowledge him.
Lian Yu's fingers tightened around the dirt beneath him. This feeling… it was rejection.
The heavens had not merely tried to kill him. They had tried to erase him. To make it so he had never existed in the first place.
He forced himself to his feet, every movement slow and agonizing. His robes were torn, blood soaking into the fabric. His cultivation…
Lian Yu's expression darkened. His cultivation was gone.
Or rather—it had been forcefully severed.
A cultivator's foundation was their connection to the world's spiritual energy, the flow of Qi through their body and soul. Yet now, his core felt hollow, as if something had reached inside him and torn away his very right to cultivate.
He was crippled.
A cold realization struck him. If Heaven had truly erased him, then shouldn't he be dead? His body should have turned to dust, his soul scattered into nothingness.
And yet, he still existed.
Something had interfered.
His hands trembled as he pressed them against his chest, focusing inward. What he found should not have been possible.
There—at the center of his being—was a single, flickering light.
It was faint, nearly imperceptible, yet impossibly deep. A power unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was not Qi. It was not demonic energy, nor any force he recognized.
It was something entirely separate from the world itself.
And it was keeping him alive.
Lian Yu took a slow breath, steadying himself. The heavens had cast him aside, declaring him unworthy of existence. His cultivation had been stripped away, his foundation shattered.
Yet, against all reason, he still remained.
And if Heaven wished to erase him—then he would give them a reason to fear him instead.
His journey was not over.
It had only just begun.