Dust.
The last mote of spiritual energy dissipated from the low-grade spirit stone clutched in Mo Liangye's hand, leaving behind nothing but grey, worthless powder that crumbled between his fingers. Deep within his Dantian, the conceptual 'God Seed' remained stubbornly dormant, an abyssal maw that had devoured the stone's meager essence in mere moments, offering no discernible change in return. A constant, gnawing hunger emanated from it, a chilling fire burning silently within him.
Three low-grade spirit stones – a pathetic monthly stipend for an outer disciple of the Pale Cloud Sect, supplemented by grueling work in the sect kitchens – gone. Vanished in less than an hour of attempting to nurture this terrifying, exhilarating secret he carried. Outside his dilapidated wooden shack, the night deepened, the cold mountain air seeping through the warped planks, carrying the scent of damp earth from the earlier rain.
Mo Liangye opened his eyes. The darkness within the cramped room was broken only by the flickering flame of a cheap oil lamp, casting dancing shadows that seemed to mock his poverty. His eyes, usually as still and deep as a forgotten well, held a flicker of cold frustration. He let out a slow breath, circulating the thin ambient Qi using the sect's standard 'Flowing Cloud' technique. It was a facade, a necessary camouflage. Mid-stage Qi Refining – utterly unremarkable, perhaps even slightly below average for his age, perfect for blending in, for being overlooked.
Unremarkable. A humorless smirk almost touched Mo Liangye's lips. If these sect members, these arrogant seniors and naive juniors, knew what truly resided within him, knew the ancient, terrifying power he was desperately trying to awaken, 'unremarkable' would be the last word on their lips before terror or boundless greed consumed them. But they didn't know. And he would ensure they never did. Not until he was strong enough.
A bitter memory surfaced, unbidden. Rough hands, a sickeningly sweet smile masking vile intentions – the 'uncle' who had taken him in after his parents' death. The pain, the humiliation, the gnawing helplessness of being utterly powerless, a plaything for another's cruelty. That feeling… he would never experience it again.
Power. He needed power. Absolute power that would make him untouchable, power to grasp his own destiny, power to crush anyone, anything, that dared stand in his way. The Ancient God Path, this impossible, demanding legacy he'd stumbled upon in a desolate ravine while foraging for spirit herbs a year ago – a tattered, ancient beast hide scroll radiating an undeniable aura of primordial might – was his only answer. His only sliver of luck in a life defined by hardship. And he would stake everything on it.
CRASH!
The flimsy wooden door to his room was kicked open violently. Instantly, Mo Liangye's cold frustration vanished, replaced by the practiced mask of a meek, slightly startled outer disciple. The remnants of the spirit stone dust were subtly brushed away.
Three figures filled the doorway, silhouetted against the faint moonlight. The one in the center was stout, his round face etched with arrogance, his outer disciple robes noticeably cleaner and newer than Mo Liangye's. Zhao Feng. Notorious for having a cousin in the Inner Sect. Flanking him were his usual two sycophants, their eyes filled with undisguised mockery as they surveyed the pathetic room.
"Mo Liangye, the silent trash," Zhao Feng sneered, stepping inside as if he owned the place, his nose wrinkling slightly at the room's musty smell. "What were you doing? Dreaming of getting strong by breathing empty air?"
Harsh laughter echoed from his two lackeys.
Mo Liangye lowered his head slightly, avoiding Zhao Feng's gaze. "Greetings, Senior Brother Zhao," he murmured, his voice deliberately soft, perhaps a touch hesitant.
Zhao Feng snorted. "Don't 'Senior Brother' me with that pathetic tone. I heard the monthly stipends were just distributed. You know, my cultivation is at a crucial stage, needs a little… supplement." He thrust out a fleshy hand. "Hand over half your spirit stones. Consider it a sign of respect for your future Inner Sect senior."
A cold rage ignited deep within Mo Liangye, but his face remained passive. Half? His stipend was a miserable three stones! Handing over 'half' – which meant two, as they couldn't be split – would leave him with virtually nothing for the entire month. His Ancient God Path cultivation would stagnate completely.
"Senior Brother Zhao," Mo Liangye began softly, "my stipend was very small… barely enough for my own basic needs…"
SMACK!
A light slap landed on Mo Liangye's cheek. Not hard enough to cause real injury, but stinging with humiliation. It came not from Zhao Feng, but from one of his lackeys, prompted by a flick of Zhao Feng's eyes.
"Dare to bargain?" the lackey snarled. "Senior Brother Zhao is being generous asking for only half!"
Zhao Feng smirked, pleased. "See? Even my dogs know their manners better than you. Hand them over, quickly. Or do you want to feel your bones break?"
Mo Liangye held his breath for a moment. He could sense Zhao Feng's Qi – early-stage Qi Refining peak, perhaps slightly below his own camouflaged level. But with two lackeys and whatever backing Zhao Feng might have, fighting now was suicide. Logic screamed at him to endure. His plans weren't ready. His vengeance needed patience.
With a hand that trembled slightly (mostly feigned), Mo Liangye reached into his worn pouch and produced the single, dusty spirit stone he hadn't yet crushed – the one Zhao Feng's arrival had interrupted him from using. "This is all that's left, Senior Brother Zhao. The others were already used…" He deliberately showed only one, hoping Zhao Feng's greed wasn't absolute tonight.
Zhao Feng eyed the cloudy stone with disdain, then looked Mo Liangye up and down. He knew Mo Liangye was poor and backgroundless. Perhaps he believed him. Or perhaps he simply wanted to assert his dominance.
"Hmph, trash like you is useless anyway," Zhao Feng sneered, but he snatched the spirit stone. "Remember your place, Mo Liangye. Don't let me see you again tonight." He turned, his lackeys trailing him, leaving Mo Liangye alone in the cold, oppressive silence of his room.
Mo Liangye touched his cheek where the slap had landed, the faint sting already fading, replaced by an icy resolve. His eyes narrowed, a chilling glint flashing within them before vanishing back into calm depths. Zhao Feng… you just signed your death warrant. He filed this debt away in his heart. Not just the spirit stone, but the humiliation. He would repay it a thousand times over, with interest compounded in blood.
He sat back down, the emptiness in his pouch mirroring the gnawing hunger in his Dantian. His need for resources was no longer just a desire, it was a desperate, burning necessity. He had to get stronger, faster.
As if in answer to his silent, desperate plea, the next morning brought a surge of excitement rippling through the outer disciple area. A large notice had been posted on the main announcement board near the training grounds, drawing a thick crowd. Mo Liangye, drawn by the commotion, slipped through the throng, his eyes quickly scanning the bold characters written on the parchment.
ANNOUNCEMENT: Pale Cloud Sect Outer Disciple Ranking Competition!
Time: One Month From Today.
Participants: All Outer Disciples under the age of 20.
Rewards:
Rank 1-10: Promotion to Inner Disciple status, access to advanced Basic Technique Pavilion, superior living quarters, and monthly resource stipend TEN TIMES that of an outer disciple!
Rank 11-50: Resource stipend tripled for one year.
Rank 1: Additional reward of one low-grade Foundation Establishment Pill!
Special Bonus: The Top Five Disciples in this competition will be selected to represent the Pale Cloud Sect in the Jade Mountain Five Sect Alliance Meet in three months! An opportunity to display talent before major sects and potentially be recruited!
The crowd buzzed with excited chatter. Names were thrown around – Zhao Feng, Wang Hu, Li Mei, a few others considered talented or well-connected. Mo Liangye's gaze, however, was locked onto the rewards for the top ranks and the special bonus.
Ten times the resources. Inner Disciple status. And a chance… a chance to go to a bigger stage, a chance to be recruited by a sect where resources flowed like water, a place where his Ancient God Path could truly flourish.
This was it. This was his path forward. His only path forward right now. He had to break into the top ten, no, the top five.
But how? With his current strength and zero spirit stones? Impossible. He needed resources now, a significant amount, just to prepare.
Mo Liangye slipped away from the crowd, his mind already racing, calculating. He had no money, no connections within the sect. Stealing from other disciples was too risky before the competition. Borrowing? Laughable.
His gaze drifted involuntarily towards the rugged, imposing mountains looming behind the sect. The Back Mountains. A place of danger, filled with vicious spirit beasts, but also a place where spirit herbs grew wild and small spirit stone veins were occasionally found by the desperate or the daring. The place where he had found the Ancient God scroll. Dangerous, yes, but also filled with hidden opportunities.
A plan began to form, cold and sharp in his mind. A dangerous plan, high-risk, but perhaps his only viable option. He would return to those mountains. Not just to forage, but to hunt. Hunt spirit beasts for their crystal cores, and perhaps... hunt for other 'opportunities' should he encounter less fortunate disciples.
That night, under the same cold moon that mirrored the chill in his heart, Mo Liangye wasn't meditating. He was carefully sharpening the cheap, sturdy dagger hidden beneath a loose floorboard in his room, its polished edge reflecting the predatory glint in his dark eyes. The competition was his battlefield, but the Back Mountains would be his training ground, his hunting ground, his first source of capital. Mo Liangye's journey on the ruthless path of cultivation had truly begun.