In early winter, the first snowfall arrived in the wasteland region. Cold and brisk, the wind announced the arrival of a brumal gloom.
Within the Xiao clan, one of the lesser clans that occupied a small corner of the Wasteland region, amongst one of the numerous households, a frail-looking old man held a child within his arms.
He stared down at the child, feeling a wave of emotions run through him. Pain and anguish amongst the many that plagued his heart. Every glance into the void where the child's bright eyes should have been only deepened those feelings.
…The eyes that should have been filled with special pupils were nowhere to be seen. Instead, all that was left was a deep pair of black abysses that refused to heal. Not only were the little kid's eyes dug out, even his eyes' primal source was not spared, refined and extracted- leaving the eyes in a deathly state.
He had tried to imagine the pain his grandson had to experience when he had his immortal heart and true blood dug out of him, and his face turned pale. By all logic, the little boy of a few months old should be dead. But somehow, along with the consumption of countless resources, the young boy managed to elude death's grasp. If only barely.
"Grandpa has failed you, Ming'er," Tears slid down the old man's cheek as he slumped onto the ground.
The little boy seemed to have no idea about what was going on. He could only make out a distinct familiar sound, and every slight action, such as breathing or thinking, consumed what little vital aura he had left. However, there was a mysterious force that surged with equal force and intensity from within him, filling his small body with life energy.
The old man knelt on the ground for a long time, eventually staring into the sky as though he could see through the veil that shrouded the stars and the moon. He trembled, and as though he had made a decision, his eyes shone, body surrounded by various mysterious symbols that seemed to reflect the opening of the world.
The old man stepped out of the room given by the patriarch of the Xiao Clan. He walked forward, each step taking him numerous li forward as though he were shrinking and warping space with every step he took. Before long, he arrived at the Xiao Clan's patriarch's abode.
Ni Tian waved his hand, and symbols rose into the air, time and space seeming to warp. A barrier created from immortal energy soon spread across the Xiao clan's patriarchal residence, enveloping both parties and the little kid still in the old man's arms.
Xiao Teng's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight. He seemed to vaguely see shadows of stars collapsing and the moon sinking behind the old man.
He had guessed the old man was probably an unmatched expert who was traveling through the vast, desolate wilderness, but only now were his thoughts proven true. Not only that, but he could feel a simple yet mysterious flow of energy surrounding them, almost as if the space they stood in had been cut off from the rest of the world!
'This should be enough to keep out Heaven's prying eyes,' the old man thought, a frown spreading across his face.
Ni Tian glanced at Xiao Teng, the deep frown on his face slowly easing.
For the next few minutes, it was as though whatever they discussed couldn't be heard by anyone, and whatever went on there couldn't be seen by any prying eyes: the heavens included. Amongst many were secrets that would cause even supreme experts to be shaken and act with greed and malicious intent.
By the end of the conversation, Xiao Teng's face had turned pale.
"He shall be named Ni Ming," the old man declared after a long moment of silence.
Startled, Xiao Teng thought, 'What a rebellious name!'
His brows narrowed. 'Isn't he afraid the child will invite heavenly retribution? Then again… that old man is no simple character. His grandson will surely be anything but ordinary.
Thinking up to this point, he visibly relaxed. The old man took one final glance at the little boy in his arms before handing him over to Xiao Teng.
"If nothing goes wrong, I should be back in a year or two," he said, his tone changing ever so slightly, his gaze becoming more solemn.
The old man stared into the sky, hands placed behind his back. He gave off a distinct aura, as though he towered above the mortal world. However, if one looked carefully, they would notice that beneath the exterior of this supreme being, there was a deep sense of sorrow and anguish, one that couldn't be hidden no matter how hard he sought for it to be veiled.
He prepared to leave. However, not without handing over to Xiao Teng the various resources that would be needed to keep his grandson alive until he came back. If he ever did.
Even for the old man, someone renowned through the heavens, standing at the absolute summit, there were still chances of him falling should he dare step foot into the Primal Chaotic Land. He knew better than anyone that this was a path of nine deaths and one life. Yet even so, he had already made up his mind.
The thought of his little grandson enduring a lifetime of agony was unbearable. Whatever the price, he would cure him — even if he had to defy the heavens to do it! The old man clenched his trembling hands, eyes filled with moisture as he resolutely stepped out of Xiao Teng's abode.
He feared the longer he stayed, the more unwilling he would be to leave. His body swerved as he moved forward. The wind roared and the heavens dimmed, as though resonating with the old man's chaotic emotions. The cries of the little baby filled the air, deepening the pain that settled in the old man's heart.
However, he wouldn't waver.
Step, Step.
No matter what, this was something he had to do.
***
It had been about a year and a half since the old man left the Xiao Clan. Little kids now filled the small clan, the elders imparting onto the children the necessary skills needed to survive in the wasteland region where desolate beasts roamed in abundance.
The kids, ranging from age six to ten, pressed forward, inhaling and exhaling as they released thunderous punches. A kaleidoscope of stances were performed, each straining their muscles, sweat dripping down the corner of their eyes.
The Xiao Clan Patriarch swept his gaze across the younger generation. "Push yourselves until your limits break, then keep going. The wasteland region doesn't care if you're gifted. Every corner is crawling with geniuses. Without relentless effort—and the will to stand above everyone else—you'll spend your lives as stepping stones beneath someone else's feet."
He stepped forward, each footfall resonating with the pounding heartbeats of the riled youngsters.
"If you can't even endure this little bit of pain," he thundered, "what right do you have to walk the path of cultivation?!"
"Yiah!"
The youngsters unleashed another volley of punches.
Weng!
A deafening boom rolled across the training ground.
The partriach's words had ignited something within them. Their exhaustion was swept away by burning resolve. With blood boiling and spirits soaring, they drove their fists forward, and cycled through one stance after another, forcing their wary bodies past their limits despite the pain wrecking every muscle.
The older men of the Xiao clan watched with faint smiles tugging at their lips.
"The patriarch is as crafty as ever," said Xiao Chi, one of the older men.
His words brought smiles to the faces of his colleagues, each one reminiscing about the good old days. Training under the scorching sun till they could move no further, hands trembling, body growing scalding hot, yet still pushing onwards.
"It's for their own good," Xiao Ma said solemnly, folding his arms across his chest. The smiles faded. One after another, the elders nodded, their expressions turning grim.
The cultivation world, and even more so, the desolate wilderness, was cruel and had no regard for one's age. Be it adults or children, none were exempted from the cruel trait of the wilderness. They either had to learn to kill… or be killed.
***
The breathing exercise continued until the children collapsed one after another.
"Lasting this long is actually not bad," Xiao chi commented. "Much better than us back then."
The others nodded in agreement.
"That's to be expected. The wasteland region is becoming more and more chaotic, with geniuses rising up in greater numbers," said the clan leader.
"Hopefully our clan can produce one or two geniuses capable of shaking the hundred clans' union," someone commented in passing, a light sigh escaping their lips.
A wry smile graced the clan leader's lips.
Had word of such a statement spread beyond the Xiao Clan, it would have been met with ridicule. The Xiao Clan was nothing more than one of the lowest-ranked clans within the Hundred Clans Union. Even the clans that reigned at the very summit would consider it a blessing from the heavens to produce one such genius, let alone several.
No one said anything; however, the gloomy expression that marred their features said it all. The clan leader coughed lightly and said:
"You all should let nature take its course. Also, prepare to go out and hunt for earth vein essence for the kids."
"Hah," one of the kids suddenly exclaimed, drawing their attention. "Xiao Lin is still the last one standing."
Xiao Lin, who was around age nine, slightly older and stronger than most of the kids, laughed, flexing his muscles before the fallen kids.
The older men saw the scene and couldn't help but laugh, a blithe atmosphere spreading across the training ground.
The patriarch smiled. "That's enough for today. You may all leave."
With that, he turned and made his way towards the distant waterfall behind the clan.
"It looks like the patriarch is going to see Ni Ming," said Xiao Ge, the eldest of the group.
His remark immediately drew a variety of reactions from the others. The older men looked on with complicated expressions. Several let out weary sighs, while others could only shake their heads in quiet pity.
***
Behind the Xiao clan, the water fell. And for months, a blind kid listened.
Each and every day, he came here, to the trickling sound.
He didn't know what he was looking for.
Drip, Drip~!
The water droplets shattered upon the stone.
Again.
And again.
The stone resisted, yet the water never stopped.
~ Why?
One day.
Three days.
Ten days.
A hundred? It mattered not, for he had long lost count.
He sat there like a Buddha seeking the dao, untouched by the ripples of the mortal world. Why did the water never stop dripping even when its attempt to crush the boulder beneath it always resulted in failure? Was there any point in its continuous effort if it would still result in inevitable failure?
Confused and bewildered, he sat down, listening, seeking to understand. For days, months, maybe it had even been a year; he couldn't tell. Until finally, a crisp sound of the boulder breaking open resounded through the air.
Suddenly, realization dawned on him. The innumerable days he'd spent seeking the dao finally came to some sort of fruition.
The blind kid stood up, trembling hands tightly clenched together. 'This was persistence! So what if he lost his eyes? He was still going to strive towards supremacy, and thread on his own path!'