A week after the awakening ceremony, Chu Feng finally opened his eyes.
The room around him blurred in and out of focus. His body felt weak and empty, as though the strength in his limbs had been scooped out and left behind somewhere else. He tried to sit up, but pain flared through his chest, and he sank back against the bed with a soft hiss.
The door opened.
"Feng'er!"
His father hurried inside and sat beside him at once, relief flooding his face. Chu Kang took his son's hand tightly, as if afraid that speaking too loudly might break the fragile peace of the room.
"You're awake," he said. "Good. Good."
Chu Feng swallowed and looked at him. "Father... did I awaken?"
Chu Kang's expression changed so quickly that it almost escaped notice. He hesitated just long enough for Chu Feng to feel it.
Then his father forced a smile. "Don't worry about that yet. What matters is that you're alive."
Chu Feng looked away.
He remembered pain. Silver light. The shard of something sharp and divine struck through his brow. He remembered the crystal shattering, the panic in the courtyard, and the sensation that something inside him had nearly broken in two.
He also remembered fear.
One month later, he could walk again.
Not well, but enough.
His body was still pale and thin, and every movement came with a faint ache, but at least he was no longer trapped in bed. The clan elders had already made their judgment clear.
His Cosmic Soul had awakened.
But it was defective.
No one explained it in detail. They only said that his soul had been damaged during awakening, leaving it unstable and incomplete. If he tried to cultivate recklessly, the backlash could destroy his body.
So they barred him from training.
The word followed him everywhere.
Defective.
It felt like a brand burned into his bones.
Some servants looked at him with pity. Others with caution. A few children who had once played beside him now kept their distance, as if bad luck were contagious.
But not everyone turned away.
His father refused to accept the result. Chu Kang brought him medicine, food, and whatever encouragement he could manage, though his own face often showed the strain of trying to stay hopeful.
And Chu Ming came too.
His cousin always arrived with a sharp tongue and a bag full of elixirs, as if she were determined to bully him back into health.
"You look like a ghost," she said one afternoon, tossing a medicine packet onto his bed. "Drink this."
Chu Feng looked up weakly. "Cousin, you shouldn't waste your quota on me."
Chu Ming folded her arms. "If Heaven wants you ordinary, that's one thing. But if you're going to lie here and mope about it, I'll be the one to slap some sense into you."
He gave a tired smile. "What if I really am ordinary?"
She snorted. "Then stop talking nonsense and drink."
Despite the harsh words, she always made him take the full dose.
Chu Feng never said it aloud, but those visits mattered.
They were proof that even in failure, he had not been completely abandoned.
Time passed.
The clan eventually allowed him limited access to the Rune Library, a privilege earned through his father's years of service. While the other children trained in courtyards and sparred beneath the eyes of instructors, Chu Feng spent his days among scrolls and old records, reading until the letters blurred.
At first, he read simply because there was nothing else to do.
Then he began to understand something.
Knowledge was power, too.
Maybe not the kind that shattered mountains, but the kind that built futures.
He read rune theory, soul classifications, beast records, ancient clan histories, and every scrap of cultivation knowledge he could find. Little by little, the library became less like a place of dusty boredom and more like a hidden battlefield where he could still fight, even if his body remained weak.
Then one day, in the farthest corner of the library, he found a book unlike the rest.
It was old, leather-bound, and so brittle it looked as if it might fall apart from a single touch. The title was faded, but still visible.
An Extreme Theory
Chu Feng frowned. The title sounded absurd.
Still, curiosity won.
He opened it.
The first page began with a strange burst of laughter and an even stranger introduction.
Ah-ha-ha! If you are reading this, child, then fate has chosen you.
Chu Feng blinked.
I am Chu Song, once the mightiest of our clan. Yet my power was incomplete. Beyond our continent lies a far greater world...
The rest of the page had been torn away.
"What the..." Chu Feng muttered, frowning. "Who ripped this?"
He turned to the next page.
Only a fragment remained, but it was enough to make him pause.
As Rune Masters, we strengthen the mind. But to reach higher realms, body and soul must unite. Prepare these herbs. Soak for three days. On the third day, while immersed, recite the mantra. Fail, and death will claim you.
Chu Feng stared at the page.
Death?
He flipped forward.
Blank.
Blank.
Blank.
Blank page after blank page.
His brows drew together. "No. Don't tell me this is one of those garbage books."
He stared at the shattered text for a moment, then slowly closed it.
And yet...
Even as he spoke, he could not ignore the way his heartbeat had quickened.
The few remaining lines had felt too deliberate, too precise. It did not read like a fool's trick. It read like something incomplete—something hidden on purpose.
He closed the book and carried it home.
That night, he asked his father a question.
"Father, if an ancient artifact refused to open, how would you make it recognise you?"
Chu Kang stroked his beard thoughtfully. "That depends. Some treasures choose their master. Others can only be awakened by blood."
"Blood?"
"Blood sacrifice," his father said. "But that is dangerous. Many treasures kill before they respond."
Chu Feng nodded as if he were only making conversation.
That night, however, he slipped away to an abandoned hut at the edge of the estate.
The moonlight seeped through broken tiles overhead. Dust lay thick on the floor. No one came here anymore.
He set the book before him and took out a small blade.
Then he pricked his finger.
A single drop of blood fell onto the page.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and tried again.
Still nothing.
He did it a third time.
The page shimmered faintly, then went still.
Chu Feng looked at the book and gave a quiet, humourless laugh. "Not enough, huh?"
He looked down at the book as if it had insulted him. "Greedy thing."
He pricked his finger again.
And again.
The pages remained silent.
Days passed like that.
He returned to the hut over and over, each time feeding the book a little more blood. His face grew paler. His steps grew slower. He became quieter at meals and more withdrawn around others.
Chu Kang noticed.
"Feng'er," he said one evening, concern thick in his voice, "are you being bullied?"
Chu Feng looked up from his bowl and smiled faintly. "No, Father. I'm just reading too much. I'll rest more."
His father studied him for a long time, but in the end said nothing.
And Chu Feng kept his secret.
A year later, something inside him snapped.
It was a rainy night. The abandoned hut smelled of damp wood and old dust. Chu Feng sat before the book with a face worn by exhaustion, frustration, and stubborn refusal.
"A whole year," he muttered. "A whole year and nothing."
The book did not answer.
The silence felt like mockery.
His chest rose and fell sharply. Anger, long buried beneath patience, finally broke through.
"What are you waiting for?" he hissed. "Are you laughing at me?"
He coughed hard.
A mouthful of blood spilt from his lips and splashed across the parchment.
For one heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then light erupted.
Golden lines ignited across the pages, spreading like rivers of molten fire. Chu Feng fell backwards with a gasp, shielding his eyes as characters burned themselves into his vision.
Revolution Connecting Mantra
Strengthen the body, and the mind shall feed upon it.
Temper the mind, and the body shall become divine.
When body and soul connect, revolution begins.
Chu Feng stared.
The light dimmed, but the words remained.
His heart pounded so hard it hurt.
This was real.
Not a trick or a lie.
And not another dead end.
A lost method had opened to him.
And for the first time since the awakening ceremony, Chu Feng felt something stronger than pain, stronger than humiliation, stronger than despair.
Hope.
And thus, the legend of a defective soul began to shift toward destiny itself.
End of Chapter 2