People called it the Middle Realm—a place where immortals strolled through daily life like neighbors you barely knew, where mountains floated overhead and rivers shimmered with spirit power instead of water. Sects ruled everything. Geniuses popped up every decade or so, shaking the world for a moment before burning out or vanishing.
And for a while—life just… settled. The world felt whole. Complete, even. Like nothing terrible dared break through.
But then that night came.
You probably wouldn't have noticed anything at first. Just a weird shimmer way up high, a little like heat on a stone road in summer.
Then, out of nowhere—CRACK.
The sky tore open.
No thunder. No lightning. Just—something else. Like the world itself was splitting and something enormous wanted in.
All across the Middle Realm, people felt the shift. Old cultivators' meditations snapped. Sect leaders moved out of their chambers with a cold shiver running up their spines. Beasts wailed, sensing doom in the wind.
And up on a cliff that floated into midnight clouds, Mu Yao raised her head.
She stood there, snow-white robes drifting in the wind, eyes as deep and calm as the ocean after a storm.
Mu Yao. People whispered her name the way you whisper forbidden prayers.
One of the strongest in the Middle Realm.
"…It's finally happening." Her voice was gentle, but her face was dark—shadowed by dread.
Because she knew. This wasn't lightning or rain. This wasn't an accident.
This was an invasion.
The Child From the Sky (11 Years Ago)
Before the sky broke, there was another night. You could almost call it peaceful.
Eleven years ago.
Mu Yao sat alone, lost in meditation high above the clouds.
Suddenly—a flash across the sky.
Golden lightning. Not angry or violent, but radiant. Beautiful, nearly divine. For a moment, all she could do was stare. "…What is that?"
Then she saw it—something falling from heaven, shrouded in gold, burning its own path through the darkness.
Not a falling star. Not some weapon from a warring sect.
A child.
She didn't hesitate. She vanished and reappeared in the air, catching the little figure as it plummeted out of the light.
The glow faded away, slowly. In her arms, a baby—peaceful. Sleeping, you could mistake it for any infant, but something about it felt wrong. Or maybe… too right. Too perfect.
She was startled, not by the child, but by what circled him.
He held a ring in one tiny hand—old, plain, unreadable by any sense.
Above his chest floated a small, rotating cube—orange-gold, carved with shifting runes, burning with a power that pressed against Mu Yao's soul.
"…Impossible…" she whispered, stretching out to touch it.
The moment she came close—she was thrown back, body trembling. That thing. That presence.
This artifact… it's beyond me.
And the realization hit her like cold water: she stood at the very pinnacle of this world, and even she couldn't understand it.
She stared at him. Quiet. Completely still.
"…Who are you?" she breathed.
The child gave no answer. Just soft breaths.
Mu Yao sighed, her heart heavy.
"…Fine," she murmured, gathering the baby into her robes.
"…From now on, you are mine."
From the empty sky, he earned a name.
Lin Xuan.
A Master, Not a Mother
Years passed in a blink.
Lin Xuan grew up with the Mu Clan, but life wasn't warm. Forget fairy tales. Forget laughter.
Mu Yao? Never once did she coddle him. Never spoiled him, never hugged him for comfort.
What she gave was training. Endless, brutal training.
"Again."
Little Lin Xuan—six years old, sweating, clutching a wooden sword so tightly his knuckles turned white. She stood in front of him, face calm.
"I… can't…"
"…Then die." Her tone was cold stone.
He flinched, whole body freezing.
"…If you can't stand up again… you'll die one day anyway." There was nothing gentle about it.
Silence filled the room. He pushed himself up. Again. And again.
This was how he grew up. Not in warmth or safety, but in the shadow of survival. Every lesson a blade, every day a test
At night, when she thought nobody watched, Mu Yao stood by his bed and looked down at him sleeping. For a moment, all that cool sharpness faded—her face grew soft.
"…Forgive me," she whispered.
Because the truth was, on the night she found him, she scoured records, tore through forbidden books, even broke into old tombs trying to figure out his origin.
What she found were fragments. Whispers of something ancient and terrible.
"A being not belonging to the Four Realms…"
Lower. Middle. Upper. Divine.
He was from none of them.
Which meant—If anyone ever learned the truth, the whole world would hunt him.
So, she hid what she knew. She trained him, not to live like a normal person, but to survive. Survive in a world that would turn on him for simply existing.
Chapter 2: The Day Everything Ended
Now, in the present, the sky finally broke.
Portals ripped through the air.
They came out of them—the Evil Race.
Twisted black armor, red eyes that burned like open wounds, an aura that ate at your flesh just by being near.
The moment their feet struck earth, the world began to rot.
Cities crumbled. Sects—gone in moments.
Even the strongest cultivators—Mu Yao's peers—slaughtered like animals. Blood and Screams
Lin Xuan stood in the middle of the chaos, his ears ringing so loud he barely heard the screams.
All around him: people dying, begging—no one helped.
He saw a kid clinging to a corpse, a cultivator on his knees, blood filling the streets faster than anyone could clean it.
"...Master…" His voice shook. He didn't get it—this morning, everything had seemed so normal.
Now, the world was dying.
Chapter 3: The Final Lesson
Mu Yao appeared before him, her perfect robe now dark with blood.
But her face stayed unnaturally calm.
"Xuan'er."
He ran to her. "Master! What's happening? Why—"
She pressed her hand to his head, gently.
"Listen."
Her voice had never been so soft. It frightened him more than the blood or screams.
"You must live."
"…What?"
No explanations. No comfort. Just three words.
The Truth He Was Never Meant to Hear
Three shadows fell from the sky—Evil Race generals.
Their power weighed down on the world. Even Mu Yao seemed to struggle, her breath weakening.
One pointed at him. "…So the child is here."
Lin Xuan stiffened. "…Child?"
Mu Yao's look turned ice-cold. "…You'll never touch him."
The general let out a low, ugly laugh. "You think you can stop us?"
No one spoke.
Mu Yao raised her hand, twisting space. The ring appeared, and she slid it onto Lin Xuan's finger.
Then, the cube—its aura flared, even the invaders went pale.
"…So it's true…"
The Most Painful Goodbye
Mu Yao pulled Lin Xuan close.
"Listen," she said, voice unsteady for the first time ever.
"You're not ordinary. You have to survive. Whatever happens. Understand?"
Lin Xuan shook his head, stubborn tears sliding down. "I don't want to! Let's go together!"
She just smiled—soft, sad.
"You're still a child."
She pressed her finger to her chest, drawing a drop of blood so bright it hurt to look at.
"MASTER NO—!"
She forced it into him. Pain flared, ripping through him, but the fear was worse. He could feel what she meant to do.
She wasn't planning to survive.
A portal ripped open—leading to the Lower Realm.
Unstable. Dangerous. But the only escape.
Mu Yao shoved Lin Xuan toward it.
"MASTER!!!" he screamed, reaching out, tears running down his cheeks.
"…Come back…"
The portal swallowed him. Shut.
The last thing he saw—she stood, turning away, facing the entire Evil Race by herself. Still smiling that impossibly calm smile.
End of Volume 1's Beginning
So, this is where it really starts. The end wasn't the end at all.
From here: His fall to the Lower Realm. His mind breaking. That slow, agonizing change from a helpless kid to someone willing to do anything to survive.