Chapter One: A Sky of One's Own

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The Village of Divine Tombs lay nestled within the Azure Lotus Mountains, surrounded by a vast wilderness and towering peaks. Night had fallen, and the sky was studded with stars like twinkling pearls, casting a sense of serenity over the land.

A group of youths darted through the forest, bows drawn, chasing after a wild creature that bounded ahead of them. The leading boy let an arrow fly, but the agile animal dodged, leaping into a shadowy grove and vanishing from sight.

“Dong, what do we do now?” called one of the boys, stepping up behind Chen Dong, his brow furrowed as he stared into the darkened woods ahead.

Chen Dong’s face was tense, his grip tightening around his longbow. The forest before them belonged to the Chen family; without their consent, no one was permitted to set foot inside—no matter who they were.

But half a month ago, something strange had happened in the village. A boy named Mo Fan had fallen ill with a mysterious disease, his body covered in festering sores. Even Old Wang, the famed healer known as the Ghost-Handed Physician, was helpless before it.

To prevent the illness from spreading, the healer had advised banishing the boy to a deserted place, leaving him to his fate. To appease the villagers, the village chief, Chen Daode, offered a portion of his own mountain to Mo Fan.

According to Old Wang’s diagnosis, Mo Fan would not survive more than seven days on the mountain; after that, death was certain. Yet, days ago, a villager gathering firewood claimed to have glimpsed the boy alive in the woods, still covered in sores but showing no sign of death. The man fell gravely ill upon returning and barely survived.

To confirm the story, Chen Daode organized a thorough search of the mountain, but no sign of Mo Fan—or his body—was found. The villagers were divided: some believed Mo Fan had left and would not return; others suspected he was in hiding, waiting to strike back at the villagers. The debate raged on.

Fortunately, Old Wang mediated, urging everyone to stay away from the woods, lest trouble find them.

Chen Dong’s expression was grim, his knuckles white around the bow. Gritting his teeth, he stepped toward the woods.

“Dong, what are you doing?” the boy behind him asked, his face paling as he watched Chen Dong approach the trees. But remembering that Chen Dong was the village chief’s grandson and the most talented youth in the village, he steeled himself and followed.

Within the woods, starlight filtered through the leaves, casting shifting shadows.

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A lone figure sat cross-legged, breathing in sync with the flickering starlight, quietly drawing in the spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

He was Mo Fan, the boy condemned by the villagers and sentenced by the healer to die within seven days. Yet he had survived more than half a month here, the sores on his body showing no sign of healing.

Days had passed, but death had not come as Old Wang predicted. Instead, after days of breathing and meditation, Mo Fan felt his vitality grow stronger.

The mountain air was fresh, and the starry sky was breathtaking. Mo Fan had come to love this place, especially the banks of the stream where the spiritual energy was richest. Here, he could absorb and refine the energy while listening to the gentle murmur of water.

He was a pitiful soul, abandoned by his parents as a child and raised by a kindly old man from the village. After his guardian died when he was nine, he lived alone for three years, until, by some cruel twist of fate, he developed this cursed disease and was banished to the mountains.

As a child, Mo Fan had listened to his grandfather tell stories of cultivation. To become a cultivator, one must first open an inner domain—the Desolate Domain—within the lower abdomen. After establishing this domain, one could draw in external forces to temper the body, forging it into a treasure. This process, called Body Tempering, was the first great threshold in cultivation.

Body Tempering began with refining the three burners, progressing to skin of bronze and bones of iron, and finally to the Supreme State of Myriad Forms. These were divided into three stages: Mortal Body, Bone Body, and Supreme State.

After Body Tempering, the energy within would condense into a personal core in the lower abdomen, and the spiritual energy drawn in would transform into true energy, ready to be wielded at a thought.

For years, under his grandfather’s guidance, Mo Fan had practiced breathing techniques, hoping to open his domain and become someone admired like Chen Dong, the chief’s grandson.

But after more than a decade, he had yet to open his domain and failed repeatedly. It was as if there was a leak within his body; whenever he gathered spiritual energy in his lower abdomen, it would dissipate inexplicably.

This had gone on for more than ten years. When his grandfather was alive, Mo Fan had asked him about it, but never received an answer.

With a sigh, Mo Fan exhaled impure breath, purifying the energy within him, making it more refined and substantial. He habitually checked the emptiness in his lower abdomen, always hoping that, after one session, there would finally be a wellspring of energy instead of emptiness.

He gazed up at the sparse, twinkling stars scattered across the sky, feeling a peace he had never known. The stream’s gentle song and the cool breeze added a deeper calm to the night.

This was his own piece of sky, with no one else around.

Rustling sounds drifted through the woods as a few yellow leaves fell into the stream, carried away by the current to places unknown.

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Watching the leaves carried away by the water, Mo Fan felt a pang in his heart. This was not a place where he could remain forever; one day, he too would have to leave and make his way in the wider world.

In his hazy memories, he recalled having a younger sister named Mo Yi. When he was three, an old woman took her away from the Village of Divine Tombs.

The memory that hurt most was seeing the little girl dragged away, sobbing, reaching back and crying, “Brother, brother, you must come find Xiao Yi. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Xiao Yi, I will find you,” Mo Fan murmured, pulling a jade pendant from his clothes. Delicate lines on the pendant formed four tiny characters: Never Forget, Never Lose.

On the reverse were two names: Fan and Yi.

He held the pendant tightly for a long time before reluctantly tucking it back into his clothes.

Finding his sister would not be easy. With his current condition, even leaving the Azure Lotus Mountains seemed impossible, let alone seeking out his family.

Besides, in his present state—hopeless of ever opening his domain, and covered in poisonous sores—he would be despised wherever he went.

For now, the most important thing was finding a way to cure his disease. Only with a face he could show the world would he be able to act freely and achieve twice the result with half the effort.

He had made up his mind: in the morning, he would climb another mountain in search of the legendary spirit herbs said to grow there, which might cure his affliction.

If that failed, even if the deep mountains were full of fierce beasts, he would risk it all.

Looking up at the endless stars, Mo Fan silently prayed for a smooth journey in search of medicine.

Rustling—rustling.

Suddenly, sounds came from behind. Mo Fan spun around and shouted, “Who’s there?”