A City of Cultivators
Qinglong City was unlike anything Shen Ziyan had ever seen. The streets were wide and paved with black jade stones, polished to perfection, reflecting the early morning sun like mirrors. Towering buildings of white marble and dark wood loomed on either side, their rooftops adorned with golden dragon carvings.
Cultivators were everywhere.
Some walked with their robes billowing in the wind, their very presence exuding power. Others soared through the sky, their movements effortless as they bypassed the crowded streets. Vendors called out, selling spirit pills, enchanted artifacts, and rare beast materials, their wares glowing with faint energy.
This was a world ruled by the strong.
Ziyan, still following Scholar Xuan, felt completely out of place. His tunic was tattered, his hair unkempt, and his body still weak compared to the warriors striding past him with effortless grace. He tightened his grip on his bag, feeling the faint pulse of power from the golden mark on his palm.
He might be weak now—but he would not remain that way.
Scholar Xuan led him through winding streets until they reached a quiet courtyard tucked away behind the bustling market. Unlike the grand structures outside, this place was simple—a wooden tea house with a garden of ancient pine trees and a stone path leading to a modest study.
Ziyan hesitated. "This is where you live, Senior?"
The old scholar chuckled. "What? Were you expecting a palace?" He stepped inside, motioning for Ziyan to follow.
The interior was filled with scrolls and books stacked haphazardly, covering the walls and even spilling onto the floor. The scent of aged paper and ink lingered in the air.
"You seem troubled, boy." Scholar Xuan poured himself a cup of tea before settling into a chair. "Speak freely."
Ziyan took a deep breath. "Senior, you said I possess something extraordinary. What do you mean?"
The scholar sipped his tea, his eyes glinting with curiosity. "Your body is unusual. Your presence—unrefined, yet overflowing with energy. A normal mortal who has never cultivated should not feel like this." He leaned forward. "Tell me, Shen Ziyan, what happened to you?"
Ziyan hesitated. Should he trust this man?
But he needed answers.
"…I found something," he finally admitted. "A severed hand. It was ancient, covered in golden markings. When I touched it…" He clenched his fist. "It changed me."
Scholar Xuan's fingers tightened around his teacup.
"A severed hand covered in golden inscriptions?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze sharpened, as if recalling something long forgotten.
"Do you know what it is, Senior?"
The scholar sighed. "No." He placed his cup down. "But I do know one thing—if the power of a Supreme God truly lingers in you, then you are now a walking beacon in this world. And the moment the wrong people discover this…" He leaned back. "They will come for you."
Ziyan's chest tightened. He had known this, but hearing it confirmed by someone else made it real.
Scholar Xuan smiled. "That is why you must learn. You need knowledge as much as strength."
Ziyan clenched his fists. "Then… will you teach me?"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do you wish to become my disciple?"
Ziyan shook his head. "No. I don't wish to follow anyone blindly. I just need guidance."
Scholar Xuan burst into laughter. "Good answer, boy. The cultivation world is filled with masters who enslave their disciples in the name of mentorship." He stroked his beard. "Very well. I will teach you what I know."
Ziyan exhaled, a weight lifting from his shoulders.
Finally, he had a starting point.
Understanding Qi
Scholar Xuan set down his cup and pulled out a simple jade stone, its surface smooth and inscribed with golden runes. He placed it on the table.
"Before we discuss power, you must understand Qi."
Ziyan listened intently.
"In this world, everything is built upon the Three Fundamental Forces: Heavenly Qi, Earthly Qi, and Mortal Qi."
"Heavenly Qi comes from the cosmos—divine and untouchable. Gods and celestial beings wield it."
"Earthly Qi is found in the land, the rivers, the mountains—it nourishes all things, and cultivators refine it to grow stronger."
"And finally, Mortal Qi—what fuels the bodies of men and beasts."
Ziyan nodded slowly. "And cultivation is about refining Qi?"
"Precisely." Scholar Xuan tapped the jade stone. "There are nine realms of cultivation, divided into three major stages: the Mortal Stage, the Transcendent Stage, and the Celestial Stage."
"The Mortal Stage consists of three realms: Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, and Core Formation."
"The Transcendent Stage includes Nascent Soul, Soul Tribulation, and the legendary Ascension Realm."
"And those who reach the Celestial Stage—well, they are no longer bound to this world."
Ziyan absorbed every word. "Then… what stage am I in?"
Scholar Xuan studied him. "You are an anomaly. I do not sense a traditional cultivation base within you. Instead, your body is… different." He narrowed his eyes. "It is as if something has forcibly reconstructed you."
Ziyan's blood ran cold.
Was this the work of the Supreme Hand?
Scholar Xuan stroked his beard. "This could be a great blessing… or a curse. If your body has been altered to contain divine power, then normal cultivation methods may not work for you."
Ziyan took a deep breath. "Then what should I do?"
The old scholar smirked. "Simple. You must find your own path."
The Road Ahead
Ziyan left the scholar's home later that evening, his mind filled with newfound knowledge. The city outside was still alive with energy—lanterns illuminating the streets, cultivators dueling in the distance, merchants selling rare treasures under the glow of spirit lamps.
He looked down at his hand.
The golden mark was faint but present—a constant reminder of the power lurking beneath his skin.
Scholar Xuan had warned him. If the world discovered what he carried, they would come for him.
He needed to grow stronger.
He needed to master this power before it consumed him.
As he stepped deeper into the heart of Qinglong City, a single thought echoed in his mind—