The Great Cataclysm struck without warning. One moment the world hummed with ordinary life—cities, screens, the daily grind. The next, a blinding flash tore across the sky followed by a roar that shattered the earth itself. When the chaos settled, they emerged from the void: monsters. They swarmed the planet, bringing terror humanity had never known.
But from disaster came salvation for a few. Some survivors, touched by the Cataclysm's energy, discovered spiritual power within themselves. They learned to cultivate this force, transforming into warriors capable of fighting back. Thus began the Cultivation Era, where strength became the only currency that mattered.
---
Eric spat dirt from his mouth as he pushed himself up from the training yard floor. The metallic taste lingered—a familiar reminder of his place in this new world.
"Still eating dust, are we?" Roric's voice boomed across the courtyard. "Three years since the Awakening Tests, and you're still stuck at Qi Condensation Stage 1!"
Laughter erupted from the crowd of disciples gathered around the sparring ring. Eric wiped blood from his split lip, his chest burning with more than just physical pain.
"Maybe he should quit pretending to be a cultivator," sneered Mira, one of Roric's followers. Her spiritual energy flickered visibly around her slim frame—already at Stage 4. "Some people just aren't meant for this path."
Eric steadied himself against the wooden practice dummy, his legs still shaky from the beating. "I'm not giving up."
"Giving up?" Roric stepped closer, his bulky form casting a shadow over Eric. The spiritual energy around him pulsed with the intensity of someone approaching Stage 7. "You think this is about giving up? Look around you, worm. Everyone our age is already breaking through to Foundation Establishment. You can't even sense a Qi Beast from ten paces away."
"That's not true—"
"Isn't it?" Roric's cronies formed a semicircle, trapping Eric against the dummy. "When's the last time you lasted more than thirty seconds in a real fight? When's the last time your pathetic family could afford a decent Qi pill?"
Eric's hands clenched into fists. The truth stung because Roric was right. While other families invested fortunes in their children's cultivation—rare herbs, private tutors, advanced techniques—Eric's family could barely afford the monthly fee for basic training sessions at the Cultivation Hall.
"My circumstances don't define my potential," Eric said, forcing steel into his voice.
"Don't they?" Mira examined her nails with exaggerated boredom. "Your Dantian is practically empty. Master Chen says some people just have defective spiritual cores. Maybe you're one of them."
"Master Chen never said that about me specifically."
"He didn't need to." Roric kicked dirt in Eric's direction. "Actions speak louder than words. When's the last time he called on you during lessons? When's the last time he offered you extra guidance?"
Eric opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. He couldn't remember the last time Master Chen had paid him individual attention during the overcrowded group sessions.
"Exactly," Roric continued. "You're wasting everyone's time, including your own. The village needs real cultivators, not dreamers who'll get themselves killed the moment they face a proper Qi Beast."
"I've killed Qi Beasts before."
The laughter that followed was harsh and mocking.
"Forest Striders?" Mira shook her head. "Those barely qualify as Qi Beasts. They're what children hunt for pocket money."
"At least I hunt them myself instead of paying others to do it for me," Eric shot back.
Roric's expression darkened. "What did you say?"
"You heard me. Half the 'trophies' you show off were bought from real hunters. Everyone knows your father pays mercenaries to gather monster cores for your training."
"You little—" Roric stepped forward, spiritual energy flaring around him like blue flames.
"Enough!" Master Chen's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The elderly instructor approached with measured steps, his presence immediately commanding respect. "Roric, step back. Eric, clean yourself up."
"Master Chen," Roric bowed slightly, his anger still simmering. "I was just trying to help Eric understand reality. His delusions could get people killed."
Master Chen studied both young men for a long moment. "Reality is that monsters grow stronger every day while we waste time on pointless disputes. Eric, how long have you been at Stage 1?"
"Three years, Master."
"And what have you done to advance beyond basic meditation and form practice?"
Eric hesitated. "I've studied the theoretical texts. I practice daily. I hunt in the Outer Grounds when I can afford the entry fees."
"Theory and hunting Forest Striders won't break your bottleneck," Master Chen said bluntly. "You need real combat experience, proper resources, or extraordinary circumstances. Which of these do you have access to?"
"I..." Eric's voice trailed off.
"Precisely. Roric, while your methods lack tact, your assessment isn't entirely wrong. Eric, you have determination, but determination without progress is simply stubbornness."
The words hit Eric like physical blows. Coming from Master Chen, they carried the weight of authority and truth.
"However," the master continued, "the cultivation path is unpredictable. History is full of late bloomers who eventually surpassed their peers. The question is whether you're willing to take the risks necessary to find your breakthrough."
"What kind of risks?" Eric asked.
"The dangerous kind." Master Chen's eyes were serious. "The Inner Grounds. Real monsters. Real spiritual treasures. Real chances of death."
Roric scoffed. "He'd last five minutes in the Inner Grounds."
"Perhaps. Or perhaps desperation would awaken something that comfort never could." Master Chen turned to leave, then paused. "The choice is yours, Eric. Continue as you are and remain forever at the bottom, or risk everything for a chance at something more."
As the master walked away, the crowd began to disperse. Roric lingered, his expression shifting from anger to something resembling pity.
"Take his advice," Roric said quietly. "Find another path. There's no shame in being a regular citizen. But if you keep pretending to be something you're not, you'll eventually get yourself or others killed."
After everyone left, Eric remained in the empty courtyard as shadows lengthened with the setting sun. His small pouch hung light at his side—no money for food, let alone cultivation resources. His family's expectations weighed on him like chains. They'd never spoken their disappointment aloud, but he saw it in their careful encouragement, their forced smiles when neighbors asked about his progress.
That night, Eric lay awake on his thin sleeping mat, staring at the ceiling of their small hut. Through the paper-thin walls, he could hear his parents' whispered conversation.
"—can't keep paying for his training sessions," his mother was saying. "We barely have enough for rice this month."
"He's our son," his father replied. "If there's even a small chance—"
"There is no chance, Deng. Look at him. Three years without advancement. The other parents are starting to talk. They say he's holding back the group sessions."
"Maybe if we could afford a private tutor—"
"With what money? We've already sold everything of value. Even if we found the silver, what tutor would waste time on a defective cultivator?"
Eric closed his eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. The conversation continued, each word cutting deeper than Roric's insults. When morning came, his decision was made.
Before dawn, Eric slipped from the hut carrying his only weapon—a plain ironwood staff his father had carved years ago. He avoided the main gate, taking a narrow path that led directly into the Spirit Hunting Grounds.
The forest air was thick and humid, filled with the sounds of creatures that didn't exist before the Cataclysm. Eric moved carefully, his limited spiritual senses straining to detect danger. The Outer Grounds were relatively safe, patrolled regularly and cleared of major threats. But beyond them lay the Inner Grounds, where real spiritual treasures could be found.
Master Chen's words echoed in his mind: *Risk everything for a chance at something more.*
After two hours of careful progress, Eric spotted something that made his breath catch. In a small clearing ahead, nestled among ancient roots, a flower pulsed with ethereal blue light. Even from a distance, he could feel its spiritual energy resonating with his Dantian.
A Luminescent Azure Lotus. He'd seen illustrations in forbidden texts—herbs worth more than his family's entire yearly income. Treasures that could boost spiritual energy and aid in breakthroughs. Treasures that were always heavily guarded.
Eric crept closer, his heart hammering. The lotus grew more beautiful with proximity, its petals seeming to contain liquid starlight. His Dantian, usually a stagnant pool, began to stir in response to the herb's aura.
A low growl froze his blood.
From behind a cluster of moss-covered rocks, a Forest Troll emerged. Its bark-like skin was scarred from countless battles, its eyes glowing with malevolent intelligence. Spiritual energy radiated from its massive frame—at least Stage 5, possibly higher.
"No," Eric whispered, gripping his staff with sweating palms.
The troll's gaze shifted between Eric and the lotus, clearly marking both as threats to its territory. It spoke in a voice like grinding stone: "Small human. You trespass."
Eric's mouth went dry. Forest Trolls were among the few monsters that retained speech after their transformation. They were also known for their sadistic intelligence.
"I... I was just passing through," Eric managed.
"Lies." The troll took a heavy step forward. "You seek the blue flower. Many have tried. Their bones fertilize my garden."
Eric's eyes darted around the clearing, finally noticing the white fragments scattered among the roots. Human remains.
"Please, I'll leave. I don't want any trouble."
The troll's laugh was like rocks tumbling down a cliff. "Too late for leaving. You have seen my treasure. Now you join the garden."
Eric raised his staff defensively, channeling what little spiritual energy he possessed. The pathetic aura flickered around the weapon like a dying candle.
"That is your cultivation?" The troll seemed genuinely amused. "I have eaten children with stronger spirits."
Terror and desperation warred in Eric's chest. This was it—his grand attempt at changing his fate, and he was about to become fertilizer for some monster's garden. The irony would have been funny if he weren't about to die.
The troll charged with surprising speed. Eric dove sideways, barely avoiding a clawed swipe that would have taken his head off. He rolled to his feet and struck at the creature's leg with his staff, putting every ounce of his meager power behind the blow.
The impact sent painful vibrations up his arms. The troll didn't even flinch.
"Annoying insect." A massive hand backhanded Eric across the clearing. He slammed into a tree trunk, stars exploding across his vision. Blood filled his mouth as he crumpled to the ground.
The troll approached leisurely, savoring his helplessness. "I will make it slow. Your despair will season the garden well."
Eric tried to stand but his legs wouldn't respond. His vision blurred as shock set in. This was how it ended—not in glorious battle, but broken and helpless in a monster's domain.
As darkness crept in from the edges of his sight, a strange warmth began to spread through his chest. It started as a tiny spark in his Dantian, so faint he almost missed it. But the warmth grew, becoming heat, then fire, then an inferno that consumed his awareness.
Pain exploded through every nerve as something vast and ancient stirred within him. Eric screamed, the sound raw and primal, as power beyond comprehension flooded his spiritual channels.
The troll stopped, its predatory confidence replaced by uncertainty. "What is this?"
Through the agony, Eric glimpsed something impossible. Coiled within his Dantian, scales gleaming like crystallized starlight, was a dragon. Its ancient eyes met his, and in that moment, knowledge flooded his mind—memories that weren't his own, techniques from a forgotten age, the true nature of cultivation itself.
The Dragon Spirit. A legendary entity that had slumbered for millennia, waiting for the right vessel, the right moment of absolute desperation.
Eric's spiritual energy, once a pathetic trickle, exploded into a raging torrent. His cultivation level shattered its limits—Stage 2, Stage 3, Stage 4. The breakthrough came so fast it felt like drowning in power.
He rose to his feet, his broken body now thrumming with inhuman strength. Blue spiritual energy wreathed him like living flame, and his eyes blazed with inner light.
The Forest Troll backed away, its earlier confidence evaporating. "Impossible. What are you?"
Eric looked at his hands, watching spiritual energy dance across his skin. When he spoke, his voice carried harmonics that made the air itself vibrate: "I am what I was always meant to be."
The troll let out a shriek of terror and fled, crashing through the undergrowth in its haste to escape.
Eric turned to the Luminescent Azure Lotus. With a mere thought, the precious herb floated to his hand, its spiritual essence absorbed into his transformed Dantian. He no longer needed its power—the Dragon Spirit had transcended anything such treasures could offer.
Standing in the clearing where he'd nearly died, Eric felt the dragon's presence like a second heartbeat. The weak, desperate boy was gone. In his place stood something new, something powerful.
Something that would never taste dirt again.