Chapter One: The Gate of Celestial Capital

“Kill!”

“They have severed the path ahead; immortality is now forever beyond reach. I have swept across this world, unmatched, invincible—how could I let the pursuit of immortality stop me? No matter, let those people fall for me!”

Space twisted in chaos, currents of primordial force ravaged the sky, distorting time and space itself—this was a broken battlefield, a place wholly inhospitable to life.

Countless corpses lay scattered, exuding formidable auras; these had all been unrivaled powers, yet now lay fallen here, their bodies torn asunder.

“What is immortality? Let those selfish, self-serving men perish! Let my ravaged body pave a flawless world for those to come. If only you are strong enough, anyone may attain immortality. Those petty souls deserve to fall!”

An invincible being howled to the sky. His power was boundless—his entire form forged from divine light, his flesh honed to the utmost extreme. He traversed the void, shattered worlds with ease; yet now, he was battered and exhausted, his radiance faded, his body nearly destroyed by relentless assault. But his will only grew more indomitable, as though it would annihilate the entire battlefield.

Yet he was not the only supreme existence here. Shadows flickered—eight peerless powers emerged, cleaving the heavens, piercing through the vast Ninefold Skies. They unleashed their might toward a distant realm—rumored to be the Celestial Heaven itself, home to invincible beings who looked down on all, basking in the worship of mortals, reigning with absolute dominance.

“They are too selfish—why would they sever our path forward? I cannot accept this! This time, I will shatter that realm, make those petty souls tremble!”

Someone roared, his body blazing with light, charging straight into that space, fearless and resolute, undeterred even by death.

At that moment, a dazzling golden radiance descended from the heavens. Eleven figures stood atop the boundless sky, stationed at the borders of the Celestial Heaven. They were truly fearsome, invincible in their advance, suppressing all of humanity with unrivaled might.

The most brutal battle erupted, engulfing everything—nothing was left behind. In the end, a final beam of brilliant gold shot forth, vanishing between heaven and earth. The divine kingdom was thrown into great turmoil, but slowly faded, dissolving utterly from this world.

“This time, we have lost…”

“How tragic…”

“Xingtian dances with shield and axe, his blood soaking the earth. With my body, I open a path to the heavens, slaying all the gods…”

“Time and space reversed, all returns to the origin…”

…

“Ah!”

Lin Fan woke with a start, springing upright, his entire body slick with cold sweat. After only a few breaths, he managed to regain his composure.

“Another nightmare,” he muttered, stretching lazily. He was rather thin, his clothes worn and meager; compared to an ordinary fifteen-year-old boy, he fell far short. Dressed in a plain blue tunic and cap, he looked every bit the humble servant.

He had lived here since childhood, taken in by an old man—though the old man himself was merely a menial at the Heavenly Capital Sect, tasked with feeding the wild beasts. Later, during one feeding, the old man was devoured by a beast, leaving Lin Fan utterly alone and inheriting the old man's role.

The Heavenly Capital Sect was not particularly mighty, yet it held some repute within the Great Jin Kingdom. The empire comprised nine provinces, eighteen territories, thirty-six counties, and seventy-two cities—the sect was a powerful force within the Tianwu Territory.

Within the sect, strong cultivators abounded—even the lowest outer disciples were beyond Lin Fan’s reach, requiring him to bow and scrape before them.

“In the early morning, outer disciples practice their boxing. I’ve been secretly observing for some time; though I haven’t grasped the essence, I feel my body growing stronger. As expected of a sect—just a basic boxing style can temper the body. If only I had the chance to become a disciple of the Heavenly Capital Sect…”

Rising, Lin Fan tucked a small shard of stone into his breast. The old man had picked it up when he found Lin Fan; after much study, Lin Fan believed it was once part of a statue, now broken. He always carried it with him, for the old man had said it might hold the secret of his parents’ fate.

Though Lin Fan’s origins were humble, he refused to accept a life of mediocrity. A month ago, he discovered a passage leading directly to the plaza where the outer disciples practiced their boxing. Driven by resolve despite the risk of being caught as a thief, he began to secretly learn.

This was no small danger. Every sect fiercely guarded its teachings—even the outer disciples’ boxing was tightly controlled, forbidden to all but disciples. Anyone else caught learning would be beaten or killed. This alone demonstrated Lin Fan’s audacity.

Cultivation was difficult without a master’s guidance, but Lin Fan’s talent was remarkable, his comprehension keen.

At present, he had reached the first level of the Flesh Tempering Realm, his strength reaching a hundred catties. Yet compared to others his age, he lagged far behind.

At fifteen, many outer disciples were already at the fifth level, their strength exceeding a thousand catties. Against them, Lin Fan was woefully outmatched.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

On a patch of open ground, three to five youths practiced martial arts.

They were all fit and agile, their fists flying like dragons. Though young, they already possessed a certain vigor—their hips and shoulders moving as one, their punches stirring the air with force.

All five were outer disciples of the Heavenly Capital Sect. Their status was not high, but compared to menials like Lin Fan, they were vastly superior. Ordinarily, they strutted about with arrogance, looking down on all. Perhaps their own origins were humble—some may have been menials themselves—but now, as outer disciples, their worth had multiplied many times over, allowing them to lord it over those like Lin Fan.

For a menial servant, the most dangerous were those outer disciples of lesser strength. Accustomed to bowing and scraping, they needed an outlet; yet with their own status not high, they could only vent their frustrations on those even lower—like the menials.

“Today marks a full month of secret learning. Though the time was brief, I’ve nearly mastered this boxing form. From now on I can practice on my own, no longer living in constant fear.”

In the distance, lurking among the dark piles of broken stones, a figure lay prone, eyes fixed on the group practicing. It was Lin Fan. He let out a quiet sigh of relief.

His talent was good—within a month, he had nearly mastered the form. As long as he continued his practice and reached the third level of Flesh Tempering, he could become an outer disciple and shed his current identity.

Of course, there were some within the sect who, despite not reaching the third level, had still become outer disciples. These individuals were the most intimidating, for they had all used connections and likely had powerful backing—provoking them was out of the question.

“This Tiger Form Boxing isn’t the best in our sect, but if you master it to the highest degree, you can unlock the body’s hidden potential and reach the tenth level of the Flesh Tempering Realm, becoming a great expert. Spend more time on this set.”

One among the five spoke up. He was eight feet tall, his back ramrod straight like a mountain, his physique brimming with indescribable strength—a clear sign of cultivation. He was, at most, seventeen, and showed some promise.

“Senior Cheng Yu is right. Tiger Form Boxing may be common, but for us, it’s more than enough. If it truly lets us reach the tenth level, we’ll repay your kindness, even if it means braving fire and blade!”

At his words, the other four immediately ceased their practice and voiced their agreement, fawning over him. They well knew Cheng Yu’s methods; more importantly, the man was unpredictable and might lash out at any moment.

Cheng Yu nodded, satisfied with their attitude. His background was impressive, his influence within the sect real—otherwise, he wouldn’t have granted them this boxing form.

“Remember, your boxing was given by me. I can just as easily take it back. If any of you dare betray me—hmph.”

At that, the four were terrified, dropping to their knees to pledge loyalty, eager to bare their hearts if they could. Cheng Yu laughed, kicked aside one kneeling before him, and strode toward the distant pile of broken stones.

“What I have given you, only I can take away. If I do not give it, don’t even think of touching it, even if it lies before your eyes—otherwise, you court death.”

Cheng Yu’s face darkened, a cold sneer twisting his features. He had already discovered Lin Fan’s presence. His palm, large as a cushion, formed the shape of a tiger’s claw and swept down over the stones, the force of his strike howling through the air.

Lin Fan sensed something amiss, but it was too late—the raging fist wind crashed over him, as if to tear him apart.