The moon hung in the sky like a silver disc, flanked by a sea of stars.
At the summit of a cliff, Wei Lang lay on his back in the cool grass, a single green blade tucked between his lips. He chewed it slowly, letting a faint bitterness spread across his tongue.
He raised a pale hand, holding it up to the sky. The moon’s brilliance was fractured by his fingers, spilling through the gaps in silver streams. He gazed at the colossal lunar sphere, his eyes distant.
“Ai…” A soft sigh escaped him as he recalled the afternoon’s testing. He lazily dropped his hand, lacing both behind his head and staring blankly into the night.
“Fifteen years already, huh?” The quiet murmur seemed to startle the silence around him.
In the depths of his mind, Wei Lang held a secret that was his alone: he was not from this world. To be precise, his soul was not. It came from a deep blue planet called Canglan Planet. He had no explanation for the strange twist of fate that had brought him here, but after years of living on this new world, he had slowly come to accept it. He had crossed over.
As he grew, so did his understanding of this new home.
This land was known as the Dou Qi Continent. Here, tales of dazzling magic were scarce. Instead, the absolute center of existence was Dou Qi.
Through the tireless efforts of countless generations, the cultivation of Dou Qi had been refined to an art, a science, a way of life. It was so deeply woven into the fabric of society that it was as essential as air and water, utterly irreplaceable.
As the understanding of Dou Qi deepened, so too did its classifications. After systematic analysis, cultivation methods were divided into four great classes: Tian, Di, Xuan, and Huang.
Each class was further subdivided into Beginner, Medium, and High ranks.
The cultivation technique a person practiced directly determined their future strength. Someone practicing a Xuan-class Medium-rank technique would naturally possess a stronger, purer Dou Qi than someone practicing a Huang-class High-rank one.
On the Dou Qi Continent, a person’s power was generally measured by three criteria.
First, and most important, was one’s personal cultivation level. A one-star Dou Zhe, even if they were handed a legendary Tian-class High-rank technique, could never defeat a master who had reached a higher realm using only a Huang-class one.
Second was the rank of their cultivation method. Between two opponents of equal personal strength, the one with the superior method would have a decisive advantage.
Last was Dou Technique.
Dou Techniques were specialized skills for manipulating Dou Qi in combat. Like cultivation methods, they were also classified as Tian, Di, Xuan, and Huang.
While the continent was saturated with Dou Qi itself, Dou Techniques were another matter. Most people only ever had access to common Huang-class techniques. To acquire anything more advanced, one typically had to join a powerful sect or enroll in a specialized academy.
Of course, fortune sometimes smiled on the lucky. Some stumbled upon the legacy of a past master; others found techniques that were uniquely compatible with their own attributes. These individuals often possessed a combat ability that exceeded their peers.
Based on these three pillars—personal level, cultivation method, and Dou Technique—one could determine the strong from the weak. In short, acquiring a high-level cultivation method or Dou Technique could grant a person immeasurable future benefits.
For a commoner, however, such high-level techniques were nearly impossible to obtain. The only ones publicly available were of the most ordinary Huang class. Larger clans and minor sects might hold Xuan-class techniques as their treasured secrets. In Wei Lang’s own clan, the ultimate technique was a wind-attribute Xuan-class Medium-rank Dou Technique called the Lion Wind Strike, a skill reserved exclusively for the clan leader.
Above the Xuan class was the Di class. Techniques of that caliber were the exclusive domain of colossal, nation-level powers.
As for the Tian class, none had been seen on the continent for a hundred years.
As stated, it was as hard for an ordinary person to obtain a high-level technique as it was to climb to heaven. But nothing was absolute. The Dou Qi Continent was vast, home to countless peoples. In the north were the so-called ‘Unbeatable’ tribes who fused their souls with wild beasts, transforming into terrifying barbarians. In the south lived the cunning and elegant high-beast spirit clans, not to mention the strange and infamous peoples of the underworld.
Given the sheer breadth of the continent, it was inevitable that a nameless person might occasionally stumble upon a miracle and rise to power. Some were simply bound by fate to discover great things. There was a famous saying on the Dou Qi Continent: If you fall off a cliff, do not despair. Take two steps forward; you may find you have become stronger than ever before.
Of course, while the saying wasn't entirely false, the continent's long history was not filled with tales of people getting strong by random chance.
For every legend, there were countless others who, in their desperate search for skills and techniques in dangerous places, returned with nothing but broken bones.
All in all, this was a continent brimming with both mystery and miracles.
To even be granted access to a clan’s vault of Dou Qi techniques, one had to first become a true Dou Zhe. For the current Wei Lang, that goal seemed impossibly distant.
He spat the blade of grass from his mouth, leaping to his feet with a surge of frustration. He stared up at the indifferent stars, his face twisted in a silent scream before he finally let it out. "God damn it! How did it come to this?"
In his past life, Wei Lang had been painfully average. Wealth, fame, and love had been parallel lines that never once intersected with his own. But upon arriving in this world, he had been given a gift. Possessing the soul of a second life, his spiritual strength was far greater than that of his peers.
It was a known fact on the Dou Qi Continent that one’s spiritual essence was determined at birth. While it might strengthen slightly with age, there were no known methods to truly cultivate it.
It was this powerful spirit that had been the foundation of his talent, earning him the reputation of a bona fide genius.
Any normal person, suddenly blessed with the chance to become a celebrated prodigy, would find it impossible to resist the allure. For someone like Wei Lang, who had known only mediocrity, the temptation was overwhelming the moment he began cultivating Dou Zhi Qi. He certainly hadn't chosen to hide his brilliance.
And if not for the accident, perhaps Wei Lang would have continued to soar under the banner of ‘genius’. But at the age of eleven, that title was ripped away from him. Overnight, a genius became trash.
After his raw shout echoed into the night, Wei Lang’s frenzied energy subsided, his expression turning grim once more. No amount of rage could bring back the power he had lost.
Shaking his head bitterly, Wei Lang felt a wave of misery wash over him. He had no idea what was wrong with his body. On the surface, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. His spirit continued to grow stronger with age, and his speed at absorbing Dou Zhi Qi was extraordinary, even faster than his peak from years ago. By all rights, he should be a peerless talent. And yet, all the Dou Zhi Qi he painstakingly drew into his body would vanish without a trace, as if it had never been there at all. The constant failure had crushed his self-esteem, leaving him in a state of perpetual despair.
Taking another deep breath to steady himself, Wei Lang raised his hand. On his finger was a simple black ring, crafted from some unknown material and etched with faint markings. It was the only thing his mother had left him before she passed away. He had worn it since he was four, for eleven years now. It was his most precious possession. He rubbed the smooth surface of the ring. "These past few years, I’ve really let you down, Mother," he whispered.
Sighing, Wei Lang stood up and turned toward the dark woods behind him. "Father, why are you here?"
Though his Dou Zhi Qi was only at the third stage, his spiritual perception was as keen as a five-star Dou Zhe’s, perhaps even sharper. As his thoughts had turned to his mother, he’d sensed a subtle disturbance from the trees.
"Heh, Lang Er. It's so late. What are you still doing out here?" After a moment’s silence, a gentle voice emerged from the darkness.
The leaves rustled, and a middle-aged man stepped out with a broad smile. His gaze locked onto his son, who stood bathed in the soft moonlight.
The man wore a fine grey tunic and carried himself with an air of quiet dignity. This was the head of the Wei Clan and Wei Lang’s father, a five-star Dou Shi: Wei Zhan.
"Father, why aren't you resting?" Wei Lang’s own smile deepened at the sight of him. Although he carried the memories of another life, from the moment he was born into this one, this man had shown him nothing but love. When he had fallen from grace, that love had only grown stronger. It was a warmth that had long since settled deep in Wei Lang’s heart, and he fully recognized this man as his father.
"Lang Er, are you still thinking about what happened this afternoon?" Wei Zhan took a step closer, his smile warm.
"Haha, what’s there to think about? It was what I expected," Wei Lang said, shrugging, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Ai…" Looking at his son's young, yet troubled face, Wei Zhan sighed. They stood in silence for a moment before he spoke again. "Lang Er, you’re fifteen now, aren’t you?"
"Yes, Father."
"Only one more year… until you must attend the Adulthood Ceremony," Wei Zhan said, his voice heavy.
"Yes, Father. One year left." Wei Lang’s hands tightened into fists at his sides. He knew exactly what the Adulthood Ceremony signified. Once it passed, if he had not met the clan's cultivation standards, he would lose his core status. He would be sent to manage one of the clan's remote properties, a menial post for the rest of his life. It was an iron-clad rule of the clan, one that not even the leader could bend.
If a clan member failed to become a Dou Zhe by the age of twenty-five, they were effectively abandoned.
"I’m sorry, Lang Er. If you don't reach the seventh stage of Dou Zhi Qi by this time next year, my hands will be tied. In this clan, my word is not law. Those old geezers are just waiting for me to make a mistake…" Wei Zhan looked at his son’s calm expression, his voice thick with guilt.
"Father, I will keep working hard. One year from now, I will reach the seventh stage!" Wei Lang said, his voice full of a confidence he didn't feel.
Four stages in one year? Wei Lang thought bitterly, even as he tried to reassure his father. For the me of the past, that might have been possible. But now… what hope do I have?
Knowing his son’s situation all too well, Wei Zhan could only sigh again. He was keenly aware of how difficult a feat that would be. He reached out and gently patted Wei Lang's head. "It's getting late. Go back and get some rest. We have a guest arriving tomorrow, and you shouldn’t miss the reception."
"A guest? Who?" Wei Lang asked, his curiosity piqued.
"You'll find out tomorrow." Wei Zhan gave his son a mysterious wink before turning and disappearing back into the woods, leaving Wei Lang alone once more.
"Don't worry, Father. I'll work hard," Wei Lang whispered, raising his head to the moon as his thumb stroked the simple ring on his finger.
As his head tilted up, the black ring on his finger suddenly pulsed with a faint, mysterious glow. It vanished in an instant.