The Hollow of Ashveil was a forsaken place, a smear of dust upon the sprawling plains that lay beyond the Frostpeak Mountains. No banners fluttered in its wind, no guiding lantern lit the night. Even the river that once gave life to its people had long since receded, leaving cracked earth and brittle reeds in its place.
Xu Mingyan knelt by a charred hearth in his family's ruin of a home, staring at the cold ashes gathering at the center. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted a broken bowl of stale millet to his lips. Hunger was a constant companion, but it was shame that gnawed deepest—shame at being the village's living embodiment of failure.
He had failed the Spirit Testing Ceremony three years running. Each time, his spirit root had refused to awaken, leaving him with neither elemental affinity nor the faintest glow of qi. The elders branded him a weedfit only to be trampled, a stain upon the land. The other children sneered; the adults gave him weary pity.
He set the bowl down on the cracked wooden floor, each plank moaning under his weight. Through the ragged window, pale moonlight glanced off the faded banners that once proclaimed the glory of the Flame Lotus Sect, now moth-eaten relics from a more hopeful era.
"Another year..." he whispered.
Tomorrow was the ceremony once more. The envoys of the Flame Lotus Sect would arrive at dawn, and the youth of Ashveil would flock like moths to a dying flame, desperate for a spark of destiny. Those who awakened even a sliver of spirit qi would be taken as outer disciples, given a chance to forge themselves into cultivators. Those who did not would remain bound to this land of dust.
He rose, voice hollow. "A slave or a corpse. That's what they'll call me once again.*"
In the dim light, a shadow moved behind him. His uncle, leaning heavily on a crooked staff.
"Sleep, you worthless...*" the old man rasped.
Xu Mingyan did not flinch. He had learned to armor his heart against such barbs. Instead, he met his uncle's glare with indifference.
"If I fail tomorrow," he said quietly, "I'll leave.*"
The old man's cane thudded on the floor. "Leave? You have nowhere to go, boy. You'd freeze beyond the border, or be devoured by the Eaglebeast beyond the ridge. Stay.*"
Xu Mingyan nodded, but he did not believe it. If tomorrow ended as usual, he would have nothing left to lose.
Dawn crowned the sky in bruised hues of violet and gray. The villagers—young and old—marched to the central plaza, led by two robed envoys whose banners bore the Flame Lotus Sect's emblem: a curling lotus immersed in fire.
The plaza was framed by slender spires of white stone, each carved with verses that promised transcendence and power. A great crystalline altar floated above a dais, its facets refracting the rising sun into shimmering blades of light. Its purpose was simple: to awaken spirit roots.
Standing at the back, Xu Mingyan tried to vanish into the crowd. He pulled his hood low, though it did little to disguise his hollow frame.
Children placed trembling palms on the altar's surface and gasped as the crystal flared—surging with qi, shattering into prismatic arcs that danced above their heads. Some emerged with a triumphant glow, their eyes shining with wonder. Others collapsed in despair as the crystal dimmed.
When the envoy beside the altar called his name, Xu Mingyan froze. A hush swept the crowd.
"Xu Mingyan."
There was no welcoming smile, no coaxing words. The envoy's tone was hollow, as though reading from a ledger.
His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. He stepped forward, palms itching to retreat.
He touched the altar.
A long, pregnant pause.
The crystal's surface rippled, but the ripples were as silent as a dying heartbeat. No flash of light, no surge of power.
The envoy dipped his head. "Nothing."
Snickers ran through the crowd. Xu Mingyan could taste their contempt.
Yet at that moment, the altar trembled.
At first, he thought it was a trick of the wind. Then the crystal cracked—hairline fractures spidering through its core, glowing with violet luminescence. Cold light spilled into the air like spilled wine, and for a heartbeat, the world held its breath.
The altar shattered with a sound like a thousand sighs, collapsing inward until only shards floated in a stunned hush.
Xu Mingyan stood motionless, hand still pressed against a fallen fragment.
The crowd recoiled. The envoys faltered.
Silence stretched until someone whispered, "He… broke it."
A tremor ran through the assembly. Elders whispered of omens; children scattered, eyes wide.
"Imperial tribulation..." one of the envoys murmured.
He walked backward, as though fearing the boy might shatter reality again.
The village head's son, Lin Bao, burst forward and shoved Xu Mingyan to the ground.
"You worthless peasant! How dare you."
Lin Bao's fist came down, but Xu Mingyan caught his wrist.
"Don't waste your strength."
He rose, brushing dust from his robes. He avoided Lin Bao's furious glare and stepped away.
The envoy's voice trembled now. "No spirit. Yet he shattered the altar."
Someone scoffed.
"Just a freak of misfortune."
The villagers clamored. The envoys retreated, their robes billowing like startled spirits.
Xua Mingyan wove through the chaos, mind racing.
What had happened?
He pressed the cracked shard to his palm. It was nearly weightless, but it pulsed beneath his skin—an ember of forbidden power.
And in the back of his mind, a whisper burned:
[Heaven Annoying System — Activated] [Fortune Bias: Luck-based events will slightly favor Host] [Impression Modifier: Altered perception to mask Host's potential] [Annoyance Value: Expectation disruption bonus granted]
No voice. No guide. Just facts etched in thin light.
He exhaled. "Figures."
He folded the shard into his cloak.
That night, the village burned.
Lin Bao's clan accused Xu Mingyan of blasphemy — of mocking Heaven itself. Torches were raised; pitchforks summoned. The flame lotus emblem was torn from banners, trampled.
He fled to the shrines of the old gods, seeking shelter among crumbling idols that had long since lost worshippers.
He slept beneath the roots of the Ashen Oak, a tree rumored to ward off evil spirits — an ironic fate for a boy accused of inviting heaven's wrath.
In his dreams, the altar shattered again, a silent scream echoing through his mind.
He woke with sweat-drenched sheets of moss, heart pounding.
Limbs ached. Hunger gnawed.
He rose.
Dawn brought no reprieve.
Cries of alarm and smoke trailed into the sky. The villagers had mobilized an angry mob. They would kill the boy who dared defy their gods.
Xu Mingyan stepped onto the cracked stone path that led from Ashveil to the outer province. He carried nothing but a tattered cloak and the shard of the broken altar.
Behind him, the flames consumed his former life.
In front of him: the Frostpeak Road, winding through perilous heights to the foothills where the Flame Lotus Sect's gates loomed.
They thought him worthless.
He allowed himself a crooked smile.
"Let's go annoy the heavens."
The wind howled down the mountain pass, and for a moment, the world felt alive.
As he vanished from the ashes, a faint glow pulsed in the sky.
A celestial thread, fraying at the edges.
The heavens had wasted enough time.
It was time they bled.