The silence of the mountain path was broken only by the rhythmic crunch of Xu Mingyan's steps on frost-hardened soil. His breath steamed in the air, curling like ghostly tendrils before vanishing into the dead forest. His robes were soaked, clinging to his thin frame as if trying to drag him down with the weight of his suffering.
No birds sang here. No insects stirred. Even the wind held its breath.
He hadn't eaten since dawn, and the stringy wild roots he'd chewed days ago had long since turned to dust in his gut. Each step was heavier than the last, driven only by stubborn resolve. In his hand, a torn and nearly illegible map trembled, smeared with blood and grime.
"The old drunk said it was north of the twin-peak gorge," Xu Mingyan muttered to himself, voice hoarse. "If that bastard lied… I'll haunt his liver."
The path narrowed sharply, funneling him into a jagged crevice between looming cliffs. A black crow observed him from above, perched on a weathered stone, its eyes like twin obsidian beads. It didn't blink.
Xu Mingyan met its gaze.
"Yeah? You judging me too? Go ahead. I've seen worse than death."
He laughed — not out of joy, but delirium. Then he kept walking.
Past the crevice, the air changed.
The forest thinned into skeletal trees, bark split open like wounds. The light dimmed. The mist clung closer now, weightier, almost intelligent — like it watched him. A pressure settled on his chest, not heavy but insistent, as if the world were whispering secrets he was too unworthy to hear.
Then, he saw it — a half-shattered monolith, slanted against a crumbling hill. Faint blue symbols danced across its cracked face, flickering like candle flames. As Xu Mingyan approached, a sharp sting jabbed at the edge of his consciousness.
"...A warding stone... or a boundary marker?"
He reached out and touched it.
The world shivered.
The mist parted with a soundless wail, revealing a winding staircase carved into the side of a distant mountain. It stretched upward, coiling like a serpent of stone toward the heavens. Faint bell chimes echoed — once… twice.
His eyes widened.
"So it's real."
The Crimson Soul Sect did not roll out a red carpet.
At the base of the stone staircase, a dozen disciples stood guard in dark crimson robes, weapons crossed. Their expressions were unreadable — but their eyes were not. Xu Mingyan knew those looks. He had worn them once in the mirror — hollow, hungry, cruel.
One stepped forward.
"Name," he said coldly, gaze sliding down Mingyan's tattered appearance with disdain.
"Xu Mingyan. I seek entrance into the Crimson Soul Sect."
A snort. A snicker. Then laughter — cruel and loud.
"Are we taking in beggars now?"
"You lost your village or your brain, runt?"
"I have spirit roots."
The laughter doubled.
"So do pigs."
"I have... nowhere else," he said quietly.
"Then you'll die here," one sneered, raising his spear.
But before the weapon could swing, a presence descended.
Cold. Dry. Old as dust.
An elder emerged from the stairway. His eyes were pale, sunken deep into a face that looked carved from dried leather. His robe bore the sect's sigil — a crimson flame devouring a soul.
The disciples froze.
The elder's voice was like autumn leaves scraped by wind.
"Let him pass."
"But he—"
"He walks with the scent of the soul-broken. Such ones… belong to us."
The disciples stepped aside, faces expressionless. Xu Mingyan walked through them without a word, without a glance.
But he remembered their faces.
He remembered everything.
The Crimson Soul Sect was not what stories promised. It was not grandeur or glory — it was rot wrapped in crimson silk.
The buildings leaned like they might collapse under their own shame. The training fields were cracked, and blood stained the stones. There was no peace here. Only the constant tension of survival.
Disciples trained not to cultivate enlightenment — but to outlive each other.
Food was scarce. Water was worse. Sleep? Hah.
Xu Mingyan was thrown into the outermost ring of the outer sect — a half-collapsed hut that leaned dangerously over a cliff. His only company was a blind pig-spirit used to generate compost, though mostly it just screamed at random intervals.
He named it Yun'er out of spite.
Each morning, he climbed the Stair of Ash — a jagged, crumbling path leading toward the Soul Furnace, where disciples offered blood and spirit energy in exchange for cultivation breakthroughs.
Xu Mingyan had no pills. No techniques. No master. He had only stolen moments.
He watched silently during night training sessions. Memorized chants whispered behind closed doors. Studied diagrams abandoned in fire trials. He stole knowledge like a starving wolf might gnaw bones — desperate and cunning.
The Soul Furnace rejected him at first. He had no offering. The sect's law was clear — no blood, no breakthrough.
So, he gave it something else.
His pain.
On the seventh night, the shard in his pocket pulsed.
He had forgotten it — the jagged, bloodied fragment he'd dug from his ruined home. It had whispered to him in dreams. Now, it called louder.
He sat cross-legged inside his hut. The mist pressed against the window like curious fingers.
The shard trembled in his palm.
"Feed me," it whispered.
Xu Mingyan didn't flinch.
"Feed you what?"
"Pain. Regret. Death."
He exhaled shakily. Closed his eyes.
He thought of his mother, stiff and cold beneath burnt rafters.
His father, bones charred in the forge he once tended.
The disciples who mocked him. The village that abandoned him.
The stone pulsed harder. His soul trembled. Something tore within him — not physically, but deeper. A wound beneath the skin of his being.
Then — silence.
When he opened his eyes, the world was different.
He could see Qi threads in the air — thin, delicate strands vibrating like spider silk.
He saw sorrow etched into rocks. Anger buried in tree roots. The hatred of the land itself.
In his hand, the shard glowed softly. It had become warm — almost alive.
And within his mind, a voice echoed — no longer whispers, but clear, ancient, resonant.
[Soulbound Shard Activated. Host Compatible. Beginning Phase I: Path of Soul Reforging.]
[Warning: No return.]
Xu Mingyan smiled, bitter and broken.
"Good. I never wanted to go back."