The night was dark, the sky split open with flashes of lightning, and the rain poured down like an unrelenting waterfall. The wind howled through the mountains, shaking the trees and sending leaves flying like shattered glass.
Two cultivators stood in the middle of a ruined temple, their robes soaked, their eyes locked in fierce determination. One was Li Wei, a warrior of the Heavenly Sword Sect, his blade gleaming with blue spiritual energy. The other was Mo Tian, a rogue cultivator, his fists crackling with dark lightning.
"Tonight, only one of us will leave this place alive," Mo Tian growled, his voice barely audible over the storm.
Li Wei tightened his grip on his sword. "Your evil ends here."
Without warning, Mo Tian launched forward, his fist striking like a thunderbolt. Li Wei barely dodged, countering with a swift slash. Sparks flew as their energies collided, sending shockwaves rippling through the air.
The battle raged on, each strike more violent than the last. The ground beneath them cracked, the wind turned into a raging tempest, and the rain became a storm of knives.
Then, Mo Tian roared, gathering all his energy into a single attack. "Demon's Wrath!" he bellowed, unleashing a massive wave of dark energy.
Li Wei's eyes widened. There was no time to escape. He raised his sword and channeled his entire cultivation into a final counterattack.
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the night like a second sun. When the dust settled, one figure lay on the ground, motionless.
Li Wei staggered forward, his vision blurry, his body barely holding together. Mo Tian had fallen, his power extinguished.
As the storm began to calm, Li Wei sheathed his sword and turned away. The battle was over.
But he knew… this was only the beginning.
The rain had slowed, but the cold wind still howled through the mountains. Li Wei clutched his bleeding side as he staggered into the dense forest. His body ached, his spiritual energy nearly depleted. Every step sent waves of pain through him, but he refused to fall.
He found shelter beneath an ancient tree, its thick branches shielding him from the rain. Sitting down, he focused on his breathing, circulating what little energy he had left to slow the bleeding. His mind swam with exhaustion, and before he knew it, darkness took him.
By the time morning came, the storm had passed. The golden sun peeked through the trees, casting light on Li Wei's weary face. He forced himself to stand, leaning against the tree for support. The journey back to his sect was long, but he had no choice.
With sheer determination, he made his way through the forest, each step slow and painful. Hours passed before he finally saw the towering gates of the Heavenly Sword Sect.
The guards gasped at his battered form and rushed forward. "Senior Brother Li!" one of them called out.
Li Wei gave a weak smile before his vision blurred, and he collapsed.
The last thing he heard before darkness took him again was the frantic voices of his fellow disciples calling for the elders.
Li Wei lay unconscious in his room, his face pale, his breathing shallow. The elder, Grandmaster Yan, sat beside him, carefully circulating his spiritual energy to stabilize his disciple's shattered meridians. His expression was grim.
Just then, the door creaked open. A tall, imposing figure stepped in—Sect Master Liu Cheng. His long white robes flowed like water, his sharp eyes filled with concern.
"How is he?" the sect master asked.
Grandmaster Yan let out a slow sigh. "His life is no longer in danger," he said. "But... his cultivation has collapsed. His dantian is broken, his meridians shattered beyond repair."
Liu Cheng's fingers clenched behind his back. A promising genius, reduced to this. "Are you saying… he has become crippled?"
The elder nodded. "Unless a miracle happens, he will never cultivate again."
Silence filled the room, heavy like a storm before lightning.
Just then, Li Wei stirred. His fingers twitched, his breathing quickened. Then, with a sharp gasp, his eyes snapped open. He looked around, confusion in his gaze. "Master… Elder Yan… what happened?"
Liu Cheng hesitated before answering. "You are awake. That is good."
Li Wei tried to sit up but winced, pain shooting through his body. Something felt… wrong. His internal energy—his cultivation—was missing. A cold dread spread through him.
"Elder Yan," he said slowly, "why… why can't I feel my cultivation?"
The elder looked away. "Li Wei… your meridians were too badly damaged. Your cultivation has…" He paused before saying the words. "...collapsed."
Li Wei froze. His heart pounded. No. It couldn't be.
A cultivator without cultivation was no better than a crippled man. His entire life, his dreams, his future—gone.
A heavy silence followed, broken only by the distant chirping of birds outside.
Then, Li Wei clenched his fists. He would not accept this fate.
He couldn't.
No matter what, he would find a way to rise again.
Days passed, each one heavier than the last. Li Wei tried everything—circulating his remaining energy, meditating for hours, even attempting to absorb spiritual qi—but nothing worked. His dantian remained shattered, his meridians broken beyond repair.
Whispers spread throughout the sect.
"The great Li Wei... crippled."
"He was once a prodigy, but now? He's nothing."
"Even if he recovers, without cultivation, he is just an ordinary man."
He ignored them. Or at least, he tried to.
One evening, unable to sleep, Li Wei wandered near the sect's abandoned library, an old structure half-buried beneath the mountain. Weeds grew wildly around it, and most disciples had long forgotten about this place.
As he walked past, something strange caught his eye. A piece of aged paper lay beneath the stone steps, partially buried under dirt and leaves. The edges were tattered, as if it had been here for centuries.
Curious, he picked it up and dusted it off. There were strange symbols on it—ancient, mysterious. He squinted, trying to read, but the script was unlike anything he had ever seen.
But then—
His mind trembled.
The symbols glowed faintly, as if alive. A force he could not understand surged into his consciousness. Mantras. Foreign, powerful, and... otherworldly. They didn't belong to this mortal realm.
The moment he focused on them, they etched themselves directly into his mind.
His head throbbed, and he staggered backward. These weren't just words; they carried something far beyond normal cultivation techniques.
Something ancient.
Something forbidden.
Something... not meant for this world.
His breathing grew rapid. His crippled body should not have been able to sense energy anymore, yet—he could feel it. A faint, strange energy coursing through his veins, different from spiritual qi, different from anything he had ever known.
Was this… his chance?
Li Wei clenched his fists. He didn't know what this was, but one thing was certain—his journey was far from over.
He would rise again. No matter what.
In a dark, secluded chamber deep within the mountains, two figures stood under the dim glow of a flickering lantern. Shadows danced on the walls as a cold wind whistled through the cracks in the stone.
The younger man, his face tense with anxiety, clenched his fists. "Father, we sent our men to kill him… but they were useless. Somehow, he survived. And now, I don't know how, but he's crippled." His voice wavered. "But you know… he had personally asked us to kill him. We failed. I don't know what he will do to us if he ever recovers."
The older man, draped in a long black robe, remained silent for a moment. His face was partially hidden in the darkness, but his cold eyes gleamed with deep calculation. He slowly exhaled, the air heavy with his presence.
"Li Wei…" the older man muttered, his voice like a whisper in the wind. "Even crippled, that boy is dangerous."
The younger man swallowed hard. "But without cultivation, he's nothing now."
The older man let out a dry chuckle. "Do you think a mere loss of cultivation can truly destroy someone like him? His will is too strong. If he's alive… he will rise again."
A chilling silence filled the air.
"What should we do?" the younger man asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The older man turned, his robes swaying like the tide of an approaching storm. "We should have killed him when we had the chance. Now… we must watch carefully. If he shows even the slightest sign of regaining his power, we will erase him before he becomes a threat again."
The younger man hesitated. "But… what if he never recovers?"
The older man's lips curled into a dark smile. "Then fate has already done our work for us."
The lantern flickered, and the darkness swallowed them whole.
---
Meanwhile, back at the Heavenly Sword Sect, Li Wei sat alone in his room, the mysterious mantras still burning in his mind. A strange energy pulsed within him, different from anything he had ever felt before.
Unknown to his enemies, the storm was not over.
It was only just beginning.