The road was long, winding through countless curves and steep ascents. Beyond the bounds of the main path, the terrain was rugged and unfathomably deep. Constructing such a road must have demanded immense time and resources.
My memories of this place are faint, Feng Qi thought. I only passed through here once with my mother. We were locked inside a carriage that felt more like a cage.
At that moment, fear assaulted Feng Qi's heart—sorrow, despair, everything consumed him. He had been only twelve years old, having just lost his beloved father and his little sister.
"Everything happened so fast…"
All the wealth his father had left behind was confiscated without hesitation. Soon after, mother and son were forced to live on Feng Zongyuan's estate. While his mother served the lady of the house, Feng Qi was sent to work the fields at an age far too young.
Watching his mother struggle to support them both, Feng Qi began working as a laborer in the village at thirteen. That life continued unbroken until just a few weeks ago, shortly after he turned seventeen.
"It feels like a birthday gift from the heavens."A radiant smile lingered on his face.
Originally, he had planned to remain in the village until he reached his current level of strength—the Fourth Layer of Body Refinement—before setting out on his own path. Yet everything had unfolded so quickly that he still struggled to believe he was truly here. In just two weeks, he had endured countless hardships, confronted demonic beasts, and nearly died more than once.
"This is fate… the life I always dreamed of," he murmured.
"Fate? I don't quite understand," the old man said, intrigued by the frequent smiles of the young man known as Zhao Long.
"Ah… how should I put it…"
Realizing he had spoken aloud, Feng Qi answered honestly.
"I believe everyone has a destiny. It's difficult to know exactly what it is, but you can feel it with your heart."
"Can something like that truly be understood through the heart?"
"I'm not sure… but when someone feels so free, so happy, so calm—even when the road ahead is filled with challenges—then that path is truly their destiny."
"Well… that does make sense. You have sharp insight, young man."
"Thank you."
"I believe I, too, have lived my own destiny," the old man continued. "When I was born, my parents had nothing—nothing but perseverance, courage, and necessity. Our home held only a single worn mattress."
Feng Qi listened intently, the words heavy with lived experience.
"There were no blankets, no pillows—only a few clay pots. Yet my father's persistence ensured that our family always had food. Despite our poverty, I never truly starved."
Feng Qi looked at him with the eyes of a curious child, like a grandson listening to his grandfather's old stories.
"My father was hardworking… kind—a good husband and a good father. Sometimes I hear children complain about their parents because they can't afford fancy food, claiming they're starving. They don't know what real hunger is. Those born poor face hardship, yes—but with courage, hunger does not have to define their lives."
"I starved," Feng Qi said quietly. "I truly starved. There were times I had to wander just to find something to eat. After my parents died, I had no one. Everyone around me was as poor as I was—if I took from them, they would be the ones to starve."
The old man looked at him in silence, sorrow filling his eyes.
"Only those who have truly starved understand what it means," Yang Chen said softly. "I, too, was once a child—stubborn and foolish. Even now, it pains me to remember the words I once said to my father. Do you know what he told me?"
Feng Qi remained silent.
"He said: 'I did my best.'"
Suddenly, Feng Qi remembered his own father—his integrity, his righteousness, his love. A tear slid down his cheek. He turned away, gazing at the passing landscape.
Yang Chen understood and remained silent for a long time.
Hatred burned within Feng Qi—hatred for the Feng Clan—but the sorrow for his lost family was just as deep. Along the road, his thoughts wandered endlessly. At times, he imagined himself becoming a god, reviving his family. It seemed foolish… yet perhaps not impossible.
After an entire day of travel, towering structures appeared ahead. As they drew closer, houses and towers took shape.
It was Qingyao City.
From atop the hill along the road, the city sprawled before them, encircled by endless mountains on the horizon.
"Finally…"
Feng Qi's heart pounded. He had been born here, raised here until the age of twelve. His mother's relatives—uncles and cousins—still lived within the city. His maternal grandparents had been informed long ago.
Even so, Feng Qi had no intention of visiting them—not out of resentment, but for their safety. They were ordinary people, lacking talent for cultivation or governance. Most lived as servants; a few ran small businesses.
He narrowed his eyes as he looked upon the city. His expression was far from pleasant. He had no desire to be bound to this place—it reminded him too much of his family, of a time when life was still warm.
In his heart, he calculated his next steps:
First—obtain advanced techniques.Second—secure cultivation resources.Third—enter a sect to learn about the world, life, the laws, and cultivation.
After reaching Qi Refinement, he would roam the world in search of knowledge and power. Not even the Chenyang Empire would bind him. He would belong to no sect, no force.
His spirit would be free.His fortune would be earned through sacrifice.
Suddenly, Feng Qi's eyes darkened—not with killing intent, nor ambition to rule—but with the desire to transcend.
To be free.
"Those are powerful eyes," Yang Chen said calmly.
He looked at the young man beside him as though gazing upon the world itself.
"I believe your destiny… is to live."
Within the city, cultivators were everywhere. Some soared through the skies using artifacts or pure cultivation. Towers, pavilions, and clan temples rose majestically. Wide, clean streets buzzed with activity.
Carriages transporting spiritual goods passed frequently, each guarded by warriors ready to kill anyone who dared approach. Others carried cultivators unable to fly—many belonging to wealthy and influential figures, crafted from jade or gilded with gold. One's status was clearly reflected in their carriage.
Contrary to expectations, the city was filled with trees and gardens—some nourished by Qi, others merely ornamental. In the Spiritual Gardens, countless herbs and flowers emitted visible auras. The Vital Purity Spiritual Root and the Spiritual Blood Flower Feng Qi possessed would be priceless treasures here.
A stream ran through Qingyao from end to end, as though the city itself had been built around it. Some powerful clans even possessed spiritual lakes within their courtyards, brimming with Spiritual Energy.
The skies were crowded with cultivators riding flying swords, spiritual carriages, winged beasts, and more. A rare few flew without assistance—clearly elites of the Core Formation Realm.
The air itself vibrated with Qi.
Above certain palaces and temples, strange clouds hovered—Qi Clouds, belonging only to the most powerful clans of the city.
Upon reaching the commercial district, Feng Qi saw everything from spiritual herbs and mystical artifacts to winged beasts with unimaginable prices. Transactions were conducted using Spiritual Qi.
"So expensive…" Feng Qi murmured.
"Do you know the value of Spiritual Qi?" Yang Chen asked.
"N-not exactly, but I can tell it's extremely precious. Refining it is a long and difficult process."
"Well said. This is Qingyao—welcome."
"Thank you, Yang Chen. I'm deeply grateful for everything you've done. If fate allows it, I will repay you tenfold."
"Don't say that. Helping others is our duty to society. Without such people, many professions and resources wouldn't exist."
"I understand."
"Come visit me anytime. You can buy many things here—and earn plenty as well. It all depends on what you have to offer."
"If you ever need my help, I will gladly return the favor."
Yang Chen looked surprised, then laughed."Very well… when you become something close to a god, grant me one wish."
"Huh?"
The old man laughed like a child and went on his way.
Thus, Feng Qi finally arrived in the famed Qingyao City.
As he wandered through the streets, he observed how much the city had changed—it was richer, more vibrant. Cultivators filled the roads, from beginners to powerful experts, some whose presence he could barely perceive.
"At least Qi Condensation… perhaps even Core Formation. I must be careful."
City guards patrolled constantly—some accompanied by spiritual beasts, others clearly Qi Condensation experts.
Even a simple guard was far stronger than him.
Yet Feng Qi did not feel discouraged. He awaited an opportunity to enter a sect. He needed to prove his worth.
Near the city's center lay vast arenas—stages for tournaments, duels, beast battles, and alchemy competitions. Taverns, inns, and specialized shops lined the streets.
One courtyard drew an enormous crowd.
Feng Qi stopped.
The combatants were Qi Refinement cultivators.
One was a wild-looking man wielding twin daggers—Refined-grade artifacts capable of splitting stone. Standing opposite him was a beautiful young woman.
Silence fell.
She stepped forward lightly, her blue silk skirt fluttering, her sword gleaming with pale Qi. The madman struck wildly, chaotic and violent Qi trailing his attacks.
She evaded gracefully, countering with fluid precision—Qi slicing through the air.
Leaves danced.The wind stirred her robes.
It was not merely a battle.
It was a dance.
Feng Qi's eyes widened.
Beautiful.
The woman won effortlessly.
The crowd erupted in awe.
And Feng Qi's heart burned with longing.
This was the path he wished to walk.