The rain fell without mercy.
Cold sheets of water crashed against the stone plaza of Azure Cloud Sect, washing blood into thin red streams that vanished between the cracks. Disciples stood in tight circles, robes fluttering, eyes bright with restrained excitement. Trials were meant to be dull affairs—formalities dressed as justice—but today was different.
Today, a genius was being judged.
Li Yuan knelt at the center of the plaza.
Iron chains pierced with sealing runes wrapped around his arms and torso, biting into flesh and spirit alike. His breathing was shallow, each inhale scraping against lungs that refused to cooperate. Not from fear.
From pain.
His dantian was shattered.
Not cracked. Not damaged. Completely destroyed.
Li Yuan lifted his head slowly. Long black hair clung to his face, wet with rain and blood. His eyes—once calm, once confident—were still steady now, but something had changed within them. The light of ambition had been extinguished, leaving behind a quiet, terrifying clarity.
On the elevated stone platform ahead, the elders stood in judgment.
Elder Sun, his former mentor, avoided Li Yuan's gaze.
Sect Master Qiao sat in the center, expression carved from stone. To his right stood Zhao Chen—Li Yuan's junior brother. The man's robes were pristine, untouched by rain thanks to a subtle barrier of qi. His lips trembled slightly, as if holding back grief.
A convincing performance.
"Li Yuan," Sect Master Qiao said, his voice amplified by cultivation, echoing across the plaza. "You are accused of colluding with demonic cultivators, stealing sect techniques, and attempting to assassinate your fellow disciple, Zhao Chen."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Li Yuan laughed.
The sound was hoarse, broken—but unmistakably mocking.
"Colluding?" he repeated softly. "With demons?"
His gaze shifted, locking onto Zhao Chen. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be standing."
Zhao Chen flinched, as if struck. "Senior Brother… how can you still speak so coldly after everything? I admired you. I trusted you."
Li Yuan studied him closely. The lowered eyes. The clenched fists. The faint tremor in his voice.
Perfect.
Three years. That was how long Zhao Chen had spent by his side. Three years of deference, of praise, of playing the obedient junior while quietly laying the foundation for this moment.
Li Yuan finally understood.
The rare Heaven-Grade Spirit Root he possessed. The ancient inheritance he had uncovered in the Black Mist Ruins. The sect's growing unease as his cultivation rose too quickly, too cleanly.
They didn't fear his crimes.
They feared his potential.
"Evidence has been presented," Elder Sun said stiffly, finally speaking. "Witnesses confirmed seeing Li Yuan near the restricted archives. Zhao
Chen was found injured shortly after."
Li Yuan turned his head. "Injured?" His lips curved faintly. "You broke your own arm for this?"
Zhao Chen's face paled. A flash of hatred slipped through before he masked it with sorrow.
Sect Master Qiao raised a hand. Silence fell.
"The verdict has already been decided," he said. "Li Yuan, your cultivation base has been abolished. By sect law, your life is forfeit."
For a single heartbeat, the rain seemed to stop.
Then—
"But," Qiao continued, eyes narrowing, "in recognition of your past contributions, the sect will show mercy."
Mercy.
Li Yuan felt something crack—not in his body, but in his chest.
"You will be cast into the Fallen Heaven Abyss," the Sect Master declared. "If you survive, it will be Heaven's will. If not, your fate ends today."
Gasps erupted from the disciples.
The Fallen Heaven Abyss.
A place where qi was twisted, where monsters fed on despair, where even Nascent Soul cultivators feared to tread. A place without return.
Zhao Chen fell to his knees. "Sect Master! Please—Senior Brother may be misguided, but—"
"Enough," Qiao snapped. "This is final."
Two enforcers stepped forward.
Li Yuan did not resist as they dragged him across the plaza. The chains scraped against stone, leaving behind a trail darker than rainwater.
As he passed Zhao Chen, Li Yuan stopped.
The enforcers hesitated.
Li Yuan leaned close, his voice so low only one person could hear.
"Enjoy my shadow," he whispered. "It won't protect you forever."
Zhao Chen shuddered.
Moments later, Li Yuan was thrown from the cliff.
The world became wind.
His body slammed against jagged rock, bones snapping with dull finality. Blood sprayed into the darkness as gravity claimed him again and again. Pain ceased to be sharp—it became vast, overwhelming, a sea with no shore.
His consciousness flickered.
So this is how it ends.
Not in battle. Not beneath the heavens.
But erased. Cleanly. Conveniently.
As darkness swallowed him, fragments of memory surfaced—nights spent cultivating under moonlight, breakthroughs earned through discipline, the pride in Elder Sun's eyes when he first reached
Foundation Establishment.
All meaningless.
Then—
Something stirred.
Not above. Not around.
Within.
ERROR…
HOST CONDITION: TERMINAL
PREREQUISITE MET: COMPLETE DESIRE THRESHOLD ACHIEVED
A presence unfolded in the void of his shattered consciousness. Cold. Ancient. Indifferent.
INITIALIZING…
FORBIDDEN CULTIVATION SYSTEM ACTIVATED
Li Yuan's eyes snapped open.
Darkness stretched endlessly around him. He lay broken at the bottom of the abyss, body twisted, breath shallow. Yet he was alive.
Barely.
A translucent interface hovered before his vision, faint and unstable.
Host detected
Cultivation: Abolished
Meridians: Shattered
Survival Probability: 0.03%
Li Yuan stared at the words.
Then he smiled.
Slowly. Dangerously.
"So," he murmured, voice scraping out of his ruined throat, "even Heaven didn't finish the job."
The abyss answered with silence.
And somewhere far above, the sect celebrated the death of a genius—unaware that what they had thrown away had just been reborn.