Volume One: A Youth Ventures into the World Chapter Six: A Glimmer of Hope

The silent night was shrouded in darkness; the full moon disappeared behind gathering storm clouds, and what had once been a bright sky now yielded to shadow. Thunder rolled across the heavens, and a gentle, steady rain began to fall.

Rainwater mingled with blood, streaming ceaselessly toward the low ground. Fang Tian locked eyes with the leader of the bandits before him.

The bandit chief raised his blade, facing Fang Tian. He realized now he had underestimated the young man wielding the sword—earlier, he had assumed Fang Tian’s spiritual energy was merely at the eighth tier of the Spirit Guidance realm. His own two brothers, one at the ninth tier and the other at the eighth, had gone together to ensure victory. But to his astonishment, both had been slain in an instant, crushed without the slightest resistance.

Now, looking at Fang Tian’s true state, he saw it was not the eighth tier at all—his spiritual energy had already entered the meridians, reaching the first tier of the Spirit Gathering realm.

Spiritual energy surged from the bandit leader, his aura fierce. He spoke to Fang Tian, “Young man, you are not simple! I misjudged you before, failed to see your true strength, and my brothers have died in vain. For their sake, I will kill you with all my might to comfort their souls in the afterlife. Remember, the one who will kill you is Wang Hu.”

Fang Tian regarded Wang Hu, noting that their realms were equal, though Wang Hu had channeled his spiritual energy into the meridians of his arms, gaining an advantage. Yet Fang Tian felt no fear, resolved to give everything.

He would drag Wang Hu to the grave alongside his father, Xiao Lan, and the elders and villagers—he would not hesitate, even if it meant perishing together.

Fang Tian summoned his spiritual energy. Driven by fury, the cold, sinister power boiled forth like fiends unleashed, spreading in all directions. His blood-red eyes, shrouded in spiritual light, gleamed with chilling brilliance. He spoke to Wang Hu, “Tonight, you have destroyed my village and killed my loved ones. You must pay the price.”

In an instant, the two collided.

Blade and sword clashed, weaving together flashes of spiritual light that brightened the dark night. “Martial skill—Blazing Flame Blade!” “Martial skill—Flying Frost!”

The contest was fierce and evenly matched; each was repelled by the other’s attack. Wang Hu barked, “Boy, you’ve cultivated this far at such a young age. If you leave here alive, I fear you’ll seek revenge. I’ll end this in one move—Martial skill, Blazing Flame Triple Strike!”

Wang Hu prepared to finish Fang Tian with a single blow.

Fang Tian, too, intended to settle the matter with his next move, win or lose. He stood with sword in hand, spiritual energy raging around him, whipping his clothes. He fixed his gaze on Wang Hu, “Are you done talking? Tonight, you die.”

“Mystic Frost Sword Art, third form—Point of Cold.”

Fang Tian thrust his sword, meeting Wang Hu’s attack head-on.

Ice and fire battled, both men rooted to the spot. The rainwater on the ground evaporated instantly under the surge of spiritual energy, and nearby trees toppled in succession. Fang Tian withdrew his sword.

Wang Hu’s blade shattered; his chest was pierced. He stared fixedly at Fang Tian and said, “Boy, you’re formidable.”

As he finished speaking, ice began to form at his chest, spreading rapidly to his limbs, until he became a statue of frozen flesh. Fang Tian struck with his palm, shattering the ice into fragments that scattered across the earth.

A mouthful of blood sprayed forth; Fang Tian, battered by the force of martial skill, was gravely wounded. After a moment, unable to endure his injuries, he collapsed to his knees. There was no joy of victory, only boundless sorrow.

He had never imagined that, because of some celestial anomaly and a mysterious treasure, his family and those as dear as kin would suffer calamity, losing everything in a single night.

“Father, Xiao Lan, villagers—I have avenged you,” he murmured in remorse and rage. He raised his long sword to his neck, ready to end his own life.

Having lost everything, he no longer wished to live.

“Xiao Tian, what are you doing?” The Elder of Heaven appeared, knocking the sword from his hand. Thunder roared in the sky, as if heralding the old man’s arrival. The Elder had witnessed everything from within the sword, but it was too late.

All this had happened because of the sword in the lake. Fang Tian wished to hate, yet could not bring himself to. In the past three years, the Elder had cared for him like family. He could only blame his own weakness for not acting sooner. “Elder, everything is gone! I only wish for death,” Fang Tian said, preparing again to end his life.

The Elder had not anticipated that the celestial anomaly would attract such villains—that they must have heard of it passing through nearby towns and decided to try their luck.

As Fang Tian prepared to die once more, the Elder stopped him. “Xiao Tian, when a person dies, their light is extinguished and only memory remains. But not all hope is lost; there is still a chance to revive them.”

Hearing this, Fang Tian’s heart tightened and his lips quivered. “Really? Elder, can they still be saved?”

“Yes, Xiao Tian. But it will not be easy.”

“I don’t care! If there is any way to bring them back, I will sacrifice anything—even my life.”

“To resurrect them, you must become a true power in this world. Do you know why one cultivates spiritual energy?”

“To one day shed the spirit and become divine, to reach the legendary realm—the Divine Void, to become a god among heaven and earth.”

“And if you wish to revive them, you must become a god: with a single thought, forge the body, gather the soul.”

Fang Tian’s heart was restless, overwhelmed by the challenge of reaching such a realm. But as long as hope remained, he would overcome any obstacle—for this was his only hope.

“Elder, I have decided. If there is hope for their return, I will never give up. One day, I will become the strongest in all the world and reclaim everything fate has taken from me!”

The Elder nodded with satisfaction. “Your journey will be long.”

“Long or not, I fear nothing!” Fang Tian responded resolutely.

Fang Tian rose, moving among the villagers, arranging their bodies with care. The outlaws had long since been reduced to melted ice, vanishing from the world. He paid his respects, then prepared to depart. Noticing the Elder at work, he asked, “Elder, what are you doing?”

“I am collecting their souls. When a person dies, their soul leaves the body. If we have their souls, you need only restore their bodies in the future.”

Fang Tian had not expected such means from the Elder; his confidence surged anew. He addressed his father’s grave, “Father, wait patiently. When I gain the power to revive you all, we shall be reunited.”

“Xiao Lan, I have always regarded you as my own sister; you are family to me. When you return, I want to eat your delicious cooking again.” Fang Tian began to bid farewell, one by one.

He gazed at the souls in the Elder’s hands—the essence of his loved ones. Though they could not speak, they would serve as comfort and follow him always. The Elder carried the souls into the sword.

As the last darkness before dawn faded, the warm red sun rose in the sky. A young man, holding hope in his heart, left Qingchuan, stepping forward on the path to power, toward his destiny as the strongest under heaven.