In the wilderness world, where strength was law and fate was forged through cultivation, power was not merely a gift—it was a path.
And like all paths, it began with the first step.
**Foundation Building Realm.**
The most basic, most critical, and often most overlooked realm in the entire system.
To most, it was simple: awaken the body's potential, prepare the spiritual veins, and open the way for Qi to flow. It was the ground upon which future greatness was built. If one could not pass the Foundation Realm, they would never step onto the true path of martial ascension.
But to **Shadow**, this realm meant more than that.
Because it was the door that had always been locked.
And he… was the key Heaven refused to shape.
---
Inside a dim room tucked in the far corner of the outer disciple quarters, Shadow sat cross-legged, surrounded by silence. The light of the moon leaked through a cracked window, pale and cold.
Before him, laid in a perfect circle, were ten faintly glowing **low-grade spirit stones**—the last gift from Elder Yan.
He placed a hand on the floor, closed his eyes, and breathed.
"Foundation Building…" he whispered, "is not about energy."
"It's about potential."
His voice was steady, though low.
"We are told it's the stage to awaken the body, to stabilize the mind, to prepare the meridians. But what they never say is *why.*"
"Why must we awaken?"
His eyes opened.
"Because Heaven won't open the door for anyone who doesn't knock."
---
Shadow had spent years listening. Watching. Reading old scrolls cast aside by inner disciples. Stealing glances at manuals he wasn't allowed to touch. His comprehension was deep—not just of techniques, but of *philosophy*.
He understood what most didn't even question.
"In order to create a new path… a system the heavens don't recognize… I have to start from the very beginning."
"I have to ask: *What is suitable for me?*"
He picked up a spirit stone and held it to the light. The energy within shimmered—pure, untouched.
"If Heaven won't let me absorb spiritual energy… if my dantian is sealed… then I'll take it another way."
His eyes hardened.
"I'll steal from the heavens themselves."
---
Shadow had studied **Heaven's Baptism**—the event that occurred naturally when a young cultivator turned sixteen. The moment when the heavens descended, nourishing the body with Qi, opening their path to cultivation.
It was meant to be the universe's way of saying: *you may begin now.*
But when Shadow turned sixteen… there was no light. No warmth. No blessing. He had stood under the sky for hours. Waiting. Hoping.
Nothing came.
"I failed Heaven's test," he said, "because I was never supposed to be chosen."
"But when I read the all kinds of books and scrolls… I realized something."
He stood slowly, pacing around the spirit stones like a teacher in deep lecture.
"The so-called 'Baptism' is nothing more than the body's introduction to spiritual energy. A forced awakening."
"What determines how much energy one receives? Not talent. Not luck. Not even bloodline."
He stopped.
"It's **how much the body can endure.**"
"Some are born with pure meridians. Others with dragon blood. But for me… my only gift is this cursed existence."
"So I asked myself…"
His eyes burned.
"If spiritual energy only enters through Heaven's Baptism… and Heaven refuses me…"
"Then what if I force contact myself?"
---
He knelt again in the center of the stones, placing his hands on his knees.
"The answer came slowly. I found it through reading and understanding all kinds of cultivation experience … each with pieces of the truth."
"A body becomes most open to external forces when it's at its most fragile."
"That moment between life and death—when the soul begins to slip away—*that* is when Heaven touches you."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"So if Heaven won't reach down…"
"Then I'll reach up."
---
Shadow reached beneath his robe and pulled out a small, clean dagger. Its edge was worn, but sharp enough.
"I've tried everything else. Meditation. Breathing techniques. Bloodline testing. I even allowed myself to be hit during sparring just to feel what pain could stir."
"But only one thing works."
"Pain sharpens the soul. And death… makes Heaven listen."
He laid the dagger beside him and touched each spirit stone with trembling fingers, placing them in exact alignment with the diagram he had drawn in chalk hours earlier.
"This… is the Supreme Method of Mortal Defiance."
"If I succeed… I'll take what was never meant to be mine."
"If I fail…"
He looked up at the ceiling, through the roof, through the skies.
"…then may the heavens see what they tried to erase one last time."
---
His breathing slowed.
He reached for the dagger.
"They said I'm a sin."
"Fine."
"Let this be the first crime."
With a steady hand, he pressed the blade to the skin just below his ribs—and pushed.
Pain exploded like wildfire, but he didn't scream. He gritted his teeth as blood poured down his side, staining his robes, dripping onto the spirit stones.
The room pulsed. The air trembled.
His vision swam, but he stayed upright.
"Come on… come on… I'm open now…"
"You took my dantian, but I still have my *soul!*"
His head rolled back.
"Touch me now, Heaven! If you dare!"
And then—
The air cracked.
Not thunder.
But something far more ancient.
The ten spirit stones flared. Energy surged—not through his dantian, but straight into his bleeding body. It coursed through his **bones**, his **blood**, his **mind**.
He wasn't absorbing it.
**He was stealing it.**
And the heavens… were watching.