The first rays of dawn filtered through the cracks in the thatched roof, warming the dusty floor of a small hut. Wind whistled softly through the ill-fitted wooden panels. Outside, roosters crowed, and the village stirred.
But inside, Lin Feng remained motionless, his breathing shallow, his gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling.
Sixteen years old today.
Most cultivators had already stepped into the Qi Condensation Realm by now — some even further. Some of his peers in Qinghe Village had joined minor sects. One or two were rumored to be on the cusp of Foundation Establishment.
But Lin Feng? He couldn't even sense spiritual energy, let alone absorb it.
Severed Meridians, they called it.
It was a death sentence for a cultivator. No matter how hard he trained, no matter how many hours he meditated, not a single wisp of Qi would respond to his will. It was like screaming into a void, begging for a response from a world that refused to acknowledge him.
The villagers had long stopped pretending to care.
"Don't waste rice on the cripple," old Auntie Mei once hissed to his uncle.
"Why doesn't he leave and die in the mountains like the others?" sneered Jian Bo, a youth who once been Lin Feng's friend — before his own spiritual roots awakened and Lin Feng's didn't.
Only his younger sister, Lin Xue, still treated him like a person. And even she, with her gentle smile, couldn't hide the pity in her eyes.
Lin Feng sat up slowly. His back ached from another night sleeping on straw, his hands calloused from days of chopping wood and hauling water. He tied his worn robes, each thread frayed and faded, and stepped outside.
The morning air was brisk. Mist hung low around the mountains, curling like dragons sleeping in the sky. The faint scent of herbs and wet earth filled his lungs. It should have been beautiful.
But all Lin Feng could see were the stares. The whispers.
The scorn.
"Oi, cripple!" a sharp voice called from the well near the village square.
Lin Feng's steps slowed. Not today, he thought.
Jian Bo swaggered toward him, flanked by two other boys. His robes were fresh, a jade pendant at his waist glinting in the sun. Clearly, he'd returned from training in the Cloudfire Sect.
"What? Still playing mortal peasant?" Jian Bo grinned, tossing a coin into the air. "Or are you finally going to crawl off and die like the heavens intended?"
Lin Feng's jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
"You know," Jian Bo continued, walking in circles around him, "I heard the elders are considering banishing anyone over sixteen who hasn't started cultivating. Parasites, they say. Sucking up the village's resources."
The two lackeys chuckled.
Lin Feng stared at the ground. He'd learned long ago — words only made things worse.
But something in his silence must have irked Jian Bo, because a moment later, a sharp elbow slammed into his ribs.
Pain flared, white-hot, but Lin Feng remained standing.
"Tch. Still too proud," Jian Bo muttered, brushing past him. "You're not even worth the effort anymore."
The trio left, laughter trailing behind them.
Lin Feng stood there a moment longer, hand clutching his side.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the forest.
He often went to the mountains when the village became too suffocating.
They were dangerous, yes — roamed by wild beasts and the occasional rogue cultivator. But they didn't judge. They didn't whisper.
And sometimes, in the deepest silence, he could almost pretend he felt something stirring in the air.
Qi.
Hope.
Anything.
He climbed higher than usual that day. Perhaps he wasn't thinking clearly. Perhaps the pain from Jian Bo's blow drove him harder. But eventually, the forest thinned, and the mist grew thick and strange.
Atop a ridge, an old shrine stood, overgrown with moss and half-swallowed by stone.
He had never seen it before.
The structure was simple — a circular stone platform, surrounded by collapsed pillars. In its center, a meteorite embedded in the ground pulsed faintly with an eerie silver light.
Lin Feng stepped closer, drawn to it like a moth to flame.
As his hand hovered over the stone, a pulse rippled through the air — silent, yet soul-shaking.
The world fell away.
He floated.
In a void of stars.
Galaxies spun like dust motes. Constellations shifted before his eyes. Time and space unraveled.
And then a voice, ancient and mechanical, echoed in his mind:
System Activation: Astral Ascension Protocol Engaged.
Host Identified: Lin Feng – Vital Status: Critical Potential Hidden
System Binding: [Complete]
System Title: Godly Cultivation System
Bonus Trait: 1,000x Cultivation Speed
Auxiliary Feature: [Quest Integration Enabled]
Alert: Severed Meridians detected – Initiating Celestial Override
Pain exploded in his chest — not physical, but spiritual. Like something inside him was being torn apart… and rebuilt.
He screamed.
Light consumed him.
When he awoke, the shrine was gone.
No — not gone. It had crumbled, as though thousands of years had passed in an instant.
But more than that, he could feel… everything.
The wind's whisper.
The Qi in the trees.
The flow of energy through the earth.
He dropped to his knees, gasping, tears streaming down his face.
He could feel Qi.
Tutorial Quest: "Breathe, and Be Reborn" Completed
Reward: +1 Cultivation Layer (Qi Condensation)
New Status: Qi Condensation – Layer 1
New Feature: Stat Panel Unlocked
A transparent window opened in his mind.
[Lin Feng]
Age: 16Cultivation Realm: Qi Condensation – Layer 1Bloodline: ???Traits: Severed Meridian (Overridden), Astral AdaptationPassive Buff: 1,000x Cultivation SpeedSystem Sync: 100%Available Quests: [2]
For a long moment, he stared at the panel, heart hammering.
Then he did something he'd never been able to do before.
He meditated.
And the world responded.
Qi surged into his body like a tidal wave — cool, soothing, empowering.
Cultivation Progress: 1 → 2 → 3…
Time Elapsed: 2 hours
Status: Qi Condensation – Layer 4
When Lin Feng descended from the mountain at sunset, he was not the same.
His posture was straighter.
His gaze sharper.
And deep within him, the System pulsed — a heartbeat of the cosmos.
The boy with broken meridians was no more.
Now, the world would witness the rise of a storm.