Spiritual Roots' Humiliation and the Martial Path's Faint Light

In the Qingyang City afternoon, sunlight filtered through the clouds and onto the bluestone streets, but it couldn't penetrate the gloom in Chen Fan's heart. He huddled in a corner outside the Xianyun Sect's mountain gate, his coarse cloth clothes covered in patches, a stark contrast to the well-dressed youths waiting for their Spiritual Roots test.

"Next, Chen Fan!" the Xianyun Sect disciple in charge of the test called out expressionlessly, a hint of undisguised disdain in his voice.

Chen Fan took a deep breath, clutching the smooth, worn copper coin hidden in his sleeve—the only memento from his deceased mother. He walked forward step by step and placed his hand on the Spirit Testing Stone, which emitted a soft white light.

Seconds ticked by, but the Spirit Testing Stone remained unresponsive, its monotonous white glow unchanged. A wave of laughter and whispers immediately erupted from the crowd.

"I knew it. How could a poor kid who can barely afford to eat have Spiritual Roots?"

"What a waste of time. How could someone like him possibly enter a sect?"

"Without Spiritual Roots, he's just a mortal for life, destined to struggle at the bottom."

Those harsh words pierced Chen Fan's heart like needles. His face turned beet red, and his fingernails dug deep into his palm, but he forced himself not to lash out. The testing disciple waved his hand impatiently, "No Spiritual Roots, scram. Don't be an eyesore here."

Chen Fan turned away silently, leaving the Xianyun Sect's mountain gate amidst the laughter and scornful gazes of the crowd. He walked aimlessly along the street, the words of others echoing in his mind, along with his mother's weak yet hopeful voice on her deathbed: "Little Fan, Mom knows you've had it tough, but you must live well. Perhaps... perhaps one day you'll have a chance to rise."

If he had no Spiritual Roots, was he truly destined to be bullied forever, with no hope of ever getting ahead? Chen Fan refused to accept it. He shook his head forcefully, a stubborn glint flashing in his eyes.

As night gradually fell, Chen Fan arrived at a dilapidated temple on the outskirts of the city, his current shelter. Just as he was about to find some dry straw to lay on the ground, he suddenly heard a faint groan from outside the temple.

His heart tightened. He cautiously approached the temple entrance and, by the moonlight, saw a middle-aged man in black close-fitting attire lying on the ground, blood seeping from his chest, his breathing shallow. The man exuded an aura entirely different from that of a cultivator—a powerful, robust aura belonging to the physical body.

Chen Fan hesitated. He had been taught since childhood not to meddle in other people's affairs, especially in these chaotic times where a single misstep could lead to disaster. But seeing the man's pained expression, he recalled all the injustices he had suffered. His compassion ultimately overcame his fear.

He quickly walked to the man's side and asked softly, "Uncle, are you alright?"

The middle-aged man slowly opened his eyes, a flicker of wariness flashing within them. Upon seeing Chen Fan's innocent and concerned gaze, the wariness gradually faded. He said weakly, "Young man, I... I'm seriously injured. Could you help me find some water?"

Chen Fan nodded quickly and ran to a nearby stream. He scooped a bowl of water with his worn personal bowl and carefully fed it to the middle-aged man.

After drinking the water, the middle-aged man's breathing stabilized slightly. He looked at Chen Fan, a complex expression in his eyes. "Young man, thank you. I see you have unusual potential, but you seem to have troubles that are hard to describe?"

Chen Fan gave a bitter smile and recounted his lack of Spiritual Roots, his rejection by the sect, and the bullying he had endured.

After listening, the middle-aged man was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke, "So what if you have no Spiritual Roots? Cultivating immortality is not the only path. In this world, there is a more arduous, yet also more heaven-defying road—the Martial Path!"

"The Martial Path?" Chen Fan was stunned. He had never heard of such a path.

"Indeed, the Martial Path," a light flashed in the middle-aged man's eyes. "The Martial Path does not cultivate spiritual energy; it only refines the body. By tempering the physical body and condensing inner strength, one breaks through the limits of life again and again. Even with a mortal body, one can possess earth-shattering power, and even... slay immortals!"

Chen Fan's heart leaped. Slay immortals? These words stirred a tempest within him. He looked at the middle-aged man, his eyes filled with longing. "Uncle, is what you say true? Can I... can I also cultivate the Martial Path?"

The middle-aged man nodded. "Although you have no Spiritual Roots, your disposition is tenacious, and your physical aptitude far surpasses ordinary people. You are good material for cultivating the Martial Path. I am a Martial Venerable nearing my end. I was ambushed this time and am already at my wit's end. I am willing to pass on my Martial Path legacy to you. Are you willing to embark on this path of martial arts, fraught with peril?"

Martial Venerable! Although Chen Fan didn't know what realm a Martial Venerable was, he could sense from the man's words that he was an extremely powerful being. Without hesitation, he knelt on the ground and kowtowed three times to the middle-aged man. "Disciple Chen Fan pays respects to Master! I implore Master to teach me the Martial Path. This disciple will surely cultivate diligently and not betray Master's expectations!"

The middle-aged man showed a gratified smile. He extended his hand and injected a warm stream of inner energy into Chen Fan's body. Simultaneously, a series of cultivation methods and combat techniques for the Martial Path flooded into Chen Fan's mind—the Burning Heaven Art, a cultivation technique recording the supreme mysteries of the Martial Path.

"The Burning Heaven Art is divided into nine layers, corresponding to the nine major realms of the Martial Path: Postnatal, Xiantian, Grandmaster, Martial Venerable, Martial Saint, Human Immortal, Earth Immortal, Heavenly Immortal, and Proving Dao with Martial Arts. To cultivate this technique, each breakthrough to a new major realm requires the shattering of the 'Mortal Body Shackles,' a process of immense pain, a near-death experience," the middle-aged man's voice gradually weakened. "This is all I can do for you. The rest of the journey is up to you..."

Before he could finish speaking, the middle-aged man's head lolled to the side, his breath completely extinguished.

Chen Fan looked at his master's body, tears streaming down his face. He stood up and solemnly buried his master's remains on the hillside behind the dilapidated temple, erecting a simple wooden tablet.

"Master, rest assured, I will definitely cultivate the Martial Path diligently, break the shackles of 'Spiritual Root destiny,' and let the Martial Path shine again, living up to your legacy!" Chen Fan bowed deeply to the wooden tablet, his eyes filled with firm conviction.

From then on, Chen Fan began his Martial Path cultivation journey in the dilapidated temple. Before dawn each day, he would temper his body according to the methods of the Burning Heaven Art, chopping wood, carrying water, practicing punches, repeating each simple action thousands of times. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his body was covered in scars, yet he never showed a hint of slackening.

He knew this was his only chance, his only hope to change his destiny and defy heaven to slay immortals. Within his meager frame, the blazing fire of the Martial Path had already ignited, and a storm that would sweep across the land was quietly brewing.