The Fallen Prodigy and the God Who Entered His Dream

Primeval Holy Land, Falling Geese Peak.

Compared with the main peak's towering Purple Qi and bustling crowds, Falling Geese Peak was desolate. It had once been home to the oldest lineage of the Primeval Holy Land, but an upheaval centuries ago had brought it low. Now it was little more than a barren hill where the sect dumped junk and discarded spirit swords.

Before a dilapidated stone house deep within Falling Geese Peak, a young man in coarse hemp robes sat quietly on a slab of bluestone.

He held a rough whetstone, slowly sharpening a rusty iron sword whose blade had broken halfway down.

Scrape... scrape...

The dull, monotonous sound echoed through the empty valley.

His name was Lin Qiye.

Three years ago, that name had shone brighter than any other in the Canglan Realm.

He had reached Deification at fifteen and achieved profound mastery of sword intent at seventeen. Hailed as the prodigy most likely to become the Primeval Holy Land's next Holy Lord in a hundred thousand years, he was called the "crown of prodigies." Even several old demon emperors of the Demon Domain had lamented, "Unless this boy dies, the demon race will never rise again."

But all that glory had vanished in the Demon-Sealing Calamity two years ago.

To protect the junior disciples traveling with him and prevent abyssal demonic qi from escaping, Lin Qiye had held off three great demons alone for three days and nights with nothing but his sword.

In the end, the demonic qi was sealed, but he paid a terrible price—

Demonic poison had burned out his eyes, demonic qi had ravaged his meridians, and one of the great demons had shattered his supreme Sword Heart in a desperate final strike.

A cripple with no sight, ruined meridians, and no cultivation could no longer be the Holy Son.

In recognition of his service to the sect, the Primeval Holy Land had not expelled him. It even sent him medicine each month to help him recover. But that was all.

The world of cultivation was cruel. Those who had lost their worth were eventually forgotten.

The fellow disciples who had once flocked around him now considered even his name unlucky. The elders who had once placed such high hopes on him sighed that "heaven envies the gifted," then never set foot on Falling Geese Peak again.

Scrape...

Lin Qiye remained calm.

A black cloth, faded from countless washings, covered his sightless eyes. Though he could not see, the hand holding his sword was perfectly steady. With every stroke, it was as though he were measuring the blade's warmth with his own life.

He did not hate the sect for its indifference, nor did he resent the unfairness of fate.

The one thing he could not accept...

His sword had broken, and his path had ended.

Just then, the sharpening stopped.

In Lin Qiye's perception, the wind howling through the mountains seemed to fall still. A faint, elusive fragrance filled the air.

"Falling Geese Peak has been deserted for years. Which senior disciple has taken a wrong turn?" Lin Qiye did not look around. He laid the Broken Sword across his knees and tilted his ear, a gentle, self-mocking smile on his face.

"The prodigy who sealed the demons two years ago can now do nothing but sharpen a broken piece of iron on this barren mountain. What a pity."

A warm, mellow voice drifted from beneath a dead tree before him.

Lin Qiye's expression shifted.

Until the stranger spoke, he had sensed no living presence at all. Though his cultivation was gone, two years of blindness had honed his spiritual perception and hearing far beyond those of ordinary people.

"Senior, who are you...?" The self-mockery left Lin Qiye's face, replaced by caution.

Beneath the dead tree stood Su Chen in azure robes, his hands clasped behind his back as he quietly studied the former prodigy.

Su Chen had used the system to conceal his aura completely. Even if Ji Changkong came in person, he would see only an ordinary man without the slightest trace of spiritual energy.

"I'm just a sweeper at the Library Pavilion. I'm hardly anyone's senior."

Su Chen walked forward and glanced at the Broken Sword across Lin Qiye's knees. He said softly:

"If your eyes are blind, listen with your ears. If your Sword Heart is shattered, strike with your will. Your sword may be broken, but that defiance in your bones hasn't snapped yet."

Lin Qiye shuddered violently.

Over the past two years, countless people had offered him condolences, told him to accept his fate, or urged him to enjoy the rest of his life in peace.

Only this mysterious man in azure had spoken directly to the wound Lin Qiye least wanted to face—and least wanted to give up on.

"What I hear can deceive me. Striking with my will is nothing but empty talk."

Lin Qiye shook his head with a bitter smile and ran his fingers over the cold fracture in the blade.

"My meridians are shattered. My Qi Sea is gone. In this broken Canglan Realm, heaven has already taken back the life it gave me. What could I possibly strike with?"

"Heaven took back your life?"

Su Chen lowered his head slightly. A deep, unfathomable gleam rose in his gentle eyes.

"What if heaven itself is broken? What if the great road laid out by the Heavenly Dao has always been a dead end?"

Boom!

A thunderclap seemed to explode inside Lin Qiye's mind.

Of course he had sensed the vision of the Heavenly Court Collapse that shook the entire Canglan Realm last night. Though he could not see it, he would never forget the overwhelming pressure of the Immortal Dao or the sorrow that had filled heaven and earth.

"You... you know the truth behind last night's vision?!" Lin Qiye sprang to his feet. The Broken Sword slid from his knees and clanged against the ground.

He did not notice. His cloth-covered eyes stayed fixed on Su Chen's direction as his breathing grew ragged.

But Su Chen did not answer.

"Lin Qiye, let me ask you something."

Su Chen's voice turned ethereal, like a divine decree descending from the nine heavens.

"If you had a chance to wield power beyond this broken Heavenly Dao and uphold the justice and swordsmanship you believe in—but the price was bearing the heavy karma of a hundred and twenty thousand lost years and making an enemy of the great terror that destroyed the supreme Heavenly Court..."

"Would you dare accept it?"

Lin Qiye stood frozen.

The wind began to blow again, whipping his coarse robes around him.

He could not see Su Chen's face, but he could feel the unimaginable weight and majesty behind those words.

This was no idle promise between mortals. It felt more like a pact spanning countless ages, one that concerned the lives and deaths of gods and demons.

After a long, deathly silence...

Lin Qiye slowly bent down and felt around until he found the Broken Sword.

He held it across his chest. There were no tears in his empty eyes, but an almost obsessive calm and resolve settled over his young face.

"Two years ago, I, Lin Qiye, dared to block an abyss of demonic qi with my own body. Why wouldn't I dare accept this?"

"If I can hold a sword again, then becoming an enemy of this 'great terror' is nothing..."

Lin Qiye drove the Broken Sword into the bluestone beside him. Every word rang out:

"Even if every bone in my body must be crushed to become a stepping stone for the Heavenly Court's return, what is there to fear?!"

"Good."

Beneath the dead tree, Su Chen laughed.

"Remember what you said today."

"Tonight, in your dreams, I will grant you an opportunity."

With those words...

A blinding flash of purple light suddenly pierced the darkness before Lin Qiye's eyes. When he tried to sense his surroundings again, the faint fragrance had vanished without a trace.

On the empty Falling Geese Peak, only a dead tree, a Broken Sword, and the wounded young man standing motionless remained.

As though everything that had happened had been nothing more than an absurd waking dream.

Night fell.

A bright moon hung overhead, casting its pale light across the world.

Lin Qiye sat cross-legged on his crumbling stone bed. The demonic poison inside him began to ache again. With his meridians shattered, the lingering demonic qi tormented him every night like ten thousand ants gnawing at his bones.

But tonight, for some reason, the pain gradually faded.

A powerful weariness washed over him. For the first time in two years, Lin Qiye, who had remained tense and vigilant even in sleep, fell into a deep slumber.

Splash...

It was the sound of flowing water.

Lin Qiye found himself standing above a vast golden river.

He raised his head without thinking and froze.

He could see.

After two years of blindness, his sight had returned!

No—these could not be ordinary eyes. He could see not only the golden river before him but also the boundless ruins stretching above it.

A road of white jade lay there, impossibly broad and strewn with shattered divine weapons. On the scattered jade steps were two great characters he had never seen before, yet understood the instant they appeared in his mind: "Southern Heaven"!

"This is... the Southern Heavenly Gate from last night's vision?!"

Lin Qiye cried out in shock.

Before he could recover, a low, savage roar came from the golden mist ahead.

Roar—!

The cry was piercing and fierce, like thunder falling from the nine heavens. Lin Qiye's soul trembled.

The mist parted.

A terrifying divine hound emerged, as large as a mountain, wreathed in dark nether light, its eyes gleaming like rubies. It walked slowly across the golden waves.

Beside the hound, a tall and valiant figure stood quietly in the void.

He wore a three-peaked, flying-phoenix hat and a pale yellow robe. Gold-threaded boots framed his dragon-patterned socks, and an ornate jade belt encircled his waist.

Most striking of all was the massive divine weapon held at an angle in his hand.

It was twelve feet long, forged entirely from divine purple-gold iron, with two edges and a single point. From it surged a supreme will to challenge heaven itself!

The man simply stood there.

Yet to Lin Qiye, he seemed the center of all the worlds in existence. Every Law, every mystery of heaven and earth, was no more than dust beneath his feet.

"Who... are you?"

Lin Qiye's voice trembled with the instinctive awe a mortal felt before a supreme god.

The towering god slowly turned.

His face was exceptionally handsome, and a proud smile played on his lips, as though he looked down upon all creation.

Then...

The god slowly raised a hand and pointed to his forehead.

Boom!

A brilliant golden line split open across his brow without warning!

A terrifying golden divine eye opened. Radiating absolute Laws, it could see into the Nine Netherworlds and pierce every illusion across all worlds!

Within that golden eye, worlds perished and chaos was born anew.

A vast divine voice seemed to cross a thousand ages before exploding like heavenly thunder in the depths of Lin Qiye's soul:

"I am King Zhaohui Xiansheng Renyou of Great Song, Erlang Manifesting Sage True Lord of the Ancient Heavenly Court—Yang Jian!"

"Mortal Lin Qiye, will you accept my Heavenly Eye and carry on my warrior spirit?!"