The earth first sank, and a ring of dust surged up from Hidden Source Ridge, driving a wave of air outward to crush across all directions. Mountains and rivers shook, waterways surged, Demon Beasts in the deep forests prostrated themselves against the ground, and young children cried in their sleep. The golden scar in the heavens had yet to close. It stretched across the sky, as though a giant palm had torn the firmament open and forgotten to draw it shut.
The streak of light crashed into the depths of Hidden Source Ridge, and pitch-black fissures split the earth. When the dust cleared, a lingering wisp of black-and-gold spiritual light remained in the deepest part of the rift. Rather than dissipating, it struggled among the broken stones and soil, contracting until it finally condensed into the form of a boy.
He was about thirteen, naked and frail. The lingering radiance around him slowly receded into his flesh before vanishing altogether. Pale and fragile, he was no different from any ordinary mortal child.
He opened his eyes. For an instant, an abyssal dark-gold gleam flashed in their depths, so fleeting it seemed an illusion. Blank bewilderment took its place. He had no memories, no strength-even his name was utterly gone.
The rift in the heavens slowly closed, and the rumbling earth returned to silence. The phenomena across heaven and earth receded like the tide, as though nothing had happened.
Only the boy remained, lying naked in the wilderness wind like a speck of dust forgotten by the world. The wind swept grit across his skin, bringing a bone-piercing chill. Instinctively, he hugged his arms around himself. Beneath the boundless heavens and earth, his slight figure was so small it was almost nothing.
The Great Yan Continent was a lower-dimensional realm in a corner of the Star Abyss of the Heavens.
Legend held that it had been born from Great Yan Source Breath and was one of the earliest lands to bear mortal life across the heavens. Spiritual Qi was thin here, and its Dao arts were lowly, unable to sustain high-order origins. Yet it possessed a complete cultivation order of its own.
From sensing the spiritual in the Mortal Fetus Realm, to awakening awareness in the Life Soul Realm, to touching the edges of Principles in the Spirit Transformation Realm, every step marked a boundary between the mortal and the transcendent.
To the higher worlds, this was merely a stable place for tempering; to those born here, it was the entirety of heaven and earth.
The continent was divided into three regions: Central State, where sects stood as thick as trees and dynasties vied for supremacy, was the heartland of cultivators; the Southern Wasteland was shrouded in miasma, ancient burial grounds dotted its lands, and danger coexisted with opportunity; the Northern Cold held a thousand miles of glaciers and sparse Spirit Veins, yet tempered one's character most of all. Beyond them lay the misty waters of the East Sea and the yellow sands of the Western Desert, each harboring civilizations, life, and death.
Sects stood alongside dynasties, and fortuitous opportunities coexisted with slaughter. Some gazed up at the stars in pursuit of transcendence; others spent their lives confined to a tiny patch of land. People everywhere said that beyond the continent lay a higher order of encircling realms, and Great Yan was merely the first layer of projection.
Here, those with outstanding Spirit Roots could enter a sect in a single step, while ordinary people remained trapped in the Mortal Fetus Realm all their lives. Hope and despair intertwined, and those of mortal bone walked alongside heaven's chosen.
And at this moment, the boy stood at the very bottom of this path, possessing nothing, beginning from zero. No one knew where he had come from. No one knew what kind of existence he had once been.
Only the long winds of heaven and earth brushed silently past his hair, as though setting down the prologue to a newborn destiny.
At the first light of dawn, cooking smoke rose wrapped in morning mist over Little Stone Village on the northwestern frontier. Roosters crowed and dogs barked, tearing through the quiet. A yellow ox on a field ridge swished its tail, lowering its head to graze on dew-covered grass. Spiritual Qi was thin here, and most villagers were in the Mortal Fetus Realm, unable to glimpse the gateway to cultivation throughout their lives.
Along the dirt road at the village entrance, a solitary figure slowly approached.
The boy was barefoot and covered in dirt and mud, with streaks of blood cut into his soles by sharp stones. His eyes were vacant and his steps unsteady, yet he carried an inexplicable stubbornness as he walked into the village, step by step.
A woman carrying water froze, nearly dropping her wooden buckets onto the field ridge. "Whose child is that? How did he end up looking like this?"
The children chasing one another stopped and pointed at him, bursting into laughter. "He's not wearing any clothes! Is he an idiot?"
The old village chief leaned on his cane and narrowed his eyes, his brow deeply furrowed. "Strange... Where did a child come from out here in these wild hills?"
A crowd gradually gathered, their gazes holding curiosity, contempt, and wariness. "Probably a child his family threw away." "He's filthy all over. Don't tell me he's picked up something evil."
The boy heard them but did not react. He merely lowered his head slightly, shielding his chest with his arms as his body curled inward. The morning wind burrowed into his bones, and he shivered like a young beast soaked by rain.
The murmurs continued, pricking him like fine needles. He endured them silently, his numb eyes without a ripple.
It was as though he had long since grown accustomed to moving forward step by step from the lowliest place. Just then, a gap opened in the crowd.
A woman of around thirty hurried over. She was thin, her features marked by the weariness of years of labor, but her eyes were gentle. Her name was Qin Yu, and everyone in the village called her Aunt Qin. Her husband had lost his life hunting in the mountains years ago. With no children, she lived alone in a wooden cottage and was known for her kind heart.
One look at the boy made her heart ache. Without saying much, she turned and ran home.
A little while later, she returned with a coarse cloth robe in her arms, washed pale with use and still carrying the faint scent of soap pods and sunshine.
"Child, put this on." Slightly breathless, she offered him the clothes, her voice gentle. "It's cold. Don't let yourself freeze."
The boy raised his eyes to her.
Those eyes were clear, like a freshly washed sky. There was no mockery, no disgust, only genuine compassion. He paused, neither reaching out nor speaking, as though he could not understand this sudden kindness.
Seeing him remain still, Qin Yu sighed, stepped forward, and draped the robe over his shoulders herself. The fabric was oversized, hanging loosely around his thin body, yet it felt as though it had wrapped him in warmth.
"What a sin..." The old village chief shook his head. "Qin Yu, you're the kindhearted one."
The others awkwardly withdrew their gazes, and the murmuring gradually subsided.
Qin Yu crouched to meet his eyes. "Child, what's your name? Where is your home? Where are your parents?"
The boy's lips moved, his voice as faint as a broken leaf in the wind. "I... don't know."
A low stir passed through the crowd.
Qin Yu's heart lurched. He's lost his memory.
What other reason could there be for a child with no memories to appear out of nowhere in these wild mountains, unless he had suffered some disaster and been abandoned? Looking into his vacant eyes, she felt as though something had clenched around her heart.
Leaning on his cane, the old village chief said gravely, "Qin Yu, if you don't mind the trouble, take him home for now. The child is pitiful, and you live alone. Perhaps this is fate. We can't just watch him freeze or starve to death at the village entrance."
Qin Yu fell silent for a moment, then looked at the boy again.
He stood there quietly, like a blade of grass trembling in the wind. Fragile, yet with a stubborn refusal to fall.
Her heart softened. She reached out and gently touched his arm. "If you don't mind, come home with me. From now on... I'll take care of you."
The boy gazed into her eyes.
There was light in them, as warm as the fire in a hearth.
For what seemed the first time, something gently filled his empty chest.
He nodded.
The wind at the village entrance happened to still for a moment.
Evening, in the wooden cottage.
The room was small, its walls peeling, with an old wooden table and a straw bed, all kept perfectly clean. The scent of porridge drifted from the stove. Qin Yu had cooked a pot of millet porridge and baked two coarse-grain flatbreads.
She passed him a bowl. "Eat slowly. There's more if it's not enough."
The boy cradled the bowl in both hands, the steam dampening his eyes. A mouthful of hot porridge slid into his stomach, and for the first time, he knew what "warmth" tasted like.
At night, moonlight spilled through the window lattice onto the straw mat. Qin Yu laid out his bedding and tucked an old cotton quilt snugly around him. "Sleep. Don't be afraid."
The boy lay on his side, gazing at the stars beyond the window.
It was very quiet, very peaceful.
He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep. This was his first night upon this land, without fear, without loneliness or cold.
Outside, the wind murmured softly, like a low lullaby.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wood, casting scattered flecks of light on the floor.
Qin Yu pushed open the door and approached the bed, keeping her voice very soft. "Awake? In a little while, I'll take you into the village to have a couple of outfits made that fit."
The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes, his gaze still hazy with sleep. He looked at Qin Yu like a little beast that had just opened its eyes, timid yet showing dependence.
Watching him, Qin Yu suddenly smiled. "You can't go without a name forever. Since you can't remember your old one, shall I give you one?"
The boy blinked, a trace of bewilderment flickering in his eyes, along with a little anticipation.
"Your surname will be Qin, like mine." Qin Yu's gentle gaze rested on his face, yet seemed to look somewhere far away. "And your given name will be Yu. The Yu in 'universe.' May your heart one day be as broad as heaven and earth, your path as vast as the starry universe, and may you never be lonely and destitute again."
The boy paused. Qin Yu. He repeated it silently. It was an unfamiliar name, yet it felt as though something had settled gently into the depths of his heart.
He lifted his head, his lips curving into the faintest smile. His voice was soft but clear. "Mm."
Qin Yu smiled too, reaching out to ruffle his hair. "Good. Then from now on, your name is Qin Yu."
Morning light fell into the room and over them both. The boy's eyes were clear, and the woman's smile was warm.
The Source Silence Dao Contention of ages past, the shattering and thunder deep within the chaos-all had receded into the distance. What had landed upon this mortal earth was only a brand-new name, a life beginning from zero.
The road ahead was long, his mortal form had only just found its footing, and Qin Yu's story had only just begun...