The stone door slid open with a low rumble.
After five years, Han Tian Yi finally stepped out of the spiritual cultivation chamber.
His steps were steady, yet the moment he straightened his back, a faint stiffness spread through his limbs. A dull ache lingered in his body from years of sitting.
But the discomfort in his chest was far heavier.
His cultivation had reached the peak of the Foundation Establishment Stage.
And stopped.
His fingers brushed lightly against his chest.
Empty and unmoving.
To advance… he would need another Heaven-defying blessed body constitution to stabilize his realm.
Otherwise, this was the end of the road.
A servant’s quiet whisper caught his attention.
Four years ago, Han Tian Shi began cultivating.
Now, he was fourteen.
And his spiritual root—
Han Tian Yi’s steps halted in the courtyard.
The wind stirred, rustling his sleeves as the words echoed in his mind again.
Primordial Root of Chaos.
The origin of all Dao.
His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth.
"So the heavens truly had a sense of humor."
If they feared talent so much, why grant such a root… to his younger brother?
His gaze lowered slightly, shadows gathering in his eyes.
That root was not merely rare.
It was the beginning of everything.
Before heaven existed. Before laws were formed. Before time flowed.
Chaos was first.
And from chaos, all things were born.
A cultivator with such a root would never be restricted by elements, paths, or techniques. Every law would accept them. Every Dao would respond to them naturally, as if recognizing their existence.
No rejection.
No incompatibility.
No true bottlenecks.
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Where others struggled to comprehend the Dao through blood and suffering, it would flow into Han Tian Shi like water returning to the sea.
Tribulations would weaken. Barriers would soften. Even fate itself would subtly lean in his favor.
Han Tian Yi’s fists slowly clenched.
His knuckles turned pale.
Spiritual energy trembled faintly around him as his breathing grew uneven.
He could almost hear it.
The silent ridicule of the world.
The unfairness pressing down on him like an unseen weight.
His brother possessed the root said to have appeared only once in history — the same root carried by the legendary figure rumored to have reached the Dao God Realm.
Chosen.
Favored.
Protected.
And him?
Cursed body. Trash physique. A limit fixed at Nascent Soul.
A low laugh slipped from his throat, bitter and hollow, quickly swallowed by the wind sweeping across the courtyard. Strands of his hair fluttered, the hem of his robe swaying, yet he stood motionless.
Envy burned quietly beneath his calm pretense.
Not loud. Not explosive.
But deep. Persistent. Refusing to extinguish.
Because that root was the one thing he could never steal.
The root guarded by Heaven itself.
His head tilted slightly upward.
“You go this far… just to mock me?”
The words came out in a hoarse whisper.
Then suddenly—
“HAHAHAHAHA!!!”
His laughter erupted violently, echoing throughout his residence. The sound slammed against the stone walls and returned to him in distorted waves.
“Why?!”
His hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling tightly as his chest rose and fell sharply.
“Why do you despise me so much?!”
Silence crashed down after his roar, heavy and suffocating.
To him, the contrast was absurd.
His father stood at the Saint Realm early stage. His mother had reached the peak of the True Immortal Stage. His grandfather was at the peak of the Saint Realm. Every ancestor of the Han Clan was a monster of talent.
And his younger brother—
Heaven-blessed.
Dao-favored.
Destined.
Yet he, a direct descendant of such a lineage, possessed a body that could only endure up to the Nascent Soul Stage.
Nascent Soul.
Not True Immortal. Not Saint. Not even close.
For a high-ranking Immortal Clan, that realm was barely adequate.
The worst part was not the limit itself.
It was the absolute certainty of it.
He had devoured blessed body constitution essences. He had refined pills. He had tested every possible method.
The result never changed.
His hands tightened further, veins faintly visible beneath his skin as a stubborn light ignited within his eyes.
“I will never accept this.” he whispered his voice rough.
“Never.”
Moments later, the sound of flowing water echoed softly within his residence.
When he stepped out again, he had already changed into a fresh robe. His expression was calm. Composed. Gentle.
As if the storm from earlier had never existed.
He soon found Han Tian Shi.
“Little Shi, congratulations~”
His hand rested gently on the boy’s head, patting it with familiar warmth. His smile curved softly, almost genuine.
“Big brother is so proud of you…”
Han Tian Shi’s face immediately brightened, eyes sparkling like stars.
“Thank you, big brother!~”
Han Tian Yi extended his hand. A cultivation manual, radiating faint spiritual fluctuations, rested neatly on his palm.
“Here. Big brother made this especially for you to celebrate.”
A faint melancholy lingered at the corner of his smile.
“Forgive me for congratulating you so late…”
Han Tian Shi accepted it with both hands, clutching it tightly to his chest, joy written all over his face.
“Thank you, big brother!~”
Han Tian Yi’s voice softened further.
“If you ever need anything, just tell your big brother, alright?”
The younger boy nodded eagerly, gratitude overflowing.
Beneath the surface, however, the manual was not as simple as it appeared.
Just like the ones he wrote for their parents, its contents had been subtly altered.
But this time, the effect would be stronger.
Much stronger.
Han Tian Shi was only at the early Foundation Establishment Stage.
Yet with Heaven’s favor and the Dao’s silent acknowledgment, his cultivation speed would soon become terrifying.
Most cultivators spent their lives chasing a glimpse of the Dao, struggling through bloodshed and tribulation.
But for Han Tian Shi, the Dao would naturally align with him, as if the universe itself was clearing his path.
Where others saw barriers, his path would open. Where others suffered calamity, his trials would turn into fortune.
A Dao-favored individual.
A destined existence.
As Han Tian Yi turned away, the calm mask remained perfectly intact, but the faint tension in his steps betrayed the turmoil beneath.
“Even the Dao wishes to block me now…”
His mutter was quiet, almost inaudible.
“How infuriating.”
His gaze grew colder as he walked toward his parents’ residence.
“I will make sure you understand who you should truly serve… foolish Dao.”
He stopped before the hall and spoke calmly, as if nothing weighed on his mind.
“Mother. Father. I wish to meet the ancestors.”
Han Fei Yu looked at him carefully.
“Do you need something, my son?”
Han Tian Yi inclined his head slightly, posture respectful and composed.
“I wish to read the ancient books guarded by the ancestors.”
His voice was steady, serious beyond his age.
A faint frown appeared on his father’s face.
“The ancestors are detached from worldly matters. I can send a request… but whether they respond is uncertain.”
Those ancestors were former patriarchs of the Han Clan, beings residing at the ancestral mountain within their secluded domain. Peak Saint Realm existences, each only a single step away from the Dao God Realm.
Han Tian Yi’s eyes did not waver.
“If they allow me entry…”
A brief pause.
“I will tell them how to become one with the Dao.”
Silence lingered in the hall.
Han Fei Yu’s brows furrowed deeply.
“You… know how to be one with the Dao?”
Inside, Han Tian Yi scoffed coldly.
Even the ancestors do not know.
Outwardly, his expression remained sincere.
“Father, I know what I am saying. Please believe me.”
Concern flickered briefly in Han Fei Yu’s eyes as he studied his son’s calm face.
"Little Yi had already read every book in the clan library. And now, he sought the scriptures guarded by the ancestors themselves. Was it merely thirst for knowledge? Or something else?'
After a moment, he exhaled softly and nodded.
“Very well. I will send word to the ancestors.”
