The Divine Heavens were in chaos.
The once-immovable skies trembled. Blazing golden lightning lashed across the firmament, splitting clouds as thick as mountains. Stars dimmed, palaces cracked, and celestial beasts wailed. In the very heart of the Divine Realm, a vast battlefield raged before the shattered remains of the Temple of Ten Thousand Flames.
In the center stood a man.
Tall. Regal. His long black hair flowed like a storm. His black-gold armor was drenched in divine blood—his own and his enemies'. In his left hand, he held a glowing pill with ever-changing runes floating around it. In his right, a bloodied war halberd that trembled with power.
Long Feng. The Supreme God of War and Alchemy.
Once revered as a legend, now hunted like a heretic.
"You've gone too far, Long Feng!" roared an old immortal with a divine blade in hand. "You tried to fuse alchemy with war cultivation, defying the heavenly order. You're an abomination!"
"Tch." Long Feng spat blood onto the divine marble. "Is it truly heresy… or is it that you all fear I've surpassed you?"
Twelve Heavenly Sovereigns surrounded him. Each one a peak powerhouse who had lived for tens of thousands of years. And yet, none of them dared to fight him alone.
"You're too dangerous," said another Sovereign. "You cultivated beyond the laws. You created the Nine Flame Reversal Pill to shatter tribulation. You conquered war… and now seek to conquer fate?"
"I seek only to protect what I love," Long Feng said, his voice low. "You… seek only to protect your authority."
Their answer came in the form of a barrage. Divine weapons, formation seals, soul-slaughtering swords—all aimed at one man.
Long Feng activated the last of his soul flames.
"If I die… I'll reincarnate. If I fall… I'll rise again. I swear upon the Heavenly Flame itself—I will return."
As the divine bombardment consumed him, his body turned to ashes.
But far away, in the Lower Realm, a star fell.
---
Night had already fallen over Frostcloud Village, a tiny forgotten settlement in the Mistwind Mountains. Cold wind howled through wooden rooftops, and crickets chirped beneath the moonlit grass.
Behind the clan manor, a young boy lay unmoving in the dirt, covered in bruises. His robe was torn. Blood seeped from his mouth.
He had just been beaten again.
"Trash," a cold voice echoed. "That's all you'll ever be, Long Feng."
The others walked away, their laughter fading into the night.
But the boy's body—lifeless a moment ago—suddenly shuddered.
Thump.
Thump-thump.
His heart beat again.
His chest rose and fell. His fingers twitched.
Then his eyes shot open—two golden flames burned inside them.
"Where… am I?" he muttered, gasping for breath.
Memories surged through his mind—two lives colliding like thunder. His former self as the Supreme God of War… and this new body, this pitiful existence.
Name: Long Feng
Age: 16
Status: Trash Young Master of the Long Clan
Scorned. Useless. Mocked for having no spiritual roots. Bullied even by servants.
"This… is me now?" he whispered, his voice cold. "So the heavens put me here?"
He sat up, staring at his bruised arms.
The body was weak. Meridians blocked. Qi flow shattered.
Yet something stirred deep within.
Long Feng closed his eyes, diving inward with the instincts of a divine soul cultivator. As he scanned the core of his new vessel, a faint golden light blinked in the center of the dantian.
A Heavenly Root Physique.
His eyes snapped open. "This… this isn't trash."
The Heavenly Root was one of the rarest, most envied constitutions in all existence—capable of cultivating ten times faster than others, naturally absorbing elemental forces, and mastering both martial and alchemy paths simultaneously.
But it was sealed.
Tampered with.
"Someone—maybe even his own clan—sealed it. No wonder they think he's trash."
Long Feng clenched his fists. Memories of the previous owner's short life surged—humiliation, pain, betrayal.
"You poor soul… your life was unjust. But from this moment on, your enemies are mine. Your pain is mine. And your vengeance… is my promise."
He stood, slowly but confidently. The pain was there, but the will was stronger.
From the shadows, a few villagers who had come to check the body gasped.
"H-He's alive?!"
"But Young Master Wu—he kicked him into the wall!"
"That's impossible…"
Long Feng ignored them and began walking toward the Long Clan estate, each step steadier than the last. Even without cultivation, his posture was noble, terrifying. As if heaven itself walked with him.
---
Inside the manor, Long Clan elders were discussing tomorrow's clan evaluation.
"Long Wu has reached the third stage of Body Tempering. He'll surely impress Elder Han from Crimson Blade Sect."
"What about… that boy?" one asked mockingly.
"You mean Long Feng?" the elder chuckled. "The disgrace? Don't worry. He won't show up. Probably unconscious somewhere after provoking another fight."
Just then, the doors creaked open.
Long Feng walked in.
Heads turned.
Elders froze. Servants blinked.
The young man—beaten bloody just hours ago—now stood tall with fire in his eyes.
"Long Feng?!"
"You… what are you doing here?"
"I came," he said coolly, "to remind you all that I'm not dead."
"You should've stayed away," an elder growled. "You've embarrassed us for the last time."
Long Feng stepped forward, and despite having no cultivation… his presence made everyone feel like a mountain had descended upon the room.
"You think I'm a disgrace?" he said slowly. "Then allow me to prove otherwise… at tomorrow's evaluation."
Laughter erupted.
"You? With no qi?"
"Don't make a fool of yourself again!"
But Long Feng's gaze didn't waver.
"I'll attend. And you'll all remember this day… as the moment the heavens stopped favoring the proud and started watching the 'trash.'"