Espírito Mortal Contra o Mundo

As the crude declaration fell upon Dong Changfeng’s ears, it was like a blade driven straight into his heart. Wang the Steward’s contemptuous gaze and sneering smile only deepened the humiliation, while the surrounding laughter rose like a tide, nearly swallowing him whole.

Dong Changfeng clenched his fists so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. The pain sharpened his senses and made his grim situation all the more real.

Today was the day of the outer disciples’ selection at Azure Cloud Sect, and it was his only chance.

He came from a remote town, scorned as worthless since childhood, and had endured endless sneers and contempt. His worn clothes fluttered lightly in the breeze, and his thin frame looked small and out of place among the richly dressed youths around him.

Those boys laughed and chatted freely, their voices bright and confident, their haughty manner plain for all to see. It was as though every blessing in the world had nothing to do with him.

Dong Changfeng knew this was his one chance to change his fate. If he missed today, he might be forced to remain in that little town for the rest of his life, drifting through it in futility.

At last, he pushed through the crowd and arrived before the stone monument used to test spiritual aptitude. His heart hammered so violently it felt as if it might burst from his chest, and all he could hear was the frantic thudding of his own pulse.

At the testing station, Wang the Steward glanced at him from the corner of his eye, disgust written all over his face. To him, Dong Chan