Chapter One: The Youth

“Hiss… so cold… so hot…”
It was the height of summer, not the dead of winter, yet a bizarre scene was unfolding—a fourteen-year-old boy curled up, his body radiating heat even as his breath misted in the air, shivering in agony.
This boy, named Chen Mu, was an outer disciple of the Starwatching Valley within the Grand Xia Empire. He had successfully opened his primal meridians at the age of twelve and come to the valley to cultivate. Yet, for reasons unknown, his progress was painfully slow; after two years, he remained only at the initial stage of the Meridian Opening Realm.
But that was not the worst of it. Since beginning his cultivation, Chen Mu had suffered from a strange illness the elders called “Frost-Fire Syndrome.” His body alternated between extremes—at times freezing as if submerged in ice, at others burning like a furnace. This constant battle of cold and heat steadily sapped his life force, though some mysterious power kept him clinging to life. The elders said he might not live past twenty, yet no diagnosis could reveal the illness’s true cause.
“Not good, Chen Mu’s Frost-Fire Syndrome is acting up again. You all keep working, I’ll fetch the steward.”
With a hurried command, one disciple dashed from the herb garden straight toward the Medicine Hall.
Panting, he called out loudly, “Steward Liu! Chen Mu’s Frost-Fire Syndrome has flared up again!”
“What, that rascal Chen is sick again? Come, take me to him!”
Steward Liu Quan, who had been reading leisurely in his rocking chair, tossed aside his book and fan and hurried after the disciple to the herb garden.
“Wake up, Chen! Wake up, boy!”
Ignoring the biting cold and searing heat radiating from Chen Mu, Liu Quan lightly slapped his face to bring him to his senses.
Once Liu had helped him sit upright, he began channeling his own energy to balance Chen Mu’s. Within the boy, two unknown and opposing forces of cold and heat clashed; Liu’s role was to guide and separate them so they would no longer fight. Only then did the color slowly return to Chen Mu’s face.
“Feeling any better now?” Liu Quan asked with concern.
“Yes, much better. Thank you, Steward Liu.”
“If you want to thank someone, thank Zhang Jiudan. If he hadn’t come running to tell me you were in trouble, those warring energies inside you would have tormented you for days before I could suppress them.”
“Thank you, Zhang Jiudan.”
“It’s nothing, we’re all brothers here. Of course we look out for each other.”
“For now, don’t work. Go back and rest in your cabin. Come back only when you’re feeling better,” Liu Quan advised after a moment’s thought.
“Alright.”
Chen Mu felt guilty—outer disciples were expected to work, yet because of his illness, he was frequently excused, increasing the burden on the others. Though the other disciples never complained, it troubled him to trouble them so often.

In the outer disciples’ residential area,
Chen Mu returned weakly to his small wooden cabin and lay on the hard plank bed. He found himself missing his home.
But even then, he was uncertain if he truly belonged there. In his memories, home was a place in the heart of the Grand Xia Empire, a city called Fancheng—its third most prosperous metropolis.
The Chen family was one of the great houses of Fancheng, but Chen Mu was not born to them. The family head, Chen Haoran, had brought him back from one of his travels.
Many believed Chen Mu to be Chen Haoran’s illegitimate son, but the elders knew he had no Chen blood. As a result, the family never acknowledged him, and the other children refused to play with him.

Yet, this mattered little. Chen Haoran was a good father, raising Chen Mu from infancy despite the family’s disapproval. Protected beneath Haoran’s broad wings, Chen Mu grew up strong until he was twelve.
At twelve, the family invited a Meridian Awakener to help the younger generation open their primal veins. Most children only developed this potential at fourteen or fifteen, but Chen Mu succeeded at twelve.
Haoran was overjoyed, but bad news soon followed—a strange illness, one that left Chen Mu alternating between fever and chill, an inexplicable disease that consumed his life force.
Doctors declared he would not live past twenty. Desperate, Haoran sought out every healer to no avail.
Fortunately, Haoran was well-connected and an old friend of Gu Xingyuan, the master of Starwatching Valley. Thus, he brought twelve-year-old Chen Mu to the valley.
Gu Xingyuan, a powerful cultivator at the Nascent Soul stage, could not discern the illness’s nature either. He named it “Frost-Fire Syndrome” for its alternating symptoms.
After some discussion, Gu Xingyuan took Chen Mu under his care, attempting to treat him and accepting him as an outer disciple.

Recalling all this left Chen Mu feeling lost. His life was so brief—if he were to die at twenty, he had only six years left. That was all the time separating him from death. Other children his age were training or playing, but he was already contemplating mortality, his purpose, and the desire to live.
With a sigh, he forced these thoughts aside and focused on recuperating.
The “Stellar Refinement Manual” was the foundational technique taught in Starwatching Valley. To reach the Meridian Opening Realm, one needed to awaken thirty-six Celestial Meridians. After two years, Chen Mu had opened only six—a painfully slow pace.
He circulated energy through these six meridians once, and only then did some strength return to his frail body.
After an hour of recovery, feeling restored, he left his cabin and returned to the herb garden.
Work there was simple: watering, pest control, and channeling spiritual energy into the plants.
Arriving at the field, Zhang Jiudan noticed him and called out, “Feeling better? Don’t force yourself; we can cover your share.”
“I’m alright now,” Chen Mu replied apologetically. “It’s not right to trouble you all the time. Once I’m well, I should do my part.”
One disciple grumbled, “If Chen Mu wants to work, let him. Every time we have to pick up his share, he feels bad about it.”
Zhang Jiudan glared at him. “You talk too much. What’s wrong with helping each other? We’re the lowest of the disciples—if we don’t help each other, who will?”
The disciple shrugged, saying no more.
Chen Mu smiled, took a soulstone issued by the sect for nourishing the plants, then used the Stellar Refinement Manual to refine his energy and poured it into a spiritual plant.
He worked the entire morning. Nourished by his energy, the plants seemed more vibrant. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Chen Mu parted from the others and climbed the mountain alone.

On a broad, empty slope, he began his daily regimen—physical training.
He reasoned that though his cultivation was slow, it shouldn’t stop him from strengthening his body. Perhaps, if he became strong enough, he could outlast the Frost-Fire Syndrome. He strapped on homemade weighted sandbags and began running.
Strangely, every time he pushed himself to exhaustion, a warm current would well up from within, suddenly filling him with energy. For two years this had been so, and without realizing it, his strength and endurance had far surpassed that of an ordinary adult.
Running, lifting, and other exercises took him through to dusk.
Just as he was about to return, Chen Mu heard a commotion in the woods behind him. He guessed it might be wild animals, and remembering he hadn’t eaten dinner, resolved to catch some unlucky game for a meal.
Moving quietly into the trees, he swallowed nervously, picked up a sturdy stick, and stepped forward.
Deep in the woods, he heard faint whimpers. There, one of the outer sect’s famed beauties, Sister Youlan, was struggling furiously beneath an inner disciple named He Silai.
Startled, Chen Mu’s heart pounded. Sister Youlan was the dream of many outer disciples. Now, seeing her at He Silai’s mercy, he knew that if anyone found out, disaster would follow.
A sudden snap—he had stepped on a branch.
“Who’s there?” He Silai’s face darkened. “Who dares spy on me?”
A wave of killing intent swept toward Chen Mu, making his legs go weak.
Sensing He Silai’s ruthlessness, Chen Mu turned and fled down the mountain. If He Silai caught him, it would be a calamity.
“Hmph! Think you can escape?” He Silai’s grim face twisted as he drew his saber and gave chase.
With his Foundation Establishment Realm power, He Silai swiftly closed the distance.
He caught sight of Chen Mu—a mere outer disciple. “So it’s an outer disciple? You have guts to spoil my plans! Prepare to die!”
“You can’t kill me! The sect forbids disciples from harming each other!”
He Silai sneered, “You’re just an outer disciple—who would care if you died out here? Consider it an honor to die by my blade. Remember my name: He Silai.”
He lunged, raising his broad saber and plunged it into Chen Mu’s frail body, watching the boy’s weak frame struggle in vain until, at last, all movement ceased.
Rain poured down. With a contemptuous curl of his lip, He Silai sheathed his blade and walked away, leaving the small, thin body sprawled on the ground, drenched in blood and rain.