Under the radiant white moon, where the wind whispered through the trees, a lone man sipped his tea.

His name was Yanwei.

He was not of this world.

As a child on Earth, he had been obsessed with the idea of immortality. While others dismissed it as childish fantasy, he pursued it with unwavering conviction. Despite being born into wealth, he abandoned luxury and traveled to China, visiting the Wudang sect in search of a path beyond mortality.

He trained, studied, and devoted himself to the Dao. Yet, after years of searching, he found nothing.

Unwilling to give up, he turned to Buddhism, Taoism, and every other practice that even hinted at the possibility of immortality. But in the end, reality was cruel—on January 25th, he died, never uncovering the secret he had longed for.

Yet fate, or perhaps something far more sinister, played a twisted trick on him.

He was reborn into a world where immortals truly existed.

For the first time, he felt hope.

A second chance. A dream come true. A destiny waiting to be fulfilled.

He lay awake at night, unable to sleep, his mind brimming with plans. Even before his “golden finger”—his cheat-like ability—revealed itself, he was already preparing. He would surpass this era.

Ever since he was a child, he had dreamed of being a hero. Saving millions. Bringing light to the world.

He had nearly died once for that dream, stabbed while trying to protect a stranger from a robber. But he didn’t regret it. That was who he was—a warrior, a savior, a future legend.

But what he didn’t know… was that this dream would be his greatest curse.

The Test of Talent

Ten years passed in this new world, and Yanwei learned the laws of cultivation. The world ranked power into nine realms—Rank 1 being the weakest, Rank 9 being the peak. Each realm had four stages: Early, Mid, High, and Peak.

Only the strongest beings of each race stood at Rank 9. Those without such figures would inevitably face genocide.

Yanwei was now ten years old, tall, handsome, with long white hair that made him look like a banished immortal. He was brimming with confidence, convinced that he was the main character of this world.

Then came the day that would determine his future—the Talent Awakening Ceremony.

Talent was divided into five grades: Low, Medium, High, Extreme, and Heavenly

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•Low talent could only reach Rank 1 or 2

•Medium talent peaked at Rank 3 or 4

•High talent could reach Rank 5 or 6.

•Extreme talent could reach Rank 7 or 8.

•Heavenly talent—the rarest—was the known path to Rank 9.

Heavenly talent only appeared once every few thousand years. Yanwei knew his talent would be Heavenly.

He was smart, strong-willed, and looked like a chosen son of heaven itself. Even his family believed it.

Then, the result appeared.

It wasn’t Heavenly.

It wasn’t Extreme.

It wasn’t even High.

It was Low.

The room fell silent

Then came the laughter.

His relatives sneered. His peers mocked him. His parents didn’t even bother defending him.

He was nothing but a disappointment.

A fraud.

At first, he refused to believe it. His golden finger—his destined power—would come soon. It had to.

It had to.

Descent Into Hell

Days passed. Then weeks. Then years. No golden finger came.

Instead, his suffering only worsened.

His peers beat him daily, mocking him for his uselessness. His family didn’t care. As long as they didn’t kill him, they let them do as they pleased.

Bruised and broken, he waited. Still hoping.

One day, he escaped to a mountain cliff, searching for a sign—anything that would prove fate hadn’t abandoned him.

But instead of a miraculous encounter, he was found by someone else.

A woman.

Her name was Dongfang. She was beautiful, arrogant, and born with immense talent. From the moment she laid eyes on Yanwei, she wanted him.

Desire. Obsession. A hunger that made her wet just from thinking about him.

She told her family, and as their spoiled princess, they naturally arranged a marriage.

Yanwei’s family, seeing no worth in him, happily agreed.

Finally, he had a purpose—to be sold off like an object.

At first, Yanwei still clung to hope. He thought marriage might change his fate. That perhaps, just perhaps, his golden finger would activate.

But luck had never been on his side.

For the next four years, he endured the worst fate imaginable.

His peers, jealous of his “good fortune,” beat him even harder. They made sure he left his family half-dead.

Then, when he arrived at his new home, he realized the truth.

Dongfang didn’t want a husband.

She wanted a toy.

A prisoner.

A pet.

Chained to a bed, he became her plaything. She used him whenever she pleased, treating him worse than an animal. His life wasn’t his own.

Then, a year later, fate laughed at him again.

He escaped.

Or so he thought.

He barely made it to the wilderness before he was caught again.

This time, it wasn’t his wife.

It was bandits.

If what he suffered before was hell, this was something worse.

For one and a half years, he endured pure torment. Every time he tried to escape, he was caught. Beaten. Humiliated. Used.

Then one day, something inside him snapped.

The boy who once dreamed of saving the world died.

What remained was a monster.

That night, while the bandit leader lay resting, Yanwei drove a dagger into his back.

Then he ran.

For the first time, he was truly free.

But he was no longer the same person.

He abandoned honor. Morality. Everything.

To survive, he embraced the shadows—poison, assassination, ambushes, slaughter.

He became the thing he once swore to destroy.

The Name That Shook the World

In the dark corners of the world, his name was spoken in hushed whispers.

In a small village on the border of the Celestial Empire, a mother silenced her child, pressing a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that name,” she whispered. “He’ll hear you.”

In the grand halls of the Celestial Dragon Sect, an elder slammed his fist against the table, his voice trembling with rage. “We sent five Rank 8 cultivators after him! Where are their bodies?!”

The messenger before him, drenched in sweat, could barely speak. He had seen it. The massacre. The way that man, Yanwei, had moved. A blur of silver hair. A pair of eyes darker than the abyss itself. The screams that had echoed in the mountains.

He swallowed hard. “There were no bodies, Senior.”

Silence fell.

The elder’s face twisted. “What do you mean, no bodies?”

The messenger shook his head. “He… devoured them.”

Gasps filled the room.

Even the strongest warriors of the sect, men who had faced countless life-or-death battles, felt their stomachs churn.

Devoured.

It was no longer merely fear that surrounded Yanwei.

It was dread.