Within the Realm of Sanctity, far above the 10 heavens, exists 12 universes of Rune Sanctuaries and 36 Minor Rune Temples. Each of these Sanctuaries and Temples, holds countless runes each having the power of a different aspect or element.
Humans of the mortal plane use these runes to cultivate, using the power of the 12 Sanctuaries, humans draw in the natural energies of the world into their mind and body. The higher level of Sanctuary one would get their Rune from, the stronger their ability to gather in the natural energies. These people were called Martial Patrons.
There are also the Magic Advocates. These people use both the power of the 12 Sanctuaries and 36 Temples, to cultivate their mind and soul. These people focus less attention on the body and more on the soul. There are even legends of some Magic Cultivators being able to live for a few minutes without their Flesh and bones. Of course, their bodies are very weak compared to those Martial Cultivators.
Some geniuses would be able to obtain the power of a Rune every big realm. There are even legends of those who can get the power of a Minor Rune every small realm. Everyone who had the talent to become a Martial Patrons or Magic Advocates are bound to be peerless and influential figures in the mortal world.
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South of the Wen province, in the kingdom of Bon, was a large clan. The Wey Clan.
Before he was struck by sunlight, Argan was already having a bad day
Argan was sleeping under an apple tree, a book was open on his lap.
"Argan. Who gave you the right to sleep?" A boy towered over Argan. Having short red hair and deep blue eyes, his age nearing 16. "You still haven't done my laundry!", Two other young men spectated behind the red haired boy as he made his threats. Argan said nothing as he furrowed his brows at the young man, his gaze piercing, his attention only focused on the man over him.
"Hmph, don't look at me with those eyes." With this line one of the men behind the red haired boy started to snicker, and threw a bundle of clothes in Argan's direction. "You should learn your place as someone who can't cultivate. Now, get to work or I'll beat you."
"I'll remember this, Jackson," Argan spoke resolutely.
"What the hell is you remembering this gonna do?", Jackson then stepped foward and brought his foot up in a swift motion to strike Argan's upper chest, launching Argan a few feet back, as he tumbled next to the clothes. "Ha! You can't cultivate while I can. No matter what, I'll always be better than you! Now, Get to work!" Argan Glared at them as he struggled back up, his anger rising higher than the heavens. He picked up the clothes, and limped off as the three young men's laughs filled the space that he left.
'Luckily, Jackson didnt use much strength with that kick,' Argan thought as he walked into a dense forest with lush green trees, and the sweet songs of the birds, followed a faint path towards a river. Out here, Argan felt a sense of respite, away from all his troubles, his anger still seething through his bones. When he got to the river at the end of the path, he scrutinized his appearance. His long flowing silver hair, and white irises stared back at him in deadpan. His heart was cold, full of anger. He had no one, no one to care for him in this world. His parents had passed when he was still young. All he had was a memoir-an amulet. The circular amulet had a small white gem in the middle of two dragons. He never could understand the meaning behind it, but he still held it close to his heart. He clutched the locket in his fist, as he lamented in his heart.
Stolen novel; please report.
'Why, why can't I cultivate?! This feeling, the feeling of being weak is unbearbale!' he thought, his heart filled with rage, and confusion. He relased his anger with a loud yell, making himself feel a little better.
Unwillingly, he picked up the first batch of clothing. As he put the clothes into the washbasin, all his head was filled with was rage. he felt a cold energy seeping into his body. He kept washing and scrubbing, shirt by shirt. Eventually, the cold energy reached his hands. As soon as it did, the shirt in his hands had froze. Argan was shocked.
'what...what is this?' He thought to himself, as he looked at his hands in awe. His first reaction was to point it towards a rock, to see if that did anything, but nothing happened. He was confused. 'Why would this power come out of nowhere?' he thought.
Instinctively, he reached for the amulet around his neck. As soon as he touched it, a birght light emerged from the gem. As it did, it released a terrifying pressure, pushing Argan down to a kneel. Argan stared at the light, full of awe. The light kept on getting brighter and brighter until Argan fainted from the might. As soon as he did, the light instantly went away.
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Argan awoke, seeing nothing but white.
"Where am I?" He said quietly. He wasn't expecting an answer but got one anyway.
"You, are within your consciousness." A loud, cold voice said. A large silhouette appeared, slowly revealing a man with white hair and irises, much like Argan.
Argan stared at the figure, not saying anything, with a confused look.
"It seems you've finally awakened your bloodline. Good. At such a young age, as well."
Argan soon came to a realization. "That cold energy. Was that my power?"
"Exactly. It can only be awakened when one is filled with desire, willing to sacrifice anything. Think of it as a test. You wouldn't have 'awakened' otherwise." the man said. "As a reward, take this manual. You've probably wondered, why you can't cultivate. That's because you have a special constitution."
"What do you mean?" Argan asked, but soon answered his own question. "I heard that there are special divine constitutions where there is a specific path of cultivation that works only for that body. Is that what you mean?"
"Precisely. It seems you aren't dumb either. Now, take this manual. You won't be able to come back here until you've reached the third level." The man said as he handed out a manual. Argan grabbed it. As soon as he did, then the silhouette slowly disappeared. After, Argan fell unconscious again.
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Argan awoke, in the same spot he was in before, except he had the manual in his hands. The shirt he had frozen had thawed. Inside his consciousness, time had continued on, but in the outside world, only a second had passed. He was in a good mood. Unknowingly he put the manual down and continued washing the clothes. 30 minutes had passed, and he finished his task. He grabbed the bundle of clothes, and hung them up on a branch to dry. After he had done that, he sat down near a rock and opened the manual.
"'Immortal Sword Manual'" Argan muttered. 'The point of this manual is to reach the pinnacle of sword arts. To look down upon all others in arrogance. To become... immortal.' He read. 'First Level: Body Tempering. This tempers the body. The marrow, the organs, and the flesh with undergo a tempering, making them stronger than an averge human. First, breathe 3 breaths in, and two breaths out within five seconds. Do this, and once you feel a cold energy enter your body, direct it into your bones, into your marrow. This will bring excrutiating pain. Do this for the marrow, organs ,and flesh.' Thats all that was written. Argen flipped the pages only to find them all blank except for that first one. He was confused.
'Why would there only be one page?' He thought. Filled with confusion, he still followed the instructions, going onto the first steps of cultivation.