Sam had been nothing but a simple village boy—born a mortal and raised on a farm a mountain range away from Darklight City. As a child, he was told stories of the elusive cultivators that lived on the mountain peaks. How they could fly through the skies and effortlessly slaughter the monsters the mortals were so afraid of with a finger flick. They sounded like unbelievable fairy tales to the young Sam until he grew old enough to join his old man on a trip to Darklight City to sell their produce to the millions of mortals there.
Passing the mining area, he laid eyes on a man who looked too perfect. His skin was flawless as if crafted from porcelain; his eyes were sharp, and the immaculate white robe carried a sense of majesty. The difference between this man and the line of mortals before him was like the gap between heaven and earth.
"Father, who is that?" he whispered to his old man, who was controlling the horse and drawing their cart loaded with vegetables. "Is he a noble?"
"Don't point at him," His father hissed back with a grave look on his tired and sunkissed face, "That is a cultivator."
Sam's eyes widened as he looked back at the white-haired man. That was a cultivator? Sure, he had this aura around him that showed he was different from the common man, but he still looked human. In his mind, cultivators were giant ethereal beings from the tales—not handsome humans.
"Mortal, did you think your tricks would escape my notice?" The cultivator casually told the man standing before him with a half-filled dusty sack clutched in his callous hands.
The man gulped, "Whatever do you mean, my lord?"
"You are trying to smuggle spirit stones in your clothes without paying the tax," the cultivator said, looking down his nose at the mortal.
"L-Lord Winterwrath, it was an honest mistake," The accused man dropped to his knees on the rough stone and groveled at the cultivator's feet. "I ran out of space in my bag, so I used my pockets to carry the excess spirit stones! It was not my intention to question your rule—"
White flames wreathed the cultivator's hand, and with a simple tap on the man's forehead, he was flash-frozen into a groveling ice statue.
"Mortals should learn their place," the cultivator lightly kicked the ice statue in the face, shattering it into a million bloodied shards that showered the line of mortals waiting behind.
Sam felt his heart freeze in his chest. What just happened?! He turned to his father to share his utter shock but was met with a disinterested stare. Sam's father didn't offer any commentary; instead, he shook his head and pulled on the reins to quicken the horse. Once they were halfway down the road with Darklight City dominating their view, Sam was finally able to suppress the tightness in his chest and stutter out.
"He really killed a man."
"That he did," his father answered bluntly as if they were discussing the weather.
"Shouldn't the cultivator be punished for that? How can he just kill someone so casually like that?"
His father stopped the horse and slapped Sam so hard it shocked him awake. "Don't you ever have such useless thoughts again, my son," he said in a grave tone his usually cheerful father had never used before, "We toil away on the lands and the mines for the cultivators, and in return, they protect us from the beasts. When it comes to the cultivators, there is no law—they are the law. If they wish to kill you in the street for looking at them funny, then they can do so, and nobody will dare to stop them."
"Not even the other cultivators?"
His father looked at him as if he were stupid, "Why would they? To them, we are no better than rats. Have you ever thought twice about killing the rats eating our crops?"
"No..." Sam admitted. In fact, he liked to kill those disgusting creatures after hearing them scampering through the ceiling at night.
His father pulled on the reins to continue their slow journey toward Darklight City, "Now you know how cultivators think about us."
That day, Sam learned the truth about cultivators and has been fascinated by them ever since. He would take every opportunity to visit the city to catch a glimpse of them. Soon, he learned there was a difference between cultivators, just like with mortals. The noble cultivators lived atop the mountain peaks and lorded from above, while the rogue cultivators, who seemed far more human, roughed it with the mortals in Darklight City.
"Father, why can't I be a cultivator?"
His old man leaned on his shovel and wiped his sweat with a hole-filled rag, "Only those chosen by the heavens can be cultivators."
Sam frowned, "So I wasn't chosen?"
His father shrugged and pulled his shovel from the dirt. "Who knows? I never got your spirit roots checked at the academy, but you haven't shown any signs of detecting the whispers of heaven or absorbing more Qi than the rest of us. If you were born to be a cultivator, you would have developed faster and wouldn't be so scrawny."
Sam narrowed his eyes, "Why didn't you get me tested to be sure?"
His father laughed as he dug the shovel into the ground and threw up dirt in a swift motion, "Because then you wouldn't help me on the farm, and those evaluations aren't cheap, ya know? Cost an arm and a leg."
Sam begged every birthday for a chance to be tested, but he always received the same answers:
His father would say, "It's too expensive. Now go work in the fields."
"The chance of a farming family like us producing a cultivator is one in a million," his mother would repeat with a tired smile while ruffling his hair. "It's not even worth the journey to the academy, Sam."
They treated him like an ignorant child.
"I hate living like this," Sam muttered to himself on one fateful rainy night as he was outside toiling the fields alone. All that was on his mind was wanting to leave behind his mortal life as a villager and join the ranks of the cultivators. It was his dream.
"What are these monsters we are so afraid of anyway? I have never seen them, yet we cower behind these walls and give half our money to the cultivators." Sam ranted as the rain roared in his ears, soaking him down to the bone.
His whole life felt like a lie.
He was just supposed to shut up and accept being nothing but a farmer until he died at the ripe old age of a hundred and twenty?
That was when he made a life-changing decision to venture into the woods in search of one of these monsters.
The dense canopy gave him some respite from the rain, and before long, he found himself lost in the darkness. That is when he encountered that thing in a clearing—an insect larger than a hut with razor-sharp claws dripping with rain. He turned and ran. It hunted him for days, and as Sam hid shivering under a rock in a puddle of mud, he swore if he survived somehow, he would return to his life as a farmer boy and work hard for the cultivators. The monsters were far too terrifying!
As he knocked on death's door, the stone was pulled away, and to his surprise, a blonde-haired girl offered him salvation—a cultivator. Something his father swore was impossible had happened. The cultivator not only saved him, a mere mortal, but she also promised he had the potential to follow the path of a cultivator and would even teach him if he reached the top of the mountain.
From then on, his life in the village changed. Instead of being forced by his father to work the fields, he was told and supported by the whole village to practice the sword and meditate on heaven's whispers.
Which he did. Every single day. From morning until night, he would swing the crude wooden sword his father made for him until his arms went numb, and then he would meditate in different locations to try and hear the whispers of heaven.
"Maybe she lied to you," his father suggested one day, "You have spent hours meditating every day with no improvement. In this state, you would disgrace yourself if you dared to try and climb the mountain."
"Why would she lie?" Sam snapped back with frustration. He didn't want to agree with such a theory, but deep down, he was starting to also have doubts. If he showed up at the mountain peak after so long with no capabilities to wield Qi, maybe they would kill him on the spot for wasting their time.
His father shrugged as he walked off to the fields, "We all dreamed of soaring through the skies at some point in our lives. But the world has a nasty habit of reminding us of our place. We are mortals, and they are cultivators. We belong down here, son."
Sam gritted his teeth. He refused to give up on his dreams like his father had, so he doubled his efforts. His muscles became more defined, and his mind became a spotless temple surrounded by a serene lake. No matter how much the villagers began to doubt his capabilities, he stuck with it, working harder and harder.
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One day, the cultivator who saved him made a surprise return with their disciple in tow. They both wore masks and spoke to him from the sky, reminding him of their differences. To Sam's bewilderment, he wasn't shamed for his lack of progress. Instead, he was encouraged and gifted a truffle, a bottle of pills, and a parchment that detailed a basic breathing technique. He was then informed of a tournament occurring in a month.
After the cultivators left, Sam scurried off to his room and devoured the truffle. His body expelled black sludge as his spirit roots unclogged, and despite the stench, he took in a deep breath according to the diagrams on the parchment, and to his shock, he finally felt it.
Qi—the underlying power of creation flowed through his body in a noticeable enough way that he could focus it on particular muscles. With a grin, he strode out and under the eyes of the villagers and punched a dead tree down in a single strike.
Finally, the power he had wanted for so long was at his fingertips, and it was all thanks to that cultivator. He basked in the village's praise and received numerous marriage proposals from neighboring villages. But in the end, he began to distance himself from the villagers.
They were different now. Heaven's whispers opened up his perspective of the world, and as he meditated and saw how vast and intertwined reality was, he couldn't help but feel that the village was suffocatingly small and their lives were meaningless. He tried to explain the whispers of reality to the villagers, but they couldn't understand him. They needed to see, but without open spirit roots, it would never happen.
The following month passed in a blur as he shut himself away and trained non-stop until the day the skies over Red Vine Peak darkened and the heavens unleashed their wrath.
With the rest of the villagers, he had gathered in the town square and gazed up at the mountain peak as thousands of lightning bolts rained down relentlessly. They watched in awe, the hours slipping by unnoticed, as the dazzling spectacle showed no sign of stopping.
"The tribulation for the Ravenborne Grand Elder's ascension was nothing like this," his father muttered while scratching the back of his head, "Just how much did that person infuriate the heavens?"
"You don't think it's my master?" Sam asked. Since he had been gifted the art of cultivation by the blonde-haired cultivator, she was his master as far as he was concerned.
"She seemed powerful, but it's likely her master that is causing this." His father shuddered, "To think such an earth-shatteringly powerful cultivator was living nearby."
That Sam had to agree with. Having started on the path of cultivation, he couldn't fathom the level someone had to reach to incite such a reaction from the heavens.
"I need to train even harder," Sam clenched his fist. For the next week, under the constant booming thunder and flashing of lightning, he trained until his hands bled and he heard the heavens whispers in his sleep.
"What was that," Sam's eyes snapped open, and he pushed his exhausted body to stand. Opening his door, he noticed the sky overhead had cleared up, and the Qi throughout the land had changed. It feels so fresh and pure. What happened?
Unsure of what to make of it, he returned to his training. Despite his efforts, progress was not as fast as he wanted. He needed to beat his master's disciple in the tournament to earn her favor. Sam gritted his teeth and tripled his efforts. Only to be interrupted by a person wearing a black cloak embroidered with a red eye two days later.
"Hello, boy. I heard from asking around that you have shown promise as a cultivator?"
"Depends on who's asking," Sam said while directing some Qi to his fingertips. The other villages had not taken the news of his progress kindly, as his presence elevated the prestige of his village too far above the others.
"I represent the All-Seeing Eye," the woman smiled, "I'm passing through villages and offering anyone curious to join a free welcome package."
"Darn cult," his father muttered under his breath.
The woman's smile hardly faltered at the accusation.
"What does the welcome package contain?" Sam asked curiously.
"We believe everyone has the right to cultivation under the All-Seeing Eye's benevolent gaze. The welcome package contains a pill that will help awaken dormant spirit roots," the woman gave Sam a wink, "It's not strong enough to achieve spirit roots as pure as yours, but it will help any mortal cycle a little Qi."
Sam was pushed aside as his father strode past, "How many other villagers accepted your offer?"
"Mhm," the woman tapped her chin in thought, "Almost all of them, though some did say no. Funnily enough, around half the villagers who initially said no ran after me only a few hours later."
"I see," Sam's father stroked his chin. "Is it really free and works?"
"Yes, I swear on the All-Seeing Eye that your path to becoming a cultivator will start today under his guidance." The woman bowed slightly, "This welcome package is his benevolence. You are not required to do anything after receiving it."
More villagers had gathered, and soon enough, everyone accepted a package and giddily returned to their huts.
Meanwhile, Sam inspected the pill's smell and concluded it was made from the truffle his master had given him. The other pills and instructions provided in the welcome package were quite helpful.
"So my master has a hand in this?" Sam wondered as he put on the provided cloak. It was a little big on him, as it seemed to be a standardized size, but he just folded the sleeves. Walking outside, he glanced up at Red Vine Peak. Master, what is your plan here? I thought I was special, but now I have to wonder... did you uplift me just to cause jealousy among my fellow villagers?
If so, just how far did her plans go?
The stench of impurities became overwhelming, and by sundown, the villagers emerged with grins. They had stepped on the path of cultivation and were eager to let him know about it and beg him for guidance.
"Son, thanks to the All-Seeing Eye's benevolence, things are about to change around here," his father patted him on the back as he stood before everyone wearing the provided black cloaks, "Cultivators have always been heavens' chosen—it was unheard of for a mortal to dare walk their path. But now, with the All-Seeing Eye watching over us, we too can challenge the heavens." His father stepped forward and raised his arms triumphantly, "If every other village also accepted the All-Seeing Eye's benevolence, then we must work hard to stay ahead of them. If everyone is special, then nobody is!"
A cheer rang out through the village.
***
Days passed, and the night of the All-Seeing Eye's service dawned. As twilight turned to dusk, portals rippled into existence across the land. In every single village, town, and city surrounding Red Vine Peak, streams of mortals dressed in matching black robes embroidered with red eyes made their way through the rifts and spilled out onto floating islands.
Sam led his village through their portal.
"Welcome to tonight's service," a man whose features were obscured by the cloak hood said in a pleasant tone, "To survive the experience, everyone is required to take these pills."
"To survive?" Sam asked as he was handed a handful of multicolored pills.
"Yes, the presence of the All-Seeing Eye can be rather intense on the untrained mind," the man gestured for him to move along and repeated the same words to those behind him.
Sam shrugged and followed the rest of the worshipers down a stone path that snaked through towering black stone spires encrusted with glowing red gems polished into the appearance of eyes that gave Sam an unsettling feeling. Rounding a corner, his breath was taken away by the breathtaking view of nine giant moons that dominated the sky from the horizon until the peak.
Where the hell are we? Sam wondered as he paused beside many other people and strained his neck to take in the otherwordly spectacle. Why is one of them purple?
With nobody around to answer his question and eager to not have to stand alongside his family and village during the service, he disappeared into the shifting crowd and took up a spot behind a fence.
Okay, the moon was one thing, but this...
He stared at a living tower of pulsating white flesh that vaguely resembled a tree with a canopy of bare-bones wreathed in a golden aura. An uncountable number of slits flickered open and closed like eyelids, with each one concealing numerous eyes that rolled in their sockets and made Sam's skin crawl.
Surrounding the tower of white flesh were dozens of floating islands, much like his own, wreathed in a purple hue.
I didn't think I would need these pills after all of my training, but if the service hasn't even started and this is what I have to look at... Sam found himself humbled real quick and downed the handful of pills without a second thought.
To his surprise, the air began to shimmer as the pills took effect, and soon, he was looking around like a lost child at the streams of Qi rushing all around him. Vivid greens, deep blues, bright purples, and murky browns all intertwined into spirals of color.
When I cultivate, the Qi streams are disorderly and impossible to separate. I never realized it could all be so clear. Sam felt a newfound appreciation for the All-Seeing Eye due to this experience. Even if he couldn't get a hold of these pills again, he felt enlightened to the truths governing reality.
Curious, he leaned on the fence and looked down. Encircling the tower of living flesh was a forest of creepy-looking trees fed by streams of gold that flowed out of the base of the white flesh tower. A blood mist shrouded the whole thing in mystery.
How is this place real? Sam bit his lip as he took it all in. I thought I was closing the gap as my cultivation advanced, but this is on another level of unfathomable. Is this something a mere cultivator can achieve, or is it reserved for the realm of the gods?
A gong sound shook Sam to his soul, followed by the sky tearing apart. An impossible-to-describe eye of godly proportions peered through the rift, and Sam felt his whole body freeze. He had never felt so small and insignificant before.
"We will now begin the very first service to the All-Seeing Eye!" A woman's voice, carried by Qi, reached everyone's ears as a black rock ship nestled in the canopy of bone emerged and took center stage, lording over all the other islands.
Standing on its bow was a purple-haired woman wearing the same black cloak as everyone else but had its hood down. "My name is Elysia, and I am the Vice Leader. Here to my left is the Head Priestess Stella."
Sam could not see the woman's face as she was wearing a black mask with a giant red eye painted on it.
The taller person beside Elysia took down her cloak hood, and despite also wearing a mask, Sam narrowed his eyes. That short blonde hair and red maple leaf earrings. I recognize her. But from where... His eyes widened in shock. It was his master. She was the head of the All-Seeing Eye?
"Now we can begin the ceremony to honor the All-Seeing Eye's generosity to you all," Elysia announced. But a wave of confusion rang out as multiple cloaked individuals soared into the air from every island on swords and encircled the black rock ship with a red-leaf tree growing on it.
One of the cultivators floated slightly closer and pointed toward Sam's master. "Stella Crestfallen! We have traversed across the realm and searched high and low for you with the intention of bringing you home. However, in light of what you are doing here with this accursed abomination pretending to be a god, by command of the highest chair in the Celestial Order, you are hereby sentenced to death."
Every one of them drew a sword that shone with golden light and pointed it toward Stella. An overwhelming pressure flooded the land. These guys were powerful.
"Any final words?"
Stella stepped forward, "Yeah, I have some."
"What would that be?" the leader asked.
As Stella raised her arm, Sam saw a section of the flesh trees below wither into dust. A moment later, a purple hue ballooned out, encompassing everything.
"Perish, under the wrath of a supposedly fake god," Stella said simply, pointing at the accuser. Pitch-black lightning silently arched through the air, instantly striking every one of the cultivators and reducing them to nothingness. Their now ownerless swords fell like rain to the forest of flesh below.
Silence from every island followed as everyone tried to process what had just happened.
"Anyone else dares to question the legitimacy of the All-Seeing Eye?" Stella's voice boomed across the land. Receiving no takers, she quietly stepped back and let the service continue.