Ding Sheng tightly clenched his fists, his emotions surging. He vowed to himself that one day he would cultivate an ultimate skill, wield unmatched martial prowess, stand alone atop the peak, defeat heroes with a single sword, and survey all mountains from above.

Of course, for now, he was just an unnoticed lowly cleaner. Leaving the square announcement area, he soon arrived at the back mountain of the Wanjian Sect, where the environment was in stark contrast to the front mountain's breathtaking beauty, resembling a filthy and chaotic slum.

The area was overgrown with thorns, treacherous terrain, and bizarre rocks, akin to a realm of monsters. The daily refuse produced by the thousands living in Wanjian Sect was dumped here, resulting in decades of accumulation, where the sun and wind had led to a foul stench, with snakes and rats roaming freely. The air was thick with a nauseating odor, making it feel almost like hell.

Yet, amidst this harsh environment, makeshift huts crowded the rocky landscape, reminiscent of a Brazilian slum, housing at least two to three thousand people. The former Ding Sheng had once lived here.

"This must be the slum of Wanjian Sect. D*mn it, it seems I'll never escape the fate of a loser, and can only slowly rise against it," he thought. According to the memories he had absorbed, most residents in this garbage-laden area were from the Wanjian Sect's Cleaning Division, low-ranking individuals who were not martial artists, lacking the strength to survive in the perilous wilderness filled with monsters. They relied on humble labor for the Sect's protection, living like ants in this dangerous world.

Along the winding path, straw huts were built against the stone walls. The sun and wind had darkened the surface of the straw, evoking a sense of time's passage. The carefree laughter of children echoed around, and faint aromas drifted from some huts, where thin wisps of smoke rose, infusing the filthy area with life.

As he walked, many greeted Ding Sheng warmly, all friends of the body’s former owner. Ding Sheng smiled, responding kindly to each.

Soon, he passed through a narrow path and found a deep abyss beyond the slum, near the garbage dump. However, to his surprise, there was a vibrant patch of green at the edge of the garbage—dozens of little saplings swaying in the evening breeze, like delicate green fairies dancing. A small courtyard enclosed by a green fence surrounded two neatly built straw huts, creating a pleasing contrast against the nearby garbage.

This was Ding Sheng's home.

He pushed open the fence gate and gently entered the yard. There, over twenty flowerpots were neatly arranged, filled with ordinary wildflowers, common on the paths of the front mountain’s temple but beautiful in this setting. After tending to the flowers for a while, he entered the straw hut.

The evening light dimly illuminated the room. There was little furniture inside—just a worn wooden bed covered with a thin cloth, a four-legged table with a missing leg, a makeshift stove of piled stones, a dark iron pot, basic cooking tools, and some worn jars containing pickled vegetables and meats. The walls hung with simple, very old utensils.

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The only notable item was a little girl's cotton jacket hanging on the wall. Made from coarse cloth, it was ordinary in craftsmanship but impeccably clean. Its bright red color added warmth and vibrancy to the otherwise dreary hut.

As Ding Sheng stepped in, his eyes immediately fell upon the jacket. It was the one his sister Ding Ke'er had worn before she went missing.

In his memories, it was a snowy afternoon three years ago when he returned from his chores to find his sister waiting for him, only to discover she had vanished. He searched the entire slum frantically. Later, many claimed to have seen a mysterious figure in white, resembling a celestial being, who had passed by the hut and taken the crying little girl Ding Ke'er away.

Then, Ding Sheng discovered words he had previously overlooked inscribed on a wooden post in the hut: "This girl is fated to me, capable of following my path. South Region, inscription by Mu Huang Tianji." The characters seemed alive, pulsating with a strange power. Anyone who stared too long would feel dizzy, and many in the slum believed it to be a message left by a powerful expert.

But who was Mu Huang Tianji? No one knew.

One thing was certain: the South Region was very far away, so distant that even the fastest horse couldn't reach it in a lifetime without rest.

After Ding Ke'er disappeared, the red jacket became a symbol of all the longing and memories the former Ding Sheng had held onto for three long years.

At this moment, upon seeing the red jacket, a torrent of memories surged into Ding Sheng's mind—moments spent with his sister, flashing before his eyes like a film reel, while a deep-seated sorrow spread through his soul like invasive weeds.

"Brother, why don't Mom and Dad want us anymore? Where did they go?" "Brother, I'm hungry. Can you make me porridge?" "Wow, what a beautiful jacket! Brother, is it really for me? Thank you!" "Brother, when I grow up, I promise to make you good food every day..." "Brother..."

The familiar, sweet voice of the little girl echoed in his ears, leaving Ding Sheng standing at the door, tears streaming down his face. A nearly uncontrollable urge surged within him, compelling him to rush out and find his sister.

Ding Sheng didn’t want to cry.

But he was powerless against it. A profound sadness enveloped his very soul.

He knew this was due to the memory merging; the previous owner's deep familial love and longing for his missing sister were overwhelming his emotions.

Ding Sheng gazed at the jacket on the wall, an endless tide of thoughts swirling within him. The bright red color was like a wound, piercing every corner of his heart. Three years ago, as snowflakes fell and the slum was wrapped in a blanket of white, he found himself lost in boundless despair. His sister's laughter resonated in his mind, a clear sound like silver bells, making it impossible for him to forget.

He recalled the warm moments they shared, two children supporting each other through difficult days in their humble hut. Each night, he would make porridge for Ke'er, the warmth filling the hut with her sweet laughter. Back then, they were fearless, believing that as long as they had each other, they could withstand any storm. Yet, fate's cruelty shattered their lives in an instant, leaving only deep pain and longing.

Now, the memory of Ke'er's disappearance twisted like a knife in Ding Sheng's heart. The image of her being taken by a mysterious figure haunted him still. He couldn't fathom who that person was or why they had taken his only source of solace. In this garbage-laden slum, he lived, but the emptiness and pain within him felt like an unfathomable abyss.

He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of inner strength. This power didn’t come from his body, but from his profound longing and sense of responsibility for Ke'er. Ding Sheng understood that he needed to become strong; only then could he one day find his sister and uncover the mystery of her disappearance. He would fight for her, embark on the path of reversal, and transform ultimate skills into the means to fulfill his wishes. In this desolate place, perhaps his fate would change, and the memories of familial love would propel him forward.