Crimson Leaf Village lay nestled at the foot of the Greencloud Mountains, its name born from the maple trees that ignited the horizon with blazing red leaves every autumn. Though beautiful, it was a quiet, backwater village known only for its medicinal herbs and peaceful fields. Rarely did outsiders come, and even more rarely did they stay.
Among the village's simple folk lived a boy unlike the rest.
His name was Lin Feng.
Fifteen winters old, lean from hunger and hardened by a life of struggle, Lin Feng lived alone in a worn, creaking cottage near the village outskirts. His parents had died when he was five—slain during a raid by mountain bandits. Since then, he'd survived on scraps, odd jobs, and the mercy of a half-senile old healer who taught him the basics of herbal medicine and body refinement before passing away two years ago.
Lin Feng didn't complain. He didn't cry. He worked.
Every day, before dawn, he would venture into the forest. Where others feared wild beasts, Lin Feng treaded carefully but confidently. He knew the land—every slope, stream, and burrow. His calloused hands plucked spirit grass and bitterroot with surgical precision. His senses, sharpened through necessity, caught the faintest signs of a predator's presence.
"Be still, be silent, be swift," he whispered, crouching beside a cluster of red-veined lotus flowers. They were rare and highly valued by apothecaries in nearby towns.
A rustle behind him.
He spun, dagger in hand, eyes narrowed.
It was just a fox. Skinny, half-starved like him. He sighed.
Later that evening, after selling his herbs to the village merchant for a pittance and roasting a squirrel over a small fire, Lin Feng lay on the roof of his cottage, staring at the stars.
He did this every night.
Not because it was beautiful—but because he could feel something. A pressure in the sky. A pulse beneath the earth. It was as if the world whispered to him, tempting him to reach beyond his fate.
He dreamed often.
Strange dreams—of ancient temples crumbling in the clouds, of jade-robed immortals battling with swords that split mountains, of black vortexes devouring stars. He didn't understand them, but he felt their meaning gnaw at him: You were not born for this small life.
The next day, a life-altering event occurred.
While exploring a deeper section of the forest, one he normally avoided, Lin Feng stumbled upon a cave hidden behind a thicket of glowing mushrooms. A faint spiritual energy pulsed from within. He hesitated.
Danger.
But danger had never stopped him. Hunger was dangerous. Poverty was dangerous. What could a cave do that life hadn't?
He entered.
The cave descended sharply, winding downward like a coiled serpent. The deeper he went, the colder it became. His breath misted, and his skin prickled with tension. Finally, he emerged into a vast underground chamber.
At its center floated a nine-petaled black lotus suspended over a glowing pool of qi. Nearby stood a stone tablet, cracked but still humming with arcane energy. Etched into it were ancient characters that seared themselves into Lin Feng's mind the moment he saw them:
Heaven-Devouring Manual.
His heart pounded. He stepped forward, drawn by an invisible force.
The moment his hand touched the stone, agony erupted in his meridians. Golden light surged through his body, tearing through blockages, fusing with his soul. Visions poured into his mind—martial forms, qi circulation techniques, forbidden paths to power.
He screamed—and blacked out.
When he awoke, it was night. The chamber was still. The lotus had vanished. The tablet had crumbled to dust. But Lin Feng felt it.
Power.
Like a storm coiled inside him, waiting to be unleashed.
His veins pulsed with warmth. His senses had sharpened. He could feel the flow of spiritual energy in the air, something he had never perceived before.
Returning to the surface, he staggered home in silence, his body aching, his mind reeling. That night, he meditated for the first time using the Heaven-Devouring Manual. As he breathed, the spiritual energy around him surged—not trickling, but flooding into his body.
He broke through to Body Refinement Stage 2 in a single night.
And he wasn't done.
---
The next few days were chaos. Villagers began to whisper. Lin Feng moved faster, struck harder, healed quicker. His body transformed—denser muscles, sharper eyes, a pressure to his presence that made even the village bully hesitate.
Word reached the outer sect recruiter of the Azure Sky Sect, who visited the village twice a year. Lin Feng had never been considered before—too poor, too ordinary.
But this time, when the recruiter asked him to demonstrate his strength, Lin Feng shattered a thick stone slab with his bare fist.
"Accepted," the man said, eyes gleaming.
The next morning, Lin Feng left Crimson Leaf Village for the first time in his life, a bundle of herbs slung over his back and nothing but the clothes on his back.
He didn't look back.
He had no family, no roots. Only dreams.
And the Heaven-Devouring Manual burning in his dantian like a silent promise: