The Rising Sun Sect of the Celestial Dragon Empire was located on the tallest mountain in the region, the Radiant Sun Peak. Towering high above the clouds, its summit was often wrapped in golden mist at dawn and bathed in a warm crimson glow by dusk. It was said that the peak touched the edge of the heavens, kissed by the light of the rising sun itself.
Atop this majestic mountain stood the Sect Master's manor, a grand and serene estate. Its roofs were tiled with greenish jade, its white marble pillars carved with ancient runes. Surrounding it were centuries-old pine trees and golden-leafed maples, their branches gently swaying in the morning wind.
A young man stepped onto the manor's wide stone terrace, a tranquil place filled with rare blooming flowers and strange, exotic trees from distant lands. The sunlight poured over the garden, painting everything in a soft golden hue. Birds chirped cheerfully from the treetops, while squirrels leapt between branches. Nearby, a small rocky pond gently bubbled, the soft murmur of flowing water adding to the peaceful atmosphere.
"Sect Master, you called for me?"
The young man bowed deeply. His upper body lowered in respect, hands clasped in the traditional salute. His long black hair, smooth and slightly tousled by the morning breeze, swayed gently as he bowed. He wore a white cultivator's robe embroidered with a brilliant sun on the back—the proud sigil of the Rising Sun Sect. At his hip hung a slender longsword in a white jade scabbard, and beside it, a delicate jade talisman shimmered, reflecting the sunlight.
The Sect Master, Yan Hao Yang, stood near a stone lantern overlooking the terrace. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a man of commanding presence. His golden hair flared outward like a lion's mane, wild and regal. Beneath his heavy robe, his physique was powerful, with his clothes barely hiding the sheer muscle of his frame. As he turned to face the young man, his sharp golden eyes narrowed slightly, and a faint grin curled the corner of his lips.
"Langtian… Is it true? Have you really succeeded in forming a Golden Spirit Core?"
The Sect Master's voice rumbled through the air like distant thunder. Deep, rough, and commanding—each word carried a weight that pressed against the soul.
Even now, after thirteen years under his guidance, Bai Langtian still felt the pressure whenever he stood before him. It wasn't fear exactly, but something deeper. A force that shook him down to the marrow, as if every cell in his body recognized the overwhelming power in this man's voice.
After all, Yan Hao Yang had already reached the pinnacle of the True Spirit Realm. Wisps of Divine Essence had begun to take shape within his soul. His aura alone was enough to make even seasoned cultivators tremble. Standing before him felt like standing before a god in mortal form.
Langtian drew in a steady breath and straightened his back.
"Yes," he said clearly, not hiding the pride in his voice. "I've successfully formed the Golden Core."
A beat of silence.
Then—
"Good! Very good!" Hao Yang's golden eyes lit up.
In one powerful motion, he strode forward and grasped Langtian by the shoulders, lifting him up from his respectful bow.
"That's my disciple!" he said with a hearty laugh, his voice full of warmth and pride.
Langtian smiled faintly. "It's all thanks to the Solar Heart Pill you gave me. Without it, I don't think I could've succeeded."
"Ha! Nonsense!" Hao Yang chuckled, his laughter booming across the mountain air. "Still underestimating yourself, I see."
He released Langtian with a firm pat on the shoulder. Then, his expression shifted.
Turning slowly, Hao Yang walked to the edge of the terrace, where the mountain dropped away into the clouds. The sky was beginning to brighten; the sun hovered low on the horizon, casting golden rays across the sea of distant peaks.
He gazed into the light for a long moment before speaking again.
"Langtian… how many years has it been since you first came to Radiant Sun Peak?"
Langtian stepped beside him, his voice low. "Thirteen years."
"Ah…" Hao Yang sighed. "So it's been thirteen years already…"
Langtian nodded, his eyes reflecting the warm glow of dawn.
"Yes. I still remember it clearly. It was Senior Sister Yue Ling who saved me that day… and brought me here."
***
Thirteen years ago.
At the foot of Radiant Sun Mountain, there once lay a quiet, peaceful village. Life there was simple but full of warmth. Each morning, smoke curled lazily from thatched rooftops as villagers prepared breakfast over open hearths. Farmers worked in the rice fields, singing folk tunes under their breath, while women washed clothes by the stream, chatting softly as the water flowed around their hands.
Meanwhile, their children laughed and chased each other through winding dirt paths, their bare feet kicking up dust. Some played games like cuju, touhu, or tried to catch dragonflies and fish in the shallow ponds. The village elders gathered around the stone well at the center of town, sharing gossip and stories beneath the old banyan tree, sipping tea and chuckling at long-forgotten memories.
Langtian was only ten years old then. He spent most days running wild with his two older brothers, racing through the fields and sneaking off to steal fruits from their neighbors' orchards. There were countless times they had been caught though, but still always laughed about it afterward.
Life was ordinary, but it was good.
However…
Everything changed in a single, terrible night.
Without warning, the peace was shattered. A ruthless band of marauders descended from the foothills like a wave of shadow.
They came under cover of darkness, riding black horses that pounded the earth like thunder. Their armor clanked, and their war cries tore through the still night air like screams from hell. Flames lit up the village as torches were thrown onto rooftops. Doors were kicked down, and blades flashed like lightning in the lamplight.
Those bastard, they robbed.
They killed.
They set everything ablaze.
Langtian's world erupted into chaos and screams.
He saw with his own eyes, his father, spear in hand, falling beneath a rain of arrows before he could even shout a warning. And right after that, his mother, her face streaked with soot and tears, was dragged away into the night, begging for mercy that never came.
By the time the bandits finished, not a single home remained untouched. The huts were burned to blackened husks. The fields were trampled. The people were gone, either cut down where they stood, or dragged away into the darkness.
Langtian lay crumpled near the shattered remains of his home, surrounded by corpses of his father and brothers. His back had been torn open by a jagged blade, the wound stretching from shoulder to waist. Every breath sent a sharp, burning pain through his chest. Blood seeped from him, warm and sticky against the cold stone floor.
He should have died there, forgotten, broken, just another body among many.
But something kept him tethered to life.
'Live...
'Langtian, you have to live!
'So you could avenge them.
'So you could bring justice to those who had destroyed everything you loved!'
And just like that, the hours crawled by as he drifted in and out of consciousness. The night stretched long, and the moon drifted overhead, indifferent and pale. All around him, only silence remained.
And then, just as the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Langtian stirred again.
The morning sun touched his bloodied face.
But beside him, someone knelt.
A stranger.
She wore flowing white robes trimmed in gold, the fabric still unstained by the soot around her. Her long hair was tied in a high tail, and a single jade hairpin glinted in the sunlight. Her presence was calm, almost radiant.
There was something otherworldly about her.
It was as if the light itself had descended from the sky and taken human form.
With quiet hands, she tore a strip of cloth from her sleeve and gently wiped the blood from his face. Then she uncorked a small vial and poured a healing elixir into the wound along his back.
Her perfume was sweet, like the scent of jasmine blooming at dawn.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Langtian blinked up at her. Her eyes, so clear and beautiful, held no pity, only quiet recognition of the fierce spirit that still burned within him.
And when she gently lifted him to his feet, the world swayed, but her grip was steady. Without hesitation, she carried him across the smoking ruins of the village and, without a single word, began the long ascent toward Radiant Sun Peak.
In the days that followed, under her patient care, Langtian's wounds began to heal. He learned to sit, then to stand, and eventually to walk again. Weeks passed, and one morning, he felt it, a warmth stirring within his chest. For the first time, he tasted the raw power of Qi flowing through his veins.
Soon after, he was formally accepted as a disciple of the Rising Sun Sect.
And so, as he trained, night after night, the memories of that dreadful evening never left him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the flames, heard the screams, smelled the charred earth. The pain was burned into his bones.
And each time, he vowed again:
He would avenge his grandparents, his parents, his brothers.
He would not let that night be forgotten.
He swore that once he formed his Spirit Core, he would descend this mountain and bring justice to the monsters who had stolen everything from him.
And now… the time had finally come.
_________________
"That reminds me… There's still no word about Senior Sister Shangguan?" Langtian asked.
The Sect Master let out a long, weary sigh and shook his head slowly.
That simple gesture hit Langtian harder than any answer could. A quiet heaviness settled in his chest, dull and cold.
Shangguan Yue Ling.
She wasn't just the person who had saved him thirteen years ago. To Langtian, she was everything: his savior, his role model, the one who had first shown him what it meant to be strong. But within the Rising Sun Sect, she was even more than that.
She was a prodigy, a true genius that would only appear once in a thousand years.
She was someone respected by every disciple, honored by the elders, and personally taught by the Sect Master himself.
At only eighteen years old, she had already formed her Core, and not just any core, but a Golden Spirit Core, the highest and rarest grade possible.
In the world of cultivation, Core Formation was a major milestone—a moment that defined the future of any cultivator. After years of absorbing and refining qi, one would finally condense all their spiritual energy into a single core within the dantian.
The color of that core reflected its quality, and by extension, the cultivator's potential. Cores were generally ranked as follows:
Gray Core – Mortal Core: The lowest quality. Impure, unstable, and prone to stagnation. Cultivators with this core often reached a limit early.
Green Core: A step above. Stable and serviceable for long-term growth, but without extraordinary potential. Progress would be slow and steady.
Blue Core: Pure and efficient. Able to absorb qi quickly and evenly, often seen among elite sect disciples.
Purple Core: Rare, and often linked to unusual fate. These cultivators advanced quickly and were naturally gifted in comprehension and spiritual insight.
Golden Core: The peak of natural talent. Incredibly pure, flawless in structure. Those who formed it were destined for greatness. They were beings who could one day challenge heaven itself.
To form a Blue Core was already impressive, something that only one in a hundred cultivators might achieve. A Purple Core was rare enough that entire sects might only see one in a generation.
But a Golden Core?
That was near-mythical.
A one-in-a-million genius.
When Shangguan Yue Ling awakened her Golden Spiritual Core, the entire Rising Sun Sect celebrated. She was hailed as a once-in-a-thousand-years prodigy, blessed by both heaven and earth, destined to walk a path few could ever dream of.
But her talent had shown even long before that.
Even before forming her core, she had already begun to stand apart. While most disciples focused on mastering the techniques passed down to them, Yue Ling observed the world with sharp eyes and a thoughtful mind. By studying how eagles soared and dove through the mountain winds, how they circled high above the clouds before striking with deadly speed, she created a martial technique all her own: The Eighteen Sky-Hunting Eagle Strikes.
Despite her youth, the technique's form and strength was so powerful it rivaled that of a Peak Profound Rank martial art technique. It had became so well-regarded that a small group of disciples began practicing it as well, Langtian included. He still remembered how awestruck he had felt the first time he saw her demonstrate it.
But then, ten years ago, everything changed.
Only a few weeks after successfully forming her Golden Core, Yue Ling vanished without a trace. No farewell, no message to her friend.
She simply disappeared.
Some believed she had gone into seclusion to pursue a higher path of cultivation, beyond the reach of even the sect. Others feared she had fallen on a dangerous mission, that her body had been lost to the wilderness.
But even so, Even after all these years, the Rising Sun Sect never gave up.
From time to time, envoys were sent out, searching far and wide for any sign of Shangguan Yue Ling. They scoured ancient forests, deep valleys, ruined temples, and faraway cities. But no clue ever surfaced.
And in the end, all remained till now was just a sorrowful tale, a quiet tragedy that weighed heavily on the Sect Master's heart. Yue Ling had been one of his most beloved disciples, a girl he had personally raised and guided since her childhood, trained personally, and believed would one day carry the sect's future.
Since her disappearance, no one had seen the Sect Master truly smile.
But now…
As Langtian stood before him, with a Golden Core shining within his dantian, something changed.
Just for a moment, a flicker of light returned to Hao Yang's eyes. A quiet spark, as if an old flame, long thought extinguished, had suddenly begun to glow again.
Perhaps… the heavens were finally offering compensation.
For what had been taken.
From him.
From the Rising Sun Sect.
"Langtian," Hao Yang said, lifting his hand slowly, "come here. I will bestow upon you a new gift."
Langtian's eyes widened.
A personal gift from the Sect Master?
It was an honor most disciples could only dream of.
He straightened his posture, heart pounding, voice steady despite the excitement rushing through his veins.
"Yes, Sect Master!" he said, stepping forward without hesitation.
Hao Yang stood at the edge of the cliff, his long cloak rippling in the mountain wind. His golden hair sparkled in the light.
As Langtian approached, the Sect Master extended a hand, not to give him anything, but to point outward, toward the rising sun.
"Look to the horizon," Hao Yang said softly. "Tell me… what do you think of this poem?"
Langtian turned his gaze to the distance.
The golden sun hovered just above the mountains, its morning light bathing the world in warmth and quiet wonder. In his dark eyes, the reflection of the sun flickered, like a sacred flame, burning bright.
"rì chū cāng qióng wàn lǐ hóng
(The sun rises in the vast heavens, ten thousand miles dyed red.)
jīn guāng wàn zhàng zhào jiāng fēng
(Golden light stretches for miles, shining over river and wind.)
bàn kōng yàn dòng shāo yín wù
(In midair flames dance, burning silver mist.)
wàn yuè xiá pī yìng yù fēng
(Ten thousand peaks are draped in glow, reflecting jade-like summits.)
qún wù dī tóu chéng shèng lì
(All things bow low to receive sacred might.)
bǎi líng jīng jù shī zhēn kōng
(Even spirits tremble, losing clarity of mind.)
shuí néng zhí shì tiān zhōng dào
(Who dares gaze straight into the Way within the heavens?)
tā rì fēi lóng huà dà xióng
(That one shall, in time, soar as a dragon and become mighty.)"
"Sect Master…" Langtian's eyes widened as the poem echoed in his mind. Every word struck something deep inside him, like it was telling the story of his life, and what was still to come.
Like the sun rising after a long night, he had survived the darkness: the destruction of his village, years of pain and struggle, and the lonely path of cultivation.
And now, he had finally reached true strength.
Today, he would rise.
The road ahead was still long and full of danger, but with a strong will and a heart burning like the sun, he was ready to face the heavens.
He would keep climbing, rising, until he became a dragon.
With determination in his chest and clarity in his mind, Langtian turned to Hao Yang and shared what he believed the poem meant.
The Sect Master laughed, loud and clear, seemingly pleased.
"Very good! Very good!" he said, his voice echoing against the cliff walls. Then his tone shifted. "You got most of it right… but there's one thing you misunderstood."
Langtian's expression changed. "Please enlighten me, Sect Master."
Hao Yang stepped closer, his golden eyes gleaming.
"The one who will rise as the new sun, who will become the dragon…
"…is not you. Don't be arrogant."
Langtian froze. "Ah—I'm sorry! I've been too arrogant!"
He quickly bowed low.
Hao Yang's voice was cold now.
"Then tell me, who do you think the poem speaks of?"
Langtian straightened slowly, brows furrowed in thought.
'Could it be referring to someone else? Someone who once stood at the pinnacle of the world?'
Names of legendary cultivators and ancient Immortal Gods drifted through his mind, heroes whose light once shone across the heavens.
But then—
"It's me," Hao Yang said.
His voice was calm, but carried a quiet menace, like thunder hiding beneath still clouds.
"I'm the only sun here."
Langtian's heart skipped a beat.
"What…?" he gasped, stunned.
But before he could move—
Before he could even begin to understand—
Agony.
A sharp, searing pain exploded in his abdomen, deep in his dantian.
His breath caught in his throat, his body froze.
He looked down, and what he saw turned his blood to ice.
His core…
His Golden Core, so radiant, so full of promise, was no longer inside him!
But instead, it was now cradled in Hao Yang's hand.
Still glowing, still warm.
Ripped from his body.
By the Sect Master himself.
"S-Sect Master…" Langtian choked out, stumbling back. "Why…?"
His knees gave out. He collapsed, pain spreading like wildfire through his veins.
But Hao Yang didn't answer.
He only smiled.
A twisted, monstrous smile, so different from the warm mentor Langtian had once trusted. It was the grin of someone who had never cared. Not really.
In his palm, Langtian's core pulsed softly, like a dying star.
And then, with a single, brutal motion—
He shoved Langtian off the cliff.
***
The wind howled past his ears. The sky spun.
The world blurred into streaks of blue and red.
And in the final moment, as he fell through the open air, the sun vanished from Langtian's eyes.