Li Yuanhao had lived in a Daoist temple atop Mount Zhongnan since he was a child.
His grandfather, the head of the temple, was a true master of the ancient ways — an old Daoist with real skill.
Despite his age, the old man could leap across rooftops, dodge attacks with ease, and move with a swiftness and power that far exceeded most young men.
Yuanhao had never once seen his grandfather fall ill. Though he was already over sixty, he looked barely forty.
His grandfather claimed to be one of the rare true martial arts masters of the modern age, having reached the Anjin (Hidden Force) level after decades of cultivation — a realm that only a handful across the country could hope to touch.
As for Yuanhao, orphaned at a young age, he had grown up under his grandfather's guidance, honing his body through rigorous martial arts training. He studied both internal and external styles and was even taught the temple's ancient secret art — Xiantian Gong (Innate Art).
This particular technique had once been reserved only for the temple's leader.
But with changing times, the restriction had relaxed: anyone within the sect was allowed to train it. And as the grandson of the temple master, Yuanhao naturally qualified.
However, Xiantian Gong wasn't even the most powerful cultivation method in the temple. Yuanhao had once seen his grandfather open an old, thick wooden chest filled with dusty Taoist scriptures. Among them were a few legendary manuals — ancient techniques said to grant immortality.
It wasn't that his grandfather didn't want to teach him these so-called immortal cultivation methods, but rather that… they didn't work.
For hundreds of years, no cultivator had succeeded in achieving anything with them. Eventually, they were locked away, more myth than reality.
By contrast, Xiantian Gong was one of the few ancient arts with real, tangible effects — improving the body, nurturing internal energy. In fact, his grandfather credited this very technique for helping him reach the Anjin level.
Of course, in today's world, where technology thrived and spiritual energy was all but depleted, cultivating genuine inner power was nearly impossible.
Even the thought of developing Xiantian True Qi was laughable. At best, the art could slightly improve the body — a small advantage in a world where martial cultivation had long lost its place.
Another key aspect: the younger the practitioner, the stronger the effect.
Before birth, humans exist in a "pre-heaven" (Xiantian) state, pure and untouched.
After birth, the body gradually becomes polluted by post-heaven (Houtian) influences. As one ages, meridians close, making progress increasingly difficult.
Yuanhao had started training in Xiantian Gong at the age of five — an impressively early age.
Even for a gifted child like him, it was only just enough to understand the basics and begin walking the path.
His physical strength far surpassed that of his peers. Of course, part of this came from years of martial training, but the Xiantian Gong played a crucial role.
During his school years, one of the technique's most practical benefits was its mental enhancement — sharpening memory, boosting focus, and even giving him a nearly photographic recall.
Thanks to that, he was able to get into a top university, even while devoting most of his time to martial arts.
But for Yuanhao, academics were never the priority. What he truly cared about was growing stronger.
He chose to major in medicine, hoping to understand the human body from a scientific perspective — and thus unlock further paths to enhance himself.
Yuanhao had rare talent — his grandfather called him a once-in-a-century prodigy.
Whether in jest or not, by the age of 17, Yuanhao had stepped into the Mingjin (Obvious Force) realm — nearly a decade earlier than his grandfather, who had reached it at 26.
Yuanhao had a near-obsessive desire for strength.
He endured solitude and pain, treated cultivation as a passion, even a way of life.
His grandfather often sighed that he was born in the wrong era.
Had he lived before Liu Bowen severed the Dragon Veins, when spiritual energy still flowed freely across the land, perhaps he might have truly broken the boundaries of Heaven and Earth — and ascended to immortality.
In peaceful times, Yuanhao's strength felt like a curse.
He longed for a day when he could finally unleash it, but real trouble was rare. The most he had done was stop a few petty thieves, acting on instinct and a sense of justice.
Then, in his second year of university, Yuanhao stumbled upon the world of underground fighting.
By then, he had been at the Mingjin stage for years, and progress had begun to plateau.
He realized that real combat might be the key to reigniting his growth.
So he signed up, using a fake name, and entered the brutal world of underground martial arts.
The opponents he faced were far more diverse and dangerous than he expected — not just traditional martial artists like himself, but also Sanda champions, Muay Thai fighters, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu experts, boxers, and more.
Early on, his lack of real combat experience cost him.
He was injured many times by unexpected moves and unfamiliar techniques.
But Xiantian Gong once again proved its worth — accelerating his healing, eliminating hidden damage, and allowing him to return to the ring stronger each time.
Through countless battles, Yuanhao's skill and power steadily improved.
By the time he turned 25, he had finally broken through the bottleneck — stepping into the Anjin realm and becoming an undisputed underground champion.
And then, just when everyone thought he would dominate the scene for years, he vanished.
What they didn't know was that the underground king had returned to Mount Zhongnan, becoming a real, certified Daoist priest — living a quiet, ascetic life at the very temple where it had all begun.
His grandfather never wanted Yuanhao to become a full-time priest.
He had always hoped his grandson would live a normal life — start a family, enjoy the world. But Yuanhao had his own path in mind.
Now, aside from helping with daily temple duties, he spent his days immersed in training.
Practicing in summer's scorching heat, enduring winter's bitter cold — the discipline of the ancients.
At the Anjin stage, refinement was no longer about brute force. It was about subtlety — mastering the flow of energy, integrating it into every movement: sitting, walking, even breathing.
It was hard at first.
But over time, Yuanhao's control deepened. He surpassed the early phase of Anjin and entered the mid-stage with ease.
By age 36, he had reached the pinnacle of Anjin — the very peak of mortal martial cultivation.
Yet, for years afterward, he was stuck. No matter how many scriptures he studied, even after memorizing the old immortal manuals word for word, he could not find a way to break through to the next level:
Huajin — the Transformative Force.
And so, once again, the flame within him stirred.
Li Yuanhao decided it was time — time to leave the temple and venture out into the world.
To seek the key that would unlock the next realm. To find… his breakthrough.