In the blink of an eye, three years had passed.

Three years ago, a disastrous event took place during the Feng Clan’s small competition.

Feng Yusheng was supposed to reach the sky in a single bound after he showcased his talents to scouts and envoys from two prestigious sects.

The elders of the family were overjoyed and kept fawning over their prospects. They’d been cautious not to let any secrets leak to the outside, in spite of the shock and elation they experienced after he went through the “Awakening Rites”.

The young patriarch was their only black grade talent recorded in history even though he was a big boon to the family. Now that another genius of the same level appeared, they knew that the heavens had finally taken a liking for their mediocre family.

At the time, the Grand Elder (Feng Shilong) was so proud and happy that his nose grew several inches longer. His son was the next family hope; as the father, he was showered with thanks and praise for birthing a future expert. His influence in the clan grew and his words held incredible weight during assemblies.

Feng Yusheng's crest of a wave was both blinding and hazardous.

The old patriarch was extremely cautious. Not one word of the news was leaked to low-level members. The day Feng Yusheng became famous was the same they announced the next tournament. Before clansmen, outsiders and citizens could digest the alarming news, sect experts had flown over and taken quarters at the Feng Mansion. They stayed for a week, just in wait for the event.

Some people sighed in envy, while others panicked or wept. Most of them waited for a reaction from the Yong, who surprisingly remained silent. Such a response was uncanny, which caused all sorts of speculations.

“Yong Zitang is probably preparing to surrender. This is a dead end!”

“Yes, the Yong are doomed!”

Those were the words going around the city for a whole week. Even children could understand that the Yong were finished unless they fled the city. The Feng's rising star was soon going to overshadow all of their third generations. Once he became a core disciple, people would fight in order to render meritorious service. With such heavy influence, crushing the Yong would be child's play.

When all the small powers realized this point, they defected from the Yong in groups. They shamelessly came packed with glorious and generous gifts at the Feng’s gates; seeking an audience with the Grand Elder while stroking the servants and guards’ egos.

Who could have thought that those momentaneous and rash actions, motivated by their survival instincts, would lead to such a nightmare? As someone once said, there is no medicine for regret.

Just as the competition reached its climax, the Yong broke inside the complex and crashed the festivities.

Yong Zitang was leading the crazed and bold party with the most ominous and ill-boding smirk; showing no care, fear or respect for anyone besides the sect party of three. People had difficult times understanding his actions. Everyone thought he’d gone mad with despair and snapped. Due to the confusion, everyone ignored the presence of the three young disciples behind him.

Just as they thought he couldn’t act more recklessly, he continued the madness. What he did next left the audience flabbergasted. He asked for a very familiar object and ordered a boy to touch it. The result of this simple gesture caused irreversible consequences and tragedy. The Yong not only avoided a disaster, but they also gained from the ordeal.

Yong Haotian, Mystic Grade Fire Affinity, 7 years old!

The nightmare didn’t end there. The other two disciples imitated the youngster and alternatively touched the crystal.

Yong Moli, Purple Grade Fire Affinity, 11 years old!

Yong Ziqi, Black Grade Light Affinity, 8 years old!

Even the cute little girl was a monster. The place exploded with anger and frenzy. The elders from the two sects did the most improbable thing next. They engaged in a fierce and terrifying fight for the right to carry away the youngest boy. The audience was left stunned, with complicated looks.

Finally, Li Zongren couldn’t keep up against the two. He was defeated and fled like a stray cur as he called for backup from his sect. Once he came back, the Snow Pegasus Sanctuary elders had already taken off with the three disciples. The Scene of Li Zongren and the other four elders fuming red with rage as they ignored Feng Yusheng, was on the minds of the attendees till this day.

When he regained his composure, he clasped his hands in salute and flew off at full speed in a direction.

Feng Feilong didn’t even try to stop him, he knew who he was chasing.

A week later, terrible news circulated.

Yong Haotian and his cousins entered the Snow Pegasus Sect and became disciples. The other entered as inner sect disciples, which wasn’t extremely shocking. Disciples above purple grade could automatically become inner sect disciples, also since they were related, they probably received special treatment. But the most shocking news wasn’t this.

Yong Haotian, Legacy Disciple!

The young boy directly skipped past the core disciple status and became one of the chosen. Chosen ones were called Legacy disciples because they would compete for the position of next sect master. The current Snow Pegasus Sanctuary only had another Legacy disciple who was the sect master daughter. Even, the Unyielding Bison Sect had yet to chose one. Only the sect Master’s own apprentices could become the next leader. That what was it meant to be a legacy disciple. Unless one rebelled and overturned the sect, then no matter how strong he was, he wouldn’t have the approval of the other sect elders to take office.

What was most fearful was that there were other Mystic Grade talents inside the Snow Pegasus Sanctuary. If Yong Haotian was chosen instead, then he probably had other secrets. The words “Bloodline”, “Divine body” and “Zen Specialist” came to mind to some people. The old gods had left countless blessings and treasures among the Heaven and Earth, and they knew of some secrets. However, those three names were so rarely used that people tended to neglect them.

Bloodlines were the most simple to understand but also the most difficult to see. There was one reason, they couldn’t be acquired. People were born with them and possessed all sorts of magical abilities. They ranged from body enhancements to innate skills. Despite how difficult it was for someone to be blessed with a bloodline, their descendants were born with them.

Next was divine bodies. Divine bodies were basically people born with individual skills or bodies suited for certain specific types of cultivation. It wasn’t that different from bloodlines, but it couldn’t be passed down. They cultivated extremely fast and were tyrannically strong. A divine body wouldn’t lose to someone with a bloodline of the same level, but people would rather seek friendship with the latter. A bloodline cultivator was already a future legend, but he could also birth others.

The last one was the most mysterious. Zen Specialists weren’t born with terrific skills or bodies, but they possessed meditating talent. Mediating talent, contrary to the name didn’t measure someone’s level of meditation. It only showed if one was suited to cultivate two or several different classes. Since the apocalyptic times and the rise of humanity, it had been 700,000 years, but only less than a thousand people were recorded as Second level Zen Specialist. According to legends, people could cultivate up to three different classes at the same time. This was represented as Third Level Zen Specialist. Everyone was officially on level one and unless meditating talent was the second grade, it was impossible to cultivate two classes. Last but not least, Second Level Zen Specialists and above could forget the classes they cultivated without restarting from scratch.

In the time it took for incense to burn, another shocking news passed on. Feng Yusheng was refused entry at the gates of the Snow Pegasus Sanctuary and couldn’t pass the exam. From this news, people were able to infer how crafty the old fox Yong Zitang was. He definitely didn’t sell his grandson cheaply.

Everyone waited for the storm, but nothing happened in the next few months. Then, elder Renshu came back and had a long discussion with Feng Feilong. Some spies spotted him with a grim look on his face as his mentor left. He seemed to have aged a few years in the span of days. Yan City high levels came to some conclusion after they heard of it. Anyone smart enough would understand that unless the Feng Clan produced a similar talent the old man couldn’t help much. In fact, them remaining alive was a miracle in itself. Their industries were going to get destroyed and they would stop flourishing soon...

Years went by.

The Yong Clan had grown more despotic. The position of local overlord was also shifted. Yong Zitang punished savagely the traitors from that day personally.

The City Lord didn’t really care, but he stopped by the Yong from time to time. The Yan family couldn’t be shaken, but it didn’t mean they wanted to go hungry. They were a branch of the Yan Family from the Country’s capital. As such, they didn’t receive many resources, and it was why they acted so humbly.

However, those words would probably make Feng Kong and his son cough blood if they heard.

In the Feng Mansion.

A young boy with generous cheeks was sitting cross-legged inside his chambers, eyes closed. He was reciting some incomprehensible mnemonics and looked like a cave expert in meditation. He was clearly familiar with the exercise which he executed with deft. If one looked close enough, they could see that the air around him was a bit blurring, almost fluctuating. He clasped his hand together and exhaled a slow but powerful breath. When the air got out from his mouth, he opened his eye in a hurry and launched his small frame out the door.

It was early in the morning. As soon as he appeared outside, the birds stopped eating worms in the courtyard and squeaked as they fled in panic. He didn’t pay any attention to them; he started punching the void violently and in quick succession as if his life depended on it. When beads of sweat rolled and poured into his eyes and mouth he stopped the exercise. He recalled his calm breath as he executed strangely mesmerizing stances; when he was done, he sat and resumed the earlier breathing activity for ten minutes.

This time, the fluctuations around his body seemed less elusive. The blurry fog was still transparent, almost like heat fluctuations off in the distance, but it also seemed like a concentration of gas that could be lit.

He alternated between the two exercises for an hour when a crackling noise erupted from his bones. His skeleton seethed with pain and tremors for two seconds before it turned back loose.

“Body Tempering Stage Eight Layer!”

The boy exclaimed in joy and punched once again. The sound of cracking bones resounded again with the same virulence. The sound was so loud that he failed to notice the tiny purple sparks of light, as his arm jabbed through the emptiness.

“I guess I was wrong about that manual. Who would believe that scrappy book would make me advance so fast in my cultivation?”

The boy was, in fact, Feng Chanui.

Three years ago, when the Clan was going through humiliation and disturbance, he noticed something falling off Li Zongren’s garbs as he jumped to try and steal away Yong Haotian. In the disarray, his grandmother completely forgot him. He went over the Fat man’s seat and grabbed a dirty, ragged book.

On the book cover, one could read the words :

“Frenetic Bull Breathing Technique.”

The name was coarse and when Chanui read it he chuckled. He was worried he would be found out, but Li Zongren never came back to retrieve or ask for it. Either the manual didn’t hold much value or he was too busy chasing after the treacherous old men. In the end, he totally forgot about it or didn’t know where he lost it. Feng Chanui speculated that the man didn’t have any face to come back.

According to the book description, this cultivation method allowed for someone to possess a tempestuous exhalation. This respiration would in return produce a gaseous and illusory vapor in outbursts. That same miasma gave maniacally suppressive bones through a dangerously, phasic momentum.

There were different stages of the cultivation technique. Initial success, small success, intermediate completion, and great completion. Once one reached the great completion, they would automatically break through the body tempering stage and enter the Martial Dust Realm. Once done with the four stages, one would apparently fuse their elements with the technique in order to train tyrannical bodily cultivation methods. Feng Chanui had reached the intermediate stage and it would take him another half a year before he reached the next.

This was essentially a breathing technique, so he could hide his cultivation. However, he was still seven and didn’t want to make mistakes. The cultivation method didn’t mention whether he could switch between body tempering techniques once he broke through and completed the 1st stage. There were several other cultivation techniques in the clan and he didn’t want to limit his options.

“First, I need to find out what my affinity is.”

Chanui said and flicked his sleeves. He’d seen the experts fight before. With just one flick of their sleeves, they would use water, rocks or Ice. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do the same before he went through the Awakening Rites, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.

His personality had become a bit different after he crossed over. Before, he used to care about other people’s views and tried to look cool for the ladies. Now, he couldn’t care less and acted like a dork. He was cringy at times but he loved how free and unrestrained he was.

Several times, young clansmen had made fun of him for acting like a queer. Every time his older sister had friends over, she would scold him not to show his face. He was popular with male disciples, but girls thought he was weird. It’s not that he didn’t look handsome; he was just too different from other children. He didn’t care for his image and when his playmates experienced and tested the world, he was somewhere not far chanting incantations and mnemonics.

He wasn’t shunned per se, but unless he went to see other people, no one would take initiatives and engage in small talk with him. He was one of those kids that always had to invite friends over but wouldn’t be invited to awesome events and games. There was one odd thing though.

Every time Feng Chanui engaged in lectures or needed a punching bag, there was one guy who acted as voluntary. Chanui wondered which wrong medicine the poor odd boy ate. He was feeling sorry for him so he took him under his wing.

Weirdly enough, this strange boy wouldn’t go down. Before last year, Feng Chanui had only fought draws against him. One time, they even fought for two hours straight without a winner.

When he learned that the brat was his aunt’s child, they became closer. He instantly became more interesting to look at. In fact, he was waiting for the two of them to show up, as they promised to go to the ceremony together.

“I’ll take a quick shower first. I still have time left before breakfast.”