Chapter 1: The Hermit of Cloudrest Peak
Cloudrest Peak loomed over the Mortal Realm's misty valleys, a solitary bastion where the air shimmered with faint spiritual qi. Its hillsides were covered with Spiritbloom Herbs., their petals glowing like trapped moonlight, and peach groves that bloomed eternally, their blossoms pulsing with a soft, celestial aura. The earth itself seemed alive, veins of spiritual energy threading through the rock, making the peak a hidden nexus of power perfect for a nap, if you asked Lucian Imperius. He was once the Heavenly Emperor of the Ninefold Realms, but now he's just a carefree hermit in a patched gray robe, he sprawled beneath a peach tree, a Celestial Peach dangling from his fingers. Its flesh sparkled with spiritual essence, sweet enough to make even a god jealous. His gray-streaked hair fanned out on the grass, and a smug grin curved his lips. Retirement, after 900,000 years of ruling immortals, crushing demons, and shattering heavens with a flick of his finger, was pure, unadulterated bliss.
No Celestial Armies pounding at his door with battle plans. No Dao Saints groveling for scraps of his wisdom. No ancient beasts begging to be obliterated. Just peaches, sunshine, and the kind of silence that made you forget the weight of a million years. He'd left the Immortal World with a letter scrawled in starlight ink, blunt as a blade: "I'm retiring. My descendant can take the Jade Throne, or the Prime Minister, if that's less hassle. No infighting, or I'll wipe you all out. And don't come looking for me." Two weeks in, and not a single immortal had dared disturb him. Either they'd finally learned respect, or they still trembled at the name of the Sky-Law Monarch, the One Above All Tribulations. Lucian didn't care which, as long as they stayed away.
His eyelids drooped, the peach's juice dripping onto his robe. The peak's spiritual qi hummed softly, lulling him toward a dreamless sleep. Then, the silence was broken by a crash. A body smashed through his garden, flattening a row of Starbloom Herbs he'd coaxed to bloom with a whisper of qi. Lucian cracked one eye open, his grin souring to a scowl. "Seriously? I move to the edge of nowhere, and people still find me?"
A young man staggered to his knees, blood soaking his tattered mercenary leathers. His sword, chipped and dull, shook in his grip as he gasped for air. Shouts echoed from the valley below, a dozen pursuers, their qi flaring with crude, low-grade killing intent, likely foot soldiers of some backwater sect. The man's dark eyes, sharp despite the pain, locked onto Lucian's. "Help… me," he rasped, his voice raw, tinged with desperation and defiance.
Lucian sat up, brushing peach juice from his scruffy beard. "Help? Kid, I'm just a hermit. My job's napping, not playing hero. Find a healer or bleed somewhere else." The man swayed, then collapsed face-first into the dirt, his sword clattering beside him. Lucian groaned, tossing his peach into the grass. "Great. A corpse in my garden. Just what I needed."
He stood, nudging the man with his sandal. Still breathing, barely. With a sigh, Lucian flicked his wrist, and a golden thread of qi, soft as moonlight and precise as a master's brushstroke, swirled from his palm. It wove into the man's wounds gashes deep enough to fell a mortal, but it stitched flesh and bone together in seconds. The bleeding stopped, color returning to the man's face, though he stayed unconscious. Lucian muttered, "You're welcome, but don't expect me to carry you to bed."
A chime, clear and sharp as a jade bell, rang in his mind. [Disciple Ascension System activated. Disciple Candidate Detected: Ninefold Star Vein. Begin training, or face divine consequences.] Lucian froze, his jaw dropping. A system? Now? After two weeks of glorious, uninterrupted peace? "No way," he said, glaring at the sky like it had personally betrayed him. "I'm retired. Take your divine nonsense and shove it somewhere celestial."
The chime rang again, louder, with a smug edge that made Lucian's eye twitch. [Begin training, or face divine consequences.] He crossed his arms, leaning against the peach tree. "What consequences? More chimes? I've slept through heavenly wars, you glorified doorbell." The system stayed silent, but its presence lingered, a faint pressure in his soul, like a guest who wouldn't leave. Lucian sighed, rubbing his temples. He'd heard of systems, ancient artifacts or divine wills that guided cultivators but he'd never needed one. He was the pinnacle, the one who'd shattered the Abyssal Heavens with a finger. Why now?
The man stirred, groaning, "Drake… Ashbourne…" Lucian's curiosity flickered. Drake Ashbourne, huh? Probably some exiled nobody with a grudge. But that Ninefold Star Vein, a rare spiritual trait, its qi power tied to the stars, maybe even the Divine World nagged at him. The Divine World, a realm so sealed even Lucian, who'd walked among gods, had never glimpsed its truths. A spark of interest, that old enemy, flared in his chest, and he cursed himself for it.
"Fine," he growled, kicking a pebble into the grass. "One disciple, just to shut you up. But I'm not babysitting, and I'm definitely not caring." He hauled Drake to a nearby cave, its walls etched with faint spiritual runes from some long-forgotten cultivator. Propping him against the stone, Lucian dusted his hands. The system chimed, almost cheerful, and he shot it a mental glare. "Don't get cocky, you glorified bell."
By dusk, Drake woke, gripping his sword like it was his only anchor. His dark eyes, now clearer, narrowed at Lucian's shabby robe. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rough but edged with pride. "Why'd you save me?"
"Is this how you talk to your savior, huh?" Lucian said, tossing Drake a low-tier pill. "Saved you because you trashed my garden. You owe me labor. Those mercenaries still after you?"
Drake caught the pill, his jaw clenching. "Iron Crane Sect. A job went south." His tone was clipped, hiding layers of pain exile from the Azure Flame Pavilion, a framed theft of the Heavenly Ember Pearl, a Ninefold Binding Curse sealing his cultivation. Lucian saw it in his tense shoulders, the way his fingers tightened on the sword's hilt, but didn't press. He'd known too many broken prodigies in his time.
"You're really mess," Lucian said, leaning against the cave wall. "But since you're here, try this." He grabbed a stick, sketching a sword stance in the dirt clean lines, pure balance, a deceptively simple form he'd once taught a Dao Saint. "Swing like this. Keep your qi balanced. Don't overthink it."
Drake snorted, his skepticism sharp as his blade. "A hermit teaching swordplay? What's next, brewing elixirs in your teapot?" He stood, copying the stance, his movements jerky from the curse locking his qi. His breath hitched, frustration flashing in his eyes as his sealed cultivation refused to stir. Lucian watched, silent, sensing the faint pulse of the Ninefold Star Vein beneath the curse a spark waiting to ignite.
Then, it happened. A faint silver glow sparked along Drake's blade, and the air hummed with spiritual energy. Starlight pulsed from the sword, bathing the cave in a celestial shimmer that spilled onto the peak outside. The Spiritbloom Herbs swayed, as if bowing to a new king, and the peach trees' blossoms flared brighter. Drake froze, his mouth half-open, the sword trembling in his grip.
Lucian's eyebrows shot up, his own peach forgotten. "Well, that's… inconveniently impressive." The system chimed smugly: "Disciple Breakthrough: Ninefold Star Vein activated. Stellar Sword Intent formed. Progress: 1%." Drake stared at his sword, his voice a whisper. "What in the heavens…?"
Lucian shrugged, masking a grin. "Beginner's luck. Now, go fix my garden before you glow up the whole valley." Drake stumbled out, still dazed, the starlight trailing him like a comet's tail. From Stonehaven City's distant watchtowers, eyes caught the glow, whispers of a "hidden sage" already spreading. Lucian sighed, slumping against the cave wall. He glanced at the sky, muttering, "You happy now, you pushy system? This kid's gonna ruin my nap schedule."
A faint chime answered, almost teasing, and Lucian groaned. Retirement, it seemed, was overrated.