The Awakening Hall of the Norman Clan was silent for a single breath before mockery exploded like thunder.

"Failed!"

The elder conducting the ceremony slammed his staff against the ground, his wrinkled face filled with disappointment and disgust.

"Next!"

The word echoed throughout the massive hall like a death sentence.

Armstrong stood motionless in the center of the Bloodline Formation, his fists clenched so tightly that blood dripped from his palms. Scarlet runes carved into the black stone beneath him slowly dimmed before disappearing completely.

No reaction.

No resonance.

No bloodline.

For the third time in sixteen years, the heavens had rejected him.

Around him stood hundreds of youths of the Norman Clan, their expressions filled with ridicule, pity, or indifference. Above them hung enormous banners embroidered with the symbol of the clan, a crimson serpent wreathed in flames.

The Flame Serpent Bloodline.

The pride of the Norman Clan.

A bloodline descended from an ancient primordial beast capable of melting mountains and scorching rivers into steam. Even a diluted fragment of its power was enough to make the Norman Clan one of the strongest families in Sunset City.

Yet Armstrong had failed to awaken even the faintest trace of it.

A useless son.

A stain on the clan.

"Hahaha!"

Laughter rang out from the crowd.

A handsome young man stepped forward arrogantly, his luxurious crimson robe fluttering behind him. Flames danced faintly around his body, causing nearby youths to look at him with admiration and envy.

Dave Norman.

The greatest genius of the younger generation.

Earlier that same day, he had awakened an eighty percent purity Flame Serpent Bloodline, shocking the entire clan.

"A bastard without a father will always be trash," Dave sneered. "Now that you've failed all three awakenings, get out before I personally throw you out."

The surrounding youths burst into laughter.

"Trash!"

"No bloodline!"

"He disgraced the Norman Clan!"

Armstrong lowered his head silently.

He had grown up hearing these words.

Ever since he was born, the clan despised him. No one knew who his father was. His mother refused to speak of him no matter how much she was pressured and humiliated.

Because of that, Armstrong and his mother had lived at the lowest level of the clan for sixteen years.

Servants mocked them.

Elders ignored them.

Children bullied him.

And now...

He was being expelled.

At that moment, a clear voice suddenly echoed throughout the hall.

"That's enough all of you!"

The crowd instantly quieted.

A beautiful young maiden stepped forward gracefully. Her long silver-black hair flowed like silk while her bright eyes shone with determination.

She was Leila.

The granddaughter of the Grand Elder.

The pride of the Norman Clan.

The girl countless geniuses dreamed of marrying.

Yet at this moment, she stood beside the clan's greatest disgrace without hesitation.

"Armstrong, don't listen to them," she said softly, her voice filled with warmth. "Failing to awaken a bloodline does not mean your life is over. There are powerful cultivators in this world who rose through sheer determination alone and not their bloodline."

Her beautiful eyes met his.

"I believe in you."

The mocking crowd gradually quieted.

Some looked shocked.

Others looked jealous.

Dave's face darkened instantly.

Leila continued gently, "I don't have the authority to stop the elders from expelling you... but when I become stronger, I promise I'll find you and bring you back."

For the first time that day, Armstrong's expression changed.

Warmth filled his chest.

In this cold clan, only two people had ever truly cared for him. His mother and Leila. The young man looked at her quietly before smiling faintly.

"Don't worry, Leila," he said calmly. "I won't break so easily."

Despite the humiliation surrounding him, his voice remained steady.

"I may not have awakened a bloodline, but I'll still become strong. I'll carve my own path in this world."

His dark eyes suddenly sharpened.

"One day, I'll make the Norman Clan regret today." He vowed

The hall fell silent.

Even the elders frowned.

Such confidence from a bloodline-less trash?

Ridiculous.

Yet for some reason, the calm determination in Armstrong's eyes caused unease to stir in their hearts.

Dave suddenly laughed coldly.

"Worthless words."

Flames erupted faintly around his arm as he stepped closer.

"Leila, can't you see reality? This trash has no future." He proudly raised his chin. "I awakened a High-Tier Flame Serpent Bloodline with eighty percent purity. My talent is second only to your grandfather in the history of the clan."

His gaze toward Armstrong became filled with contempt.

"I'm the one worthy of standing beside you."

Leila's expression turned cold.

But before she could speak, Armstrong gently stopped her.

"He's right," Armstrong said quietly.

The crowd blinked in surprise.

Even Dave frowned.

Armstrong smiled bitterly.

"Right now... I'm not worthy of you."

Leila's eyes trembled slightly.

"But it won't remain that way forever."

His fists slowly tightened.

"These insults..." he said softly, "will become the fuel that pushes me forward and become someone worthy of you."

For the first time, the mockery around him no longer mattered.

Because deep inside his chest, beneath years of humiliation and pain, something had awakened.

Not power.

Not bloodline.

But ambition.

An ambition fierce enough to challenge heaven itself.

Leila stared at him silently before revealing a gentle smile capable of melting ice.

"I'll wait for that day."

Dave's expression twisted ugly.

The surrounding youths looked furious with jealousy.

How could this trash receive such affection from the goddess of the clan?

Armstrong ignored them all.

Instead, his gaze turned toward the distant mountains visible outside the Awakening Hall.

Beyond those mountains lay the true cultivation world.

A world where ancient beasts devoured kingdoms.

A world where gods and demons battled across the heavens.

A world where strength ruled above all else.

Dangerous.

Cruel.

Merciless.

Yet it was also a world where miracles could happen.

Armstrong suddenly turned toward Leila one last time.

"I have to go."

A trace of sadness appeared in her eyes.

He forced out a smile.

"I don't have the courage to see my mother right now."

Those words pierced his own heart.

His mother had suffered endlessly for him. Yet after failing all three awakenings, he couldn't bear facing her disappointment.

"Tell her..." his voice became hoarse, "...tell her I love her."

Leila nodded silently.

"And tell her," Armstrong continued, his eyes burning with determination, "that I'll never let her regret giving birth to me."

The air around him seemed to grow heavier.

"One day, I'll become powerful enough to find my father."

The moment those words left his mouth, several elders narrowed their eyes sharply.

Find his father?

Only a few people in the clan knew the truth. Years ago, Armstrong's mother had appeared carrying a mysterious infant drenched in blood beneath a crimson moon. The child possessed a terrifying aura that even the former Patriarch feared.

But by dawn, that aura had vanished completely.

As if sealed.

Or sleeping.

The Grand Elder once secretly said:

"This child either carries a heaven-defying secret... or a calamity capable of destroying worlds."

No one believed him.

After all, Armstrong had never shown any talent.

But at this moment...

As the young man turned and walked toward the massive gates of the Norman Clan alone, an ancient black mark hidden beneath the skin over his heart suddenly flickered faintly.

For the briefest instant, a terrifying primordial aura flashed across existence.

Far away, deep within forbidden ruins, countless ancient beasts suddenly opened their eyes.

In the depths of an endless abyss, sleeping demons trembled.

Above the nine heavens, an old god seated upon a throne abruptly stood up in shock.

And within a forgotten realm buried outside space itself...

A pair of colossal crimson eyes slowly opened.

The universe trembled.

The moment Armstrong stepped beyond the borders of the Norman Clan, he understood one truth clearly.

The world was far larger than hatred.

Far larger than Sunset City.

Far larger than the tiny cage he had spent sixteen years trapped inside.

Under the endless sky, his figure looked insignificant as he walked along the dusty roads leading toward the heart of the Solartin Empire. Yet the fire burning inside him grew stronger with every step.

The cultivation world was cruel.

But it was also limitless.

The Solartin Empire itself was merely one of countless weak Third-Tier powers in the Southern Region of the Boundless Domain.

Above the Solartin Empire stood the Crimson Dynasty, the supreme ruler of the south. An ancient colossus whose territory stretched across millions of miles.

Its armies could erase kingdoms overnight.

Its experts could split mountains with a single strike.

And even the mighty Crimson Dynasty was only one of five hegemonic powers ruling the Boundless Domain.

The Northern Region.

The Eastern Region.

The Western Region.

The Central Region.

Each possessed a supreme force equal to the Crimson Dynasty.

Compared to such monstrous powers, Sunset City was nothing more than a grain of sand at the edge of an endless desert.

Yet instead of feeling fear, Armstrong felt excitement.

Because for the first time in his life…

The horizon before him was infinite.

The journey to Solartin City took two weeks on foot.

Two weeks beneath scorching suns and freezing nights.

Two weeks of sleeping under trees, hunting rabbits, and surviving on wild fruits and river water.

Yet Armstrong endured it all calmly.

His body was abnormal.

Ever since childhood, he had known it.

Even without awakening a bloodline, his physique surpassed ordinary mortals by terrifying margins.

His vision could spot prey from hundreds of meters away.

His hearing captured subtle movements hidden deep within forests.

His reflexes were so sharp that he could instinctively dodge thrown stones before consciously reacting.

And his strength…

At age twelve, he accidentally shattered a stone training pillar with one punch.

At fourteen, he fought three grown men alone after they insulted his mother.

At sixteen, despite lacking cultivation, his physical power already rivaled low-level Body Tempering cultivators.

It was one of the reasons the Norman Clan feared and hated him.

A bloodline-less monster.

An anomaly.

As Armstrong walked through forests and mountain roads, he trained constantly.

Punching trees until his knuckles bled.

Running through rivers with massive stones strapped to his back.

Practicing movement techniques he had secretly observed from clan guards.

Each day, his body grew stronger.

And every night, the strange black mark over his heart pulsed faintly beneath his skin.

Though Armstrong remained unaware of it.

Finally, after fourteen exhausting days, Solartin City appeared on the horizon.

Armstrong stopped walking.

His eyes widened slightly.

The city walls towered like mountains, stretching endlessly beneath the clouds. Massive crimson banners fluttered above gigantic gates forged from black iron.

Countless people moved in and out like rivers of ants.

Cultivators rode enormous spirit beasts through the skies.

Merchants dragged caravans filled with exotic treasures.

Armored soldiers radiated powerful auras that far surpassed anyone Armstrong had ever seen.

The capital of the Solartin Empire.

The true center of power.

Compared to Sunset City, it felt like a completely different world.

Armstrong unconsciously clenched his fists.

One day…

He would stand at the peak of a place even greater than this.

As he approached the gates, two guards suddenly crossed their spears before him.

“Halt.”

Armstrong stopped calmly.

One of the guards glanced at his simple clothes and dusty appearance before speaking indifferently.

“Pay an entry fee of twenty silver coins before you enter

.”

Armstrong’s heart tightened slightly.

Twenty silver coins.

That was everything he had saved over the years.

Every coin earned through dangerous labor and humiliation inside the Norman Clan.

Without hesitation, he took out the small pouch hanging from his waist and handed it over.

The guard counted the coins before stepping aside lazily.

“You may enter boy.” The guard said

Armstrong walked through the gates slowly.

The instant he entered Solartin City, overwhelming noise crashed into him like a tidal wave.

Shouts.

Laughter.

The sounds of merchants advertising treasures.

The roar of spirit beasts.

The clash of weapons from distant arenas.

The city was alive.

Massive buildings stretched endlessly across crowded streets. Towers pierced the heavens while flying ships occasionally crossed the skies overhead.

Armstrong felt both small and exhilarated.

This was the cultivation world.

A world where the strong ruled.

A world where fate could be rewritten.

"Excuse me sir, please where is the Solartin Empire Mercenary Guild?"

After asking around for directions several times, Armstrong finally arrived before an enormous black building shaped like a giant beast skull.

A massive crimson blade symbol was carved above its gates.

The Solartin Empire Mercenary Guild.

One of the most influential organizations in the entire empire.

Mercenaries hunted beasts, escorted caravans, explored ancient ruins, and completed dangerous missions for money and resources.

For someone with no clan and no backing, it was the best place to survive.

Armstrong stared at the building with determination.

This would be the beginning of his rise.

Just as he stepped forward, a large hand suddenly slammed against the wall beside his head.

BOOM!

The stone cracked instantly.

Armstrong’s eyes narrowed.

Several burly men blocked the entrance.

Their bodies were covered in scars and beast-hide armor. Massive weapons hung from their backs while the smell of alcohol and blood lingered around them.

Mercenaries.

The man in front grinned viciously, revealing yellow teeth.

“Well, well…”

His sharp eyes swept over Armstrong mockingly.

“Looks like a country bumpkin wandered into the capital.” He said

The surrounding mercenaries laughed loudly.

Another man spat on the ground.

“Kid, breathing the air around the Great Solartin Mercenary Guild isn’t free.”

“Pay fifty silver coins.”

A third mercenary smirked arrogantly.

“And another fifty silver coins for stepping onto this holy land.”

The group burst into laughter again.

Clearly, they believed they had found an easy target to rob.

Armstrong remained silent for several seconds. His sharp senses could feel the hostility in their bodies.

These men were dangerous.

Unlike the spoiled youths of the Norman Clan, these were people who had truly killed before.

Yet strangely…

Armstrong felt no fear.

Instead, his blood seemed to grow hotter.

The mercenary leader stepped closer, his grin widening.

“Hurry up, brat. Don’t waste our...”

“Fuck off.”

The laughter stopped instantly.

The surrounding street became strangely quiet.

Even nearby pedestrians slowed down in shock.

The mercenaries stared at Armstrong as if they had misheard him. The leader’s expression slowly darkened.

“What did you say?”

Armstrong calmly raised his eyes.

His gaze was cold and steady.

“I said,” he repeated, “fuck off.”

Boom.

A terrifying pressure erupted from the mercenary leader.

“You little bastard!”

His hand shot toward Armstrong’s throat like a claw.

Fast.

Very fast.

Far faster than ordinary people could react. But Armstrong moved first.

His body twisted instinctively.

SWISH!

The claw barely brushed past his neck.

The mercenary leader’s eyes widened slightly.

Armstrong’s fist exploded forward immediately.

BANG!

The punch struck the man’s stomach heavily.

The mercenary leader staggered backward three steps, his expression filled with disbelief.

The surrounding mercenaries froze.

How could an ordinary mortal force back a cultivator?

Armstrong himself looked surprised.

His fist hurt slightly, as though he had punched iron.

But deep inside his body…

Something ancient stirred faintly.

The black mark over his heart pulsed once.

Far away, hidden beneath endless darkness, colossal crimson eyes opened slightly once more.

And within Armstrong’s veins, a strand of invisible primordial aura silently awakened.

The entire entrance of the Mercenary Guild had fallen silent.

The barbarian mercenary leader lay sprawled on the stone ground, clutching his stomach while blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. His earlier arrogance had completely vanished, replaced by fear and disbelief.

Around him, his companions stared at Armstrong as though they were looking at a monster.

"How?"

"How could a mere mortal defeat a Late Stage Mortal Tempering cultivator with a single punch?"

Even among Body Cultivators, crossing realms through raw physical strength was extremely difficult.

The surrounding crowd erupted into whispers.

“That kid has no qi fluctuations…”

“He’s really a mortal?”

“No… impossible…”

Armstrong ignored the noise calmly.

Instead, his eyes fell on the leather pouch hanging from the barbarian leader’s waist.

Without hesitation, he bent down and grabbed it.

The barbarian leader twitched slightly but didn’t dare resist.

After what had just happened, he no longer viewed Armstrong as an ordinary youth.

He viewed him as danger.

Armstrong opened the pouch casually.

The moment he saw the contents, even he was surprised.

Five gold coins.

And hundreds of silver coins.

The metallic shine reflected in his dark eyes.

In the Solartin Empire, currency was divided into four levels.

100 copper coins equaled 1 silver coin.

100 silver coins equaled 1 gold coin.

100 gold coins equaled 1 royal gold coin.

Royal gold coins were treasures mostly used by nobles, royal families, large clans, and major organizations.

For ordinary people, even a single gold coin was considered wealth.

Armstrong silently calculated the amount.

Eleven thousand silver coins.

Or eleven gold coins.

His heart shook slightly.

This was more money than he and his mother had seen in sixteen years combined.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“A fortune indeed…”

The barbarian leader forced out an ugly smile while sweating heavily.

Armstrong crouched before him calmly.

“I believe this pouch belongs to me now, right?” He asked

The barbarian leader nodded so quickly it almost looked painful.

“Yes, Boss!”

His earlier savage demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s all yours! Please spare my lowly life!”

The surrounding spectators twitched.

Boss?

This shameless bastard changed sides quickly.

Armstrong suddenly grinned.

“Good.”

Then his expression instantly turned cold.

“Now scram before I charge you fifty silver coins for breathing the oxygen around the Great Solartin Mercenary Guild…”

The barbarian leader froze.

“And another fifty for stepping onto this holy land.”

For a second, the crowd was stunned.

Then laughter exploded everywhere.

“Hahaha!”

“He used their own words against them!”

“That kid is ruthless!”

The barbarian mercenaries burned with humiliation, but none dared retaliate.

Especially their leader.

His instincts screamed danger whenever he looked into Armstrong’s eyes.

Without another word, the entire group fled in panic.

The crowd watched them disappear before turning back toward Armstrong with completely different expressions.

Respect.

Curiosity.

Fear.

On his very first day in the capital, an unknown youth had defeated and robbed a D-Rank Mercenary Group publicly.

That alone was enough to attract attention. But what truly shocked them was Armstrong himself.

In this world, there were two great cultivation paths.

The Path of Flesh.

And the Path of Heaven.

Body Cultivators tempered their muscles, skin, bones, organs, and blood to transform themselves into living weapons capable of rivaling ancient beasts.

Qi Refiners absorbed spiritual energy, manipulated natural laws, and pursued transcendence through the Dao.

At higher realms, both paths were equally terrifying.

A peak Body Cultivator could shatter mountains with bare fists.

A peak Qi Refiner could erase cities with a single spell.

Yet despite this balance, almost everyone preferred Qi Refining.

Because Body Cultivation was hell.

It demanded endless pain.

Broken bones.

Torn muscles.

Burning blood.

And even after enduring all that suffering, progress remained painfully slow.

Many died before reaching greatness.

Thus, Body Cultivators were often viewed as crude barbarians or poor cultivators lacking talent for Qi Refinement.

But Armstrong…

Armstrong had just defeated a genuine cultivator using nothing but physical strength.

No wonder the crowd was stunned.

As whispers spread rapidly, Armstrong turned calmly toward the entrance of the Mercenary Guild once more.

The giant black gates towered before him like the jaws of a primordial beast.

Just as he was about to enter,

CLANG!

Heavy footsteps echoed behind him.

The atmosphere instantly changed.

The noisy crowd abruptly quieted.

Armstrong’s eyes narrowed slightly as ten figures surrounded him from all directions.

They wore black armor engraved with silver runes. Crimson cloaks fluttered behind them while terrifying auras radiated from their bodies.

Each carried weapons stained with killing intent.

And on the right side of their chest plates…

An S-Rank badge gleamed coldly.

The surrounding crowd gasped.

“S-Rank Mercenaries!”

“What are they doing here?”

“Did that kid offend someone important?”

Fear appeared in many eyes.

In the Boundless Domain, Mercenary Groups were divided into seven ranks.

D Rank.

C Rank.

B Rank.

A Rank.

S Rank.

SS Rank.

SSS Rank.

A D-Rank leader needed to be either a Mortal Tempering Body Cultivator or a Spirit Gathering Qi Refiner.

C-Rank leaders stood at Skin Forging or Qi Condensation.

B-Rank leaders reached Bone Refinement or Foundation Establishment.

As for A-Rank…

Only Core Formation experts qualified.

And in the entire Solartin Empire, Organ Tempering Body Cultivators were almost nonexistent.

The path was too difficult.

Too painful.

Too resource-demanding.

Thus, almost all powerful mercenary groups relied on Qi Refiners.

But S-Rank Mercenary Groups…

They were monsters.

Their leaders were Nascent Soul experts capable of destroying armies alone.

Even assistant commanders were Core Formation cultivators.

They stood at the peak of the empire’s mercenary world.

So when ten S-Rank armored cultivators surrounded Armstrong simultaneously, everyone believed the young man was doomed.

The pressure alone was terrifying.

Yet Armstrong remained calm.

His sharp senses carefully observed them.

Strong.

Very strong.

Far beyond anyone he had encountered before.

One wrong move and he would die instantly.

The leader of the armored cultivators stepped forward.

He was a tall middle-aged man with a scar across one eye and a giant saber strapped to his back.

His gaze landed on Armstrong thoughtfully.

“You’re the boy who defeated those barbarians?”

Armstrong nodded slightly.

“Yes.”

The man studied him for several moments.

“You’re not a cultivator.”

It wasn’t a question.

Armstrong answered calmly.

“Not yet.”

The surrounding mercenaries exchanged strange looks.

Not yet?

Then how did he possess such monstrous physical power?

The scarred man suddenly smiled faintly.

Interesting.

Very interesting.

“Boy,” he said, “what’s your name?”

“Armstrong.” He answered

“Armstrong…”

The man repeated the name slowly as if memorizing it.

Then his expression became serious.

“The Guild Master wants to see you.”

The crowd exploded instantly.

“The Guild Master?!”

“No way!”

“Why would the Guild Master summon him personally?!”

Even Armstrong’s eyes flickered slightly.

The Guild Master of the Solartin Mercenary Guild was one of the strongest figures in the entire empire.

A genuine Nascent Soul Realm expert.

Someone capable of overlooking the rise and fall of countless lives.

Why would such a person want to see him?

The scarred man noticed Armstrong’s caution and spoke calmly.

“Relax. If the Guild Master wished to harm you, you wouldn’t still be standing.”

The surrounding mercenaries laughed lightly.

Armstrong silently admitted the truth of those words.

Against Nascent Soul experts, he was less than an ant.

Still…

His instincts strangely sensed no hostility.

Only curiosity.

The scarred man stepped aside and gestured toward the massive black gates.

“Come with us.”

Armstrong looked toward the towering Mercenary Guild building.

Deep inside his chest, the strange black mark over his heart pulsed faintly once more. As though anticipating something.

Or someone.

Armstrong slowly exhaled.

The capital city was proving far more dangerous and far more interesting than he expected.

Without another word, he stepped forward and entered the Mercenary Guild under the watchful eyes of countless stunned spectators.