The night sky in Tianyuan Continent was as dark as rice paper with ink splashed on it. In the alchemy room of the Qingyun Sect, Lin Xuan was hunched over, sweeping the medicinal residue on the floor with the badly worn broom. The candlelight swayed on the wall, stretching his thin figure. Since he was diagnosed with "wasted spiritual roots" five years ago, he has gone from a young man who was expected to become the sect's favorite to a handyman who can be bullied by everyone. He spends his days sweeping ashes and refining medicine in this alchemy room, living a life of darkness.
"Lin Xuan, hurry up! The Qi Gathering Pill that the elder is going to use tomorrow hasn't been refined yet. It's delayed things. It's your pleasure!" Senior brother Wang Hao's roar came from outside the alchemy room, frightening the broom in Lin Xuan's hand to tremble slightly. He whispered "I'll be ready soon" and speeded up the cleaning. He has long been accustomed to such scolding. In Qingyun Sect, no strength means no dignity.
It was late at night, and the entire sect fell into a deep sleep. Lin Xuan was still busy in the alchemy room. He looked at the medicine liquid in the alchemy furnace in front of him that had not yet become an elixir, his eyes full of helplessness. "If only there was a chance to change everything..." He murmured to himself. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew by, the candle suddenly went out, and the alchemy room fell into darkness. Lin Xuan was startled. He fumbled and took out the fire stick from his arms. Just as he was about to light it, he found that something seemed to be reflecting light on the ground.
He knelt down and looked carefully under the faint moonlight, only to see a broken classic lying quietly in the corner. The cover of the classics was covered with dust, and the words "Xuan Lingce" could be faintly seen. Lin Xuan curiously picked up the book and opened it gently. On the yellowed paper,
