This is a world of cultivation where the strong prey on the weak, and from the start, he is nothing but the lowest of the low.
He has no illustrious family, no heaven-defying talent, and must fight with everything he has just to survive: scavenging scraps amid mountains of corpses and seas of blood, barely clinging to life in the cracks between sects, regarded as dust by the powerful and mercilessly crushed by fate.
"An ant like you thinks you can gaze up at the heavens?"
Countless taunts and countless brushes with death cannot grind away that sliver of defiance buried in his bones.
When he clenches his fists and crawls out of a heap of corpses; when he uses his blood as ink to carve his refusal to yield into the depths of despair; when the entire world thinks he will vanish like billions of others before him...
He glimpses a sliver of hope in the humblest of places and comprehends the laws of the universe in the depths of despair.
From an abandoned sect disciple to sweeping across the eight corners of the world, from being slaughtered at others' mercy to striking down gods and demons in defiance, the road he walks is piled with corpses. The heavens he looks up to are destined to collapse.
The world calls him an anomaly, a variable, a madman who overturns the established order.
But he says, "All I want is to win a single chance to transcend this damn prison of fate."
When an ant spreads wings that blot out the sky, when dust becomes an undying star, watch as this ant, once trampled beneath everyone's feet, overturns the Nine Heavens, shatters reincarnation, and carves out a path to transcendence never before walked, amid the shackles of ten thousand ways!
