The day he transmigrated, Lin Yuan was mocked by the entire sect as having “useless blood.”
He looked down at his own blood and smiled.
Three months later, blood-red light shot into the sky from the mountain behind the sect. He crawled out of a rift, covered in blood but without a single wound, with a stele now in his palm.
It turned out that in this world, some relied on talent, some on their bloodline, and some on their connections.
As for him, he relied on “experience.”
Slay a demon beast, and his blood congeals into a stele, granting him the beast's power.
Survive a tribulation, and his blood congeals into a stele, letting him turn the tables when all hope seems lost.
Be betrayed, and his blood congeals into a stele, allowing him to see through every illusion from then on.
The farther he traveled, the more vast his forest of steles became.
But the more steles he had, the heavier his tribulations grew.
Every stele was paid for with a life. Before him, 29,999 inheritors had died, their steles shattered and their lives extinguished.
He was the last one.
And the only one still alive.
Later, someone asked him, “Mr. Lin, among all these bloodstained steles across the mountains... which one marks your limit?”
Lin Yuan looked up at the thirty-seven brightest stars in the heavens.
They were his steles. They were also the people who had died: Xie Yuan, Jie Sheng, and 29,999 inheritors whose names he could no longer recall.
He said, “The steles are complete.”
“Up in the sky.”
“As for my limit...”
He lowered his gaze and kept walking.
There were still seven gates ahead, and countless paths waiting for him to open them.
“I'll tell you when I've walked them all.”
[The steles stand in the sky; the road lies beneath our feet.]
Some stars keep shining forever.
