I Severed Myself Seven Times, No Longer Prey for Cultivators

Chen Yuan kneels on the ground, picking up medicinal herbs, when a boot pins his hand down. He doesn't look up. Looking up would get him killed. He has no idea that from this day on, the entire cultivation world will know one thing: When mortals die, cultivators won't survive either. Seventeen years old. No spiritual root. An apprentice at an herb shop. His little sister is dying. He has begged across the whole city, but no one will sell him medicine on credit. A mad beggar tells him there is a way to save her. With the first strike, he is no longer anyone's prey. With the second, he forgets his sister's face. With the third, the world forgets him. After the seventh strike, he vanishes. But every mortal trampled into the mud begins dreaming of a hatchet and a figure walking away. The blade is in your hands.