If I Cannot Cultivate Against the Heavens, I Shall Become Their Lord

Caked in dust, with a soul forged from iron. The boy rose with a broken sword in hand, tempered through countless trials until he sharpened himself from humble beginnings. His parents waited by the door, his brothers stood at his side, and the woman he loved looked back. On the path against fate, he never took a single step back. He gripped a broken sword and tempered himself into iron. The world mocked him as a cripple born with an ordinary body, but he carved his way forward through blood and fire. If Heaven would not grant his wish, then he would defy Heaven itself.