[No System] [No Female Lead] [Power Fantasy]
He entered the sect at seven and established his foundation at ten. No one else in Qingyun Sect's three-hundred-year history had ever done that.
That one shout before the Spirit-Testing Stele was heard throughout Qingzhou.
Then his own people pinned him to the secret trial platform and ripped out his celestial spiritual root.
The one who cut off his mother's medicine was the man he had called “Senior Brother” for three years. The one who did it was an elder he had revered for seven.
As he was shoved off a cliff, the last thing he heard his senior brother say was, “Your spiritual root is still useful.”
He did not die.
At the bottom of the cliff, in a dried-up pool, he found something. It gave him neither a spiritual root nor a cultivation manual.
It gave him only a path no one had ever managed to walk: draw no spiritual energy, and train only the bones in his own body.
Later, at the outer sect's martial arts arena, a cripple stood before the formal disciples and raised his hand.
One punch.
