The Mortal Who Would Not Yield

When Chen Mo was twelve, he collapsed from hunger outside Yunlai Temple. An old monk brought him a bowl of thin porridge, and he survived. He had no talent: five spiritual roots, each as thin as a strand of silk. No connections, no resources. His only stroke of luck was a tattered page of golden silk wedged into a crack in a ruined temple wall. The “Returning to the Origin Method” written on it was hardly a cultivation technique at all, just a clumsy way to teach people to look within and sense their bodies. Others scoffed. Chen Mo treasured it. He chopped wood for three years and practiced boxing for three more. When others repeated a move once, he did it a hundred times. If talent wasn't enough, he would make up for it with his life. His meridians were narrow, so he worked them inch by inch until they widened. When his golden core refused to form, he shattered it and tried again, smashing through the bottleneck by sheer force. It took him forty years to go from body tempering to ascension. In those forty years, he was beaten, ran for his life, and lost brothers in arms. The Sword Obsessive took him as a disciple not for his talent, but for his willpower. Xuan Yuan Wu Qing treated him as a rival, admiring not his strength but his unbreakable resilience. When the Heavenly Demons invaded, he stood before the rift in a mortal body. Behind him were countless ordinary people. Before him, darkness devoured heaven and earth. He drew the iron sword that had been with him for half his life. This strike was not for immortality or fame. It was for the people behind him, so they would never go hungry again. A mortal refuses to yield and asks the heavens about the Dao. A bowl of porridge, a sword, and a road no one has ever traveled. Dedicated to all ordinary people who lack talent but have never given up.