They say my birth brought a curse. That the moment I cried, the heavens wept blood and demons danced in the skies. Dramatic, right? But also true. The night I was born, Fenglin Village burned. The sky turned crimson—not a gentle sunset red, but the kind that made even seasoned cultivators grip their swords. Something ancient and cruel had awakened. No one knew why. Until the Demon Clan descended.
They came like a shadow tide, dark and wild, clawed hands ripping through spirit walls like paper. Screams shattered the night. Fires rose from every roof. And at the center of it all, a woman was giving birth—my mother. While the world collapsed around her, she gave me life. My father stood outside, sword broken, armor cracked, still fighting. His last stand. I never saw his face, but I've always imagined it was calm, steady—like a man who knew what he was protecting.
Inside, my mother carved runes into the floor with blood-stained fingers. Ancient glyphs that glowed faintly with divine light. She didn't scream. She didn't hesitate. She just looked down at me, newborn and silent, and whispered something I'd never remember. Then the formation lit up—and she was gone.
I survived. Alone. Crying inside a divine barrier as my village became ash. When they found me days later, I was wrapped in scorched cloth, eyes open. A miracle to some. A curse to most. "His cry summoned the fire." "He's demon-touched." "Bad omen." People fear what they don't understand. Especially when it smells like burnt flesh.
I was dumped in the Ruyi Orphan Hall. Not raised—stored. The other kids avoided me like I was contagious. The caretakers barely acknowledged I was human. You know you're truly alone when even rats don't want to share space with you. But I didn't cry. Not after that first night. Crying didn't bring warmth. It didn't bring food. It didn't bring her back.
Years passed. I learned to keep quiet, move fast, and hit back harder. One boy tried to bully me once—once. I broke his nose and left him whimpering on the temple floor. They started calling me "Ash Cub." Fitting, I guess. Something born from flame, destined to bite.
At eleven, I ran. Took the only thing I had—my father's half-melted blade, dug from the ruins—and left the village under a moonless sky. No plan. No food. Just instinct. Something inside me whispered, "Go." So I did. West, toward the forgotten lands.
I reached a place no maps dared name: the Valley of Forgotten Souls. A cursed land. Dead trees. Cold winds. No sound but your heartbeat, and even that felt borrowed. People said the place swallowed travelers. I welcomed the idea.
That's where I met the crippled lunatic who changed everything.
He looked like a beggar. Tattered robes, mismatched shoes, leaning on a dragon-bone cane. But his eyes? Sharp. Unblinking. Like they saw through time itself. He threw me a rock-hard bun and said, "Want to die, do it with purpose. Want to live, follow me." I followed. Hunger overrules pride.
His name was Shen. Or that's what he let me call him. A retired cultivator, broken by battle, mad by choice. He didn't train me—he broke me. First day, he tossed me off a cliff. Said, "Climb back or die." I climbed. Three ribs cracked. He smiled and handed me a wooden sword. "Now we start."
Days blurred. Training that would kill most grown men became my routine. Strike until your arms fail. Dodge until your legs collapse. Meditate until your soul screams. If I cried, he hit harder. If I cursed, he laughed. "Pain's just the tax you pay for greatness," he said once, casually sipping tea while I bled on the ground.
Years passed like this. My body hardened. My mind sharpened. The fire in me—whatever it was—started stirring. Strange dreams haunted me: dragons roaring, temples burning, runes glowing across my skin. And one night, it happened. I touched the flame. Not normal fire. This one was silver, alive, whispering. It danced in my palm like it knew my name.
Shen wasn't surprised. "Took you long enough," he muttered. "That's not normal flame. That's bloodline fire." He wouldn't say more, only that my soul had awakened, and that the heavens would either kill me—or kneel.
I didn't care about fate. I didn't want revenge. I didn't crave titles. All I wanted was to rise—so high that the world would never forget my name again. Let the heavens hate me. Let the clans fear me. I would carve my path in flame, and they would all watch.
My name is Ling Ye.
And this… this is just the beginning.