Thirteen years had passed in silence, unnoticed by the world—but not by the one who had endured every moment of them.
As he grew, his appearance became more of a problem.
At fifteen, he had a fragile beauty, like a sculpture made of cold jade. His flawless skin was pale from years of illness. His long black hair flowed down to his waist, and his pale lips gave him an almost ghostly look. His calm white-grey eyes were cold yet strangely captivating. All of this combined gave him a presence people couldn't ignore.
The worst part? His body had started to develop. Subtle curves were forming in all the right places, soft and gradually becoming unmistakably feminine.
"Damn it, this body. If only I had been born a man in this life."
The way people looked at him made his skin crawl. Not all of them, but enough. He had thought about shaving his head before. Or maybe scarring his face—just enough to make people stop staring. But each time, reason held him back.
"No matter how much I hate it, this appearance might be useful. I could fool some idiot with it someday. Or bait someone if needed."
His hand tightened slightly.
"It's a double-edged sword. But if I can handle it well, it will cut both ways."
Over the years, Ren struggled with his body and dealt with unwanted stares. Still, he managed to piece together a basic understanding of the world around him.
This world was divided into five main continents: North, South, East, West, and Central. Ren lived in the Eastern Continent, though he couldn't say how far its borders reached. What he did know was that each continent covered an unimaginable distance. Even the smallest one, the Western Continent, stretched over a hundred million kilometers in landmass, two hundred times the size of the sun.
He didn't know the full size of the Eastern Continent, only that it was even larger. Just thinking about how vast this world was made his head ache.
Still, he was secretly thankful for one thing: he wasn't born in the West.
The Western Continent had a reputation that even villagers whispered about. It was seen as barren, undeveloped, and spiritually empty. Worst of all, its people were looked down upon across the rest of the world. Whether due to old grudges or deep-rooted bias, Westerners were treated like second-class citizens. This bias was common knowledge.
"Tch. At least I dodged that bullet."
From the occasional passing cultivator or traveling merchant, Ren learned that sects visited larger cities every few years to recruit new disciples. But not everyone could join. Cultivation required a spiritual root, something innate and rare. Without it, no matter how much someone trained or wished for it, the path remained closed.
He didn't fully understand what a spiritual root was, but that didn't matter. He had already made one decision:
He would enter the cultivation world. Weak body or not, background or not, this world only respected power.
Despite his efforts to keep a low profile, his appearance made that nearly impossible.
People in town knew him well, even those from neighboring towns.
His looks alone drew attention. Over the years, more than a few had tried to win over Su Yi. Some sent small gifts while others came with marriage proposals, to a fifteen-year-old, no less. Each one was rejected coldly, but they kept coming.
"This damned face… sometimes I wonder if carving scars across it would finally give me some peace."
But for now, he kept pretending not to hear them.
There were more important things to focus on.
___
Su Yi and Chen Yu had a child of their own three years ago — a boy named Su Chen.
To the villagers, he was adorable. Lively, loud, and endlessly energetic.
To Ren, he was… exhausting.
The boy clung to him constantly, always pulling at his sleeves, shouting nonsense, or demanding to play just when Ren wanted silence. It was like living with a wind-up toy that never ran out of energy.
Sometimes, Ren wondered how a creature that small could make so much noise.
Still, he said nothing. Chen Yu doted on the child, and Su Yi would likely frown at any complaints. More importantly, they had taken him in. He owed them that much.
So he tolerated it — distant, quiet, and cold when needed.
He didn't dislike the boy.
He just didn't care. Not yet.
Soon, a nearby city would host a recruitment—one of many minor sects looking to take in fresh blood.
Ren didn't care which one.
He didn't even know their names.
To the villagers, it was an opportunity. To him, it was something else entirely.
He wasn't chasing honor or dreams of immortality. He just needed a foothold. A place to begin. And if he could choose… he already knew the kind of sect he'd prefer.
One that didn't shackle ambition with empty ideals. One where strength and results spoke louder.
In a world ruled by power, that kind of place felt almost familiar.
In a world ruled by strength, that kind of place felt almost familiar.
For someone like him, it was like slipping quietly back into water.