Chapter 1: Exile from Home

Night had fallen, a shroud of thin clouds masking the starlit sky, leaving only a faint glimmer on the horizon. A lone figure walked silently along the winding mountain path. Behind him, the imposing estate of the Xishan family, now swallowed by darkness, was barely visible, fading into a distant memory.

Xishan Wu moved steadily, his steps calm and resolute. A simple pack was slung over his shoulder, and tucked inside his robe was an ancient scroll—the treasured manual of cultivation passed down through generations of his family. This scroll was the lifeblood of the Xishan family, reserved only for those of high standing. Now, it was his sole possession, the cornerstone on which his future power would be built.

His fingers gently brushed the worn cover of the manual as he recalled his father's cold voice in the family hall just days earlier: "You are better off away from the Xishan family. Your presence only invites disaster." The indifference of his father and the disdain of the elders cut deep, but Xishan Wu knew this was the result of internal power struggles. He was merely a pawn, cast out in the game of family politics.

Reaching the peak, he paused, taking one last look at the mansion that had once been his home. Silently, he vowed to himself that, no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would return one day and make the Xishan family recognize his strength. In a low voice, he whispered, "I will come back—with honor and power." His words were calm, yet filled with unshakable determination.

Without looking back, Xishan Wu turned and made his way down the mountain toward the small town in the distance. The wind blew, cold and biting, as if warning him of the hardships ahead. But he didn't hesitate; his mind was fixed on the future, driven by ambition and purpose.

Days later, Xishan Wu arrived in a small, remote town far from the centers of power in the cultivation world. The streets were narrow and rundown, with a few sparse shops just opening for the day. Stray dogs scavenged in the corners, and the air carried a faint stench of decay. The town was poor, its walls crumbling, and its people dressed in ragged clothes, their faces worn with fatigue.

Yet this unassuming, quiet place was to be his new refuge. As Xishan Wu surveyed his surroundings, he thought, No cultivators, no major powers—this is the perfect place to bide my time and build my strength.

He wandered through the town until he stopped at a small tavern. A battered wooden sign swayed in the wind above the entrance. Xishan Wu pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the dimly lit hall. The tavern was modest, with a few wooden tables scattered about, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and greasy food, tinged with a hint of rot. A handful of patrons sat in the corners, talking quietly, blending into the worn-out atmosphere.

Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man with rough skin and narrowed eyes, sizing up the stranger. Xishan Wu approached, placing a few copper coins on the counter and speaking softly, "Any work for someone like me?"

The tavern owner glanced at the coins and then at Xishan Wu. A flicker of suspicion passed through his eyes. Despite Xishan Wu's simple clothes, there was an air of calm strength about him that set him apart from the usual drifters. But the owner had seen many such wandering cultivators pass through, and after a moment's pause, he pocketed the coins. "Washing dishes. Fifty copper a month and one meal a day. Take it or leave it."

Xishan Wu nodded without a word. The owner led him to the back courtyard, where wooden barrels and cleaning tools were scattered around, and greasy dishes were piled by the washbasin. Xishan Wu rolled up his sleeves and began to scrub, his movements smooth and practiced. He worked with a quiet precision, all the while taking in his surroundings—the layout of the courtyard, the positions of the windows and doors, even the locations of the barrels and the well.

The Art of Observation

Days passed as Xishan Wu moved between the courtyard and the tavern hall, outwardly no more than a lowly dishwasher, but inwardly ever vigilant. Each time a new customer entered, he watched from the shadows, studying their clothes, their manner of speaking, their expressions, piecing together the hidden power structure of the town.

One evening, while cleaning dishes in the back, he overheard a commotion in the front hall. Setting the dish aside, he quietly approached, peering through a crack in the door. Two burly men were arguing with the tavern owner, voices rising with tension. Yet, despite the heated exchange, the owner remained unperturbed, his expression calm as he locked eyes with the men.

Eventually, the confrontation ended, with the men storming off in frustration. Xishan Wu noticed the owner's complete lack of concern, hinting that he was no ordinary tavern keeper. It was becoming clear to Xishan Wu that this small town's dynamics were more complex than they appeared on the surface.

Training in the Dead of Night

When the tavern closed and the night deepened, Xishan Wu returned to his small rented room. The furnishings were meager, a wooden bed and an oil lamp the only decorations. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes and focused his breath, sinking his mind into the flow of his inner energy. Beside him lay the family's ancient manual. The techniques within were profound, their meanings elusive even after days of careful study. But Xishan Wu was patient, chanting the verses silently and cycling through the family's cultivation method with fluid ease.

Outside, the wind howled, carrying a chill. Through the cracked window, he saw shadows moving stealthily past. He didn't flinch. He knew these weren't common thieves—they were watching him. A faint smile touched his lips as he closed his eyes again. He understood that he had already caught the attention of some within the town.

The shadows drifted away, and Xishan Wu calmly finished his practice, his face untroubled. Such minor annoyances weren't worth his concern. He knew that this town was only a temporary hiding place, a stepping stone toward his true goals. Over time, he would use the small factions here to gather the resources and information needed for his path to power.

A New Beginning

As the night deepened, Xishan Wu carefully put away the family's manual. Though he was far from home, alone and exiled, the legacy of his family still burned within him. He whispered to himself, "Xishan family, one day, you will be proud of me."

Closing his eyes once more, he sank into meditation. His inner energy surged quietly like a sleeping beast, waiting for the moment to awaken. No longer was he the outcast, the discarded pawn. He was now a cultivator, preparing to rise. His journey to greatness had begun, here in this forgotten, unremarkable town.