"Where Heaven births worlds, mortals birth defiance and that defiance is called cultivation."
Far beyond the northern borders of Asterion, where the frozen winds howled like ancient spirits and the mountains rose like sleeping gods, there stood a place few dared to approach — a fortress carved into the bones of the world itself.
This was the Black Sky Sect — one of the five great sects of the continent.
From a distance, it looked like a black wound upon the world, a range of obsidian mountains cloaked in clouds and lightning.
Its walls shimmered faintly with ancient runes, the air thick with the scent of spirit energy and steel.
No mortal dared climb its paths without permission, for those who tried never returned.
The sect was divided into six branches, each governing its own path of power and discipline.
Five were known throughout the cultivation world:
The Black Sword Sect – masters of blade and killing intent, wielders of the law of steel.
The Black War Sect – cultivators of body and chaos flame, forged through endless battle.
The Black Stars Sect – keepers of fate, constellations, and ancient astrology.
The Black Silver Sect – scholars of illusion, alchemy, and mind-based cultivation.
The Black Moon Sect – are disciples of the moon there art and technique are refined with moon light stars.
But there was one more.
One spoken of only in whispers, and even then, only among the oldest masters — The Black Asura Sect.
Unlike the other branches, it had no banners and no halls of disciples.
Its numbers could be counted on one hand two, perhaps three at most. Yet, despite its size, every member was said to be powerful enough to end nations.
Their existence was taboo, their arts forbidden.
Their cultivation defied the heavens themselves the Asura Path, a technique said to awaken the blood of gods and demons within mortal flesh.
The world beyond Asterion trembled quietly beneath the will of such power. And within these shadows of ancient mountains, the five great factions of Asterion each sought favor, each reaching unseen hands into the northern sects.
The Third Prince, Makhail, had already pledged loyalty to the Black Sword Sect, becoming the direct disciple of its master a man known only as the Sword Saint of Northwind.
Through him, the Third Prince commanded not just armies, but blades sworn to silence.
And with the banquet approaching within days, he had already sent for several Master Phase cultivators from his sect, hidden within the walls of the capital as "guests."
His plan for the royal banquet required precision, secrecy, and power and the Sword Sect would give him all three.
But Makhail was not the only one weaving threads of fate through the northern peaks.
The Crown Prince Kaen too had ties that ran deep into the mountains.
His master, the War Elder of the Black War Sect, had trained him since boyhood, molding him into a cultivator of unyielding discipline.
Where Makhail's sword carved the air in silence, Kaen's aura shook the earth with every step.
He had summoned two Master Phase experts from the War Sect to stand ready unseen, unspoken of to ensure the banquet, and his rule, remained under his control.
And then there was the Second Prince, Noah.
Noah's path was different colder, quieter, far more calculating.
Though he, too, had studied under the Black Sky Sect, his ties were to the Black Silver Sect masters of illusion and manipulation.
Through them, he had forged a network of spies that spread from the border cities to the capital itself.
His greatest achievement, however, was the founding of the Silver Sky Sect, a hidden faction built upon the techniques of the Silver branch.
To the world, it was merely a small mountain sect devoted to trade and cultivation.
But in truth, it was the North Faction's shadow, its information web stretching across kingdoms.
Noah had no need for Master Phase cultivators at the banquet.
Power was not his weapon control was.
All he desired was the Asura clan's military strength and wealth.
And to gain that, he needed only one person: Crystal Aserra.
The banquet would be his stage, and Crystal his key.
Through deception, charm, and the poison of desire, he would break her mind, claim her body, and through her her clan.
That was his design.
Yet, as the forces of princes and factions moved toward the banquet like pieces upon a divine chessboard, the world itself seemed to hum faintly, quietly as though aware of the storm that was coming.
And below it all, unseen, the sixth branch of the Black Sky Sect stirred.
The Black Asura Sect, silent for centuries, whispered to the wind.
No one knew its intent.
No one even knew if it still existed.
But deep beneath the mountains, in a place where light never reached, something began to move.
A low, rhythmic pulse echoed through the underground halls a heartbeat, ancient and endless.
A presence that felt neither human nor divine.
And with every pulse, the air seemed to tremble, as if the mountain itself was breathing.
"Power does not flow downward. It climbs, devours, and ascends until Heaven trembles and Hell awakens."
For those who walked the path of cultivation, such truths were not philosophy.
They were law.
And so, the narrator's voice calm, ancient, and knowing whispered across the fabric of the world:
In this world, every cultivator is a creator.
Within every human lies the seed of a world a Chaos World, representing the three eternal sources of existence:
The Mind. The Heart. The Void.
Cultivation is not merely the pursuit of strength.
It is the act of creation the expansion, refinement, and awakening of those sources, until one's inner world becomes a reality of its own.
The Mind — the Sea of Will.
It forms the sky of one's Chaos World, where thoughts and enlightenment float like stars.
Here lie intent, aura, perception, and comprehension.
To strengthen the Mind Sea, one must experience life, death, victory, and failure.
It cannot be trained only lived.
The brighter one's Mind Sea, the clearer their path toward the heavens.
The Heart the Soul Light.
At the center of the Chaos World burns the Soul Light a luminous reflection of the cultivator's essence.
It is the difference between life and death, the spark that sustains existence.
Few dare to touch it.
Fewer still can control it.
To cultivate the Soul Light is to risk everything for if it fades, both body and consciousness collapse into dust.
Yet, some rare beings, born under cursed stars or divine fate, possess the ability to absorb soul energy and condense it into a Soul Core.
This marks the creation of the Soul Sea the realm of transcendence, where even death cannot reach.
The Void the Foundation of Creation.
The Dantian, or Void, is the earth beneath all worlds.
From emptiness, it births land, rivers, storms, and flame each reflecting the cultivator's path.
A sword cultivator's inner world gleams with infinite blades;
A flame cultivator's world burns with eternal fire.
Every strike, every breath, every revelation reshapes the inner world into something more complete, more divine.
To cultivate is to defy Heaven, to carve one's own law into existence.
And to create is to challenge the gods themselves.
Thus, the world turned beneath countless stars —
Princes schemed, sects moved, and destinies intertwined.
But unseen by all, the mountain still breathed,
and in its heart, the Asura flame began to awaken once more.
A whisper carried by the northern wind brushed across the night —
"The banquet draws near… and with it, the birth of a new world."