*CHAPTER 1 : "TWO DEATHS, ONE ORPHAN"*
The mountain wind cut through his thin robes.
Silas clutched the empty rice sack to his chest. The stone steps were slick from last night's rain.
Above him, the Azure Cloud Sect rose into the clouds. Golden roofs. Cultivators flying on swords.
Below him, the outer path. Mud. Porters. Death.
*Body Talent: F. Energy Talent: F.*
The elder had said it that morning without looking up. Steam from his tea was the only thing that moved.
"Outer sect. Porter. Until you die."
That was it. 16 years of breathing. Over.
Silas wasn't angry. He'd been angry 60 years ago.
Now he was just tired.
The stone was wet.
His foot went out from under him.
The sack fell first.
Then him.
There was no scream.
There was no hand.
There was only wind. And then nothing.
Darkness.
---
Cold.
Dirt in his mouth.
Blood on his lips.
Silas opened his eyes.
Leaves. Black sky.
Pain in his ribs.
"Again," he whispered.
Then the hammering started.
Two lives colliding.
And this time, he remembered.
_I was 10. Red Leaf Clan took me in. Charity case. F talent. They fed me to shut me up._
_I was 12. Found it. Soul Forging, 9 Steps. The library elder laughed. "Trash. Only fools read that."_
_I was 15. Still F. Everyone else Foundation. I didn't sleep. I read._
_I was 20. Still F. Still 3rd Rank. My friends stopped inviting me. I stopped caring._
_I was 25. 6th Rank. The technique was garbage for fighting. But it let me feel Spiritual Energy in the air. Pull it in, thread by thread. Slow. Painful. Obsessive._
_I was 30. 9th Peak. They looked at me again. For 3 days. Then they saw I still couldn't form a foundation. F talent. The look faded._
_I was 40. Alone. The technique couldn't go further. Soul too weak._
_I was 70. I started taking them. The dying. "Mercy," I told myself. I carved their souls to study them._
_I was 84. Stone room. 13th attempt. Carving runes into my own soul. The backlash hit. Blood. Dark._
The memories stopped.
Silas was still 16. Still broken.
But now he was also 84.
He didn't waste time.
Wasting time was how he lost 50 years.
A fragment surfaced.
_"...Soul exists before Spiritual Energy... First step: Awakening... Feel emotion..."_
Trash. He knew.
But it was all he had.
He lay still. Observed.
Pressure behind his eyes.
0.5 meters left. _Eat. Hide._ A beetle.
0.9 meters above. Empty.
A sense. Filed it.
The pressure shifted.
1 meter to his right. Outside the bushes.
Breathing. Wet.
A beast.
He felt its mind.
Simple. _Weak. Meat. Eat._
Silas closed his eyes.
No Spiritual Energy. No strength.
But he had 84 years of fear. Of failure. Of being ignored.
He pulled it up.
And he pushed.
Not words.
Just: _This is what it feels like to be nothing for 60 years._
*Fear.*
The beast's mind hit it and shattered.
_Big. Wrong. Run._
Branches snapped.
Silas opened his eyes.
And the world dragged.
His head was full of water.
Thoughts came slow. Like wading through mud.
Vision blurred at the edges.
_Depletion,_ he noted. _Divine Sense overuse._
The old man knew.
It wasn't controlling the beast.
It was making the beast _feel_ him. His fear, his years, his weight.
And it had a price.
"So," he thought, and it took effort. "It works. And it costs."
Not a gift. A debt.
He was in the jungle. Broken. Starving. Forgotten.
But inside 1 meter, he had leverage.
The sect threw him away.
The world threw him away.
*Good.*
The forgotten don't need permission to survive.
---
*END CHAPTER 1*
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