Great! Here's Chapter One of your new cultivation novel Devourer of Roots: Rise Beyond the Heavens. Since it's a slow-progression story, this chapter will focus on world-building, character setup, and planting the seeds for Lin Xuan's unique journey. Let's begin:
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Chapter One: The Crippled Root
The rain fell silently over the village of Dustwind, a place so far from the central provinces that even bandits couldn't be bothered to visit. In this place, cultivation was a luxury. And those born without the blessings of the heavens were simply fated to live and die as mortals.
Lin Xuan stood alone at the edge of a cracked training platform, his thin figure soaked to the bone. His breathing was calm, too calm for someone who had just received the worst news of his life.
"Your Heavenly Root… it's crippled."
Those words echoed in his ears again and again.
The village elder had said it like it was fact, not cruelty. No emotion, no pity—just the same way one would mention the weather.
He should've expected it. From the moment he turned ten, he hadn't shown any signs of spiritual awakening. Now, five years later, at the age of fifteen, his body was still frail, and his aura was thinner than air.
Most youths his age had already begun their Body Tempering journey, breaking through the early stages with the help of their families or small sect scrolls. Some even reached the fourth stage—the peak allowed for a Level One, Stage One Heavenly Root.
But Lin Xuan?
He didn't even have a full root.
Just a fragment. A crippled remnant that couldn't even absorb qi properly.
He clenched his fist.
"I refuse to believe this is all there is…"
The wind howled louder, but he didn't move. His dark hair clung to his skin, and the rain refused to let up, but still—he didn't move.
Behind him, whispers floated.
"That's the crippled one."
"His father was a cultivator once. What a shame."
"He's useless. He won't live past thirty without qi strengthening his body."
They weren't wrong. A mortal body could only endure so much. Without cultivation, he'd never heal wounds quickly, never escape illness. He was already weaker than children younger than him.
But Lin Xuan wasn't angry.
No—what festered inside him wasn't rage.
It was hunger.
A silent, unbearable hunger to defy everything.
That night, as the village fell asleep, Lin Xuan remained wide awake. He climbed the old hill behind the village—once used by long-dead cultivators for meditation—and stared into the sky.
Thunder rolled across the heavens, and for a moment, he smiled bitterly.
"Heaven, if you made me weak… then I'll just take strength from those you blessed."
It was foolish talk. Dangerous even. But the moment the words left his lips, something stirred beneath the soil of the hill.
A small tremor.
Then silence.
Then pain.
Blinding, burning pain shot through Lin Xuan's spine as a flood of memories surged into his mind—images, diagrams, ancient chants spoken in a language older than the sects themselves.
And then he heard the voice.
It was neither male nor female, old nor young. It echoed not in his ears, but in his very blood.
"Take what you were denied."
Lin Xuan fell to the ground, convulsing as invisible energy carved something into his soul. When the pain faded, he gasped for breath, sweat pouring from his body despite the cold.
He sat up slowly, trembling, and looked at his palm.
There, glowing faintly, was a strange black symbol—a twisting spiral wrapped around a broken root.
His heartbeat thundered.
He didn't know what it was. He didn't know how it worked. But instinct whispered one truth into his heart:
This is how you will rise.
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Let me know if you'd like the chapter extended to around 1,500 words or want to move to Chapter Two. We can also include more internal thoughts, minor character interactions, or hints about future arcs if you like