Yang Yin Long sat cross-legged in his courtyard, the faint scent of ozone still lingering from his last thunder tempering. His body hummed with restrained power — every bone was a conduit of thunder, every breath carried the pulse of heaven and earth.
He had reached the late stage of first-order body refinement, and his cultivation of the Thunder Origin Sword Technique had stabilized.
But power brought silence, and in that silence, a question had taken root — one that had followed him for years.
For a long time, he had ignored it, hoping the rhythm of cultivation would drown it out. Yet today, it pressed against his chest like a second heartbeat.
The question was simple.
What should I do with the three Fruits?
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His gaze drifted to the small jade box resting beside him. Even though the fruits looked plain now — like nothing more than ripe gourds — he knew better. Each carried the condensed essence of creation: fragments of monarch and sovereign qi, threads of fate, and bloodlines powerful enough to warp destiny itself.
He had already decided to use the Slaughter Mountain Sword Body Fruit for himself. That much was clear. But when to use it — that was another matter entirely.
Using such a treasure within the sect was courting disaster. Even if he masked the fluctuations, the elders would sense something. A sudden rise in strength, a spiritual body blooming out of nowhere — such things never went unnoticed.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly. "To use it here… is suicide."
The other two fruits were an even greater burden.
He couldn't sell them. He couldn't trade them. He couldn't even hint at their existence.
If the sect discovered that he possessed something as blasphemous as a Heaven and Earth Refining Vine, it would be over — his future, his life, all of it.
The vine had already made its presence faintly known to him — a subtle pulse in his sea of consciousness, a steady rhythm that devoured a sliver of his fate each day to survive. It was careful, considerate even, as though afraid of harming its host.
But Yin Long wasn't naive. He understood what that meant.
If it were to absorb freely, his life would burn out like a candle in a storm.
That was why he had hesitated for so long. That was why he had spent years thinking — where could I plant this vine? Where can I find enough fortune to feed it without losing my own?
---
The answer had come unexpectedly — from a conversation, three years ago, with a senior brother returning to the mortal world. The man had spoken with a light heart, boasting that he would serve as an Immortal Protector for a mortal kingdom, take a few wives, start a family, and live out his remaining years teaching his descendants the Dao.
Yin Long had smiled politely at the time, but those words had taken root.
He didn't need to retreat into obscurity. He needed fate.
And the mortal world was drowning in it.
Every birth, every death, every prayer offered under a temple's shadow — that was fate in motion. The rise and fall of empires were the tides of destiny itself.
And fate was precisely what the Heaven and Earth Refining Vine required to live… and to bear fruit.
The decision, once terrifying, now felt obvious. He would descend to the mortal world.
There, he would establish roots — build a foundation not only for his cultivation, but for something greater:
a family, a dynasty, a source of fate that would feed both vine and man.
---
There was another advantage, one the sect itself had unknowingly provided.
Every great sect had disciples who served as Immortal Protectors to mortal empires. They upheld the sect's authority, resolved disputes, and suppressed demonic threats. In return, they could claim certain privileges — chief among them: the right to ascend the throne.
If an Immortal Protector deemed a mortal emperor unworthy or incapable, he could remove the ruler and take the throne himself. The only stipulation was that the throne, upon his death or abduction of power, must return to the original royal line.
Many royal families despised the law, yet none dared to defy it.
The monastic sects were the pillars of the continent; their decrees carried more weight than crowns.
To most cultivators, the throne was a burden — a place of stagnation.
But to Yin Long, it was an opportunity.
A throne was a beacon of fate. An empire was a vessel for fortune. By sitting upon that throne, he could draw in fate qi to nourish the Heaven and Earth Refining Vine. The vine would recover, and its latent divinity might awaken once more.
And then…
He could use the Fruits.
---
He looked again at the jade box. The faint pulse of the vine within his sea of consciousness responded to his thoughts — as though pleased, approving.
"Even you agree," Yin Long murmured with a wry smile. "You sly little parasite."
He thought back to the details the vine had shared during its brief moment of communication. To create even a single divine fruit, it needed vast quantities of spiritual qi, essence qi, and — most importantly — fate qi. Without it, no fruit could mature properly.
Fate qi wasn't something a cultivator could harvest from thin air. It had to be earned — accumulated through influence, reverence, the recognition of others.
He needed to be seen, remembered, worshiped.
Only then would fate flow toward him.
For that, there was no better stage than a mortal empire.
---
Yin Long rose to his feet and looked toward the horizon.
The wind was heavy with summer heat, carrying the scent of wet earth and the whisper of distant rain.
"I'll become an emperor," he said softly. "A mortal one, perhaps — but one chosen by heaven all the same."
A faint glint of amusement crossed his eyes. "Besides, if I must play the part, I may as well do it well. My future son or daughter will be born under the protection of the heavens themselves."
He already had plans.
He would use the Sword-Wolf God Fruit on his future empress.
With it, their child would inherit both a monarch-grade spiritual body and an emperor-grade beast bloodline.
A child born under such conditions would shake the world — the first seed of his immortal family line.
---
He exhaled, and for the first time in years, his heart felt light.
The sect had given him strength. The heavens had given him opportunities.
Now it was time for him to seize his own fate — and forge his empire beneath the stars.
As he walked back into his residence, the storm clouds above his courtyard broke, and a single ray of sunlight pierced through, landing upon the jade box beside him.
The three divine fruits gleamed faintly under the light — as if acknowledging the first step in the grand plan of fate.
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The main story is now close to its true start
As when I imagined this story the real start was when mc had taken over the throne and started using heaven and earth refining vine.
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Plz support with comments and reviews as that will help me correct mistakes and write a better story for you all.