The winter in the Azure Cloud Mountains was not merely a season; it was a predator. Its icy claws gripped the land, tearing at anything that dared to breathe. Under a sky the color of a bruised corpse, a line of ragged teenagers shuffled through the knee-deep snow. The wind howled like a thousand tormented souls, flaying their skin and turning their brittle bones into jagged shards of ice. Their faces were hollow, their lips a deathly blue. Yet, they kept moving, their eyes fixed on the towering jade gates of the Scarlet Cloud Sect, a beacon of immortal light that promised an escape from their miserable mortal lives.
Among them was Hua Sui.
He was gaunt, his frame so thin it seemed a stiff breeze might snap his bones. His hands were thrust deep into his tattered sleeves, gripping his own forearms to steal meager warmth. His body radiated an unnatural cold, a chill that seemed to seep from his very marrow. While the other youths shivered from the biting wind, Hua Sui's cold was internal, a constant companion that had plagued him since birth. His heart beat sluggishly, his breath a barely visible wisp in the freezing air. He had fallen ill three days ago, a fever that clawed at his insides, making every step a monumental effort.
"Keep moving, you useless dregs!" A harsh, guttural shout pierced the wind. "Anyone who falls behind gets left for the wolves!"
It was Wang Er, the leader of this desperate procession. A hulking brute of a man, his face scarred and his eyes glinting with a savage amusement. He carried a thick wooden club, its end worn smooth from countless beatings. Wang Er wasn't much older than the youths, but years of hardship and brutality had twisted him into a petty tyrant. He was the village chief's son, a man who believed his position granted him absolute power over those weaker than himself.
Suddenly, a young girl with braids stumbled, her small body collapsing into a snowdrift. Before she could even cry out, Wang Er's club descended with a sickening thud. A muffled scream, a spray of blood against the pristine snow, and the girl lay motionless, a grotesque doll amidst the white.
Wang Er kicked her body with a sneer. "Useless trash. The Scarlet Cloud Sect only wants strong spiritual roots, not weaklings. No one sheds a tear for the dead." His gaze swept over the remaining youths, lingering on Hua Sui, whose thin frame seemed particularly vulnerable. "You there, Hua Sui! Move it! Don't think your 'Inverse Meridians' will grant you special treatment. If anything, they mark you for an even worse fate!"
Hua Sui didn't flinch. He had long grown accustomed to Wang Er's cruelty. His "Inverse Meridians"—a constitution that caused his spiritual energy to flow in reverse—was a curse that had brought him nothing but suffering since childhood. His parents had abandoned him at birth, fearful of the ill omen. The village had scorned him, treating him as a harbinger of misfortune. He survived by scavenging, by clinging to the fringes of society, a phantom among the living. He knew that even if he reached the Scarlet Cloud Sect, his fate would likely be no better. Yet, an inexplicable instinct, a stubborn refusal to yield, pushed him forward.
The journey stretched for another agonizing day and night. Many more fell, their silent sacrifices swallowed by the endless snow. By the time the ragged group reached the outer gates of the Scarlet Cloud Sect, only a fraction remained. Exhausted, frostbitten, and scarred, they collapsed onto the snow-covered ground, gasping for breath. The magnificent sect gates, carved from ancient jade and radiating a faint spiritual glow, seemed less like a promise and more like a mocking illusion.
Hua Sui, despite his fever and his peculiar cold, was among the survivors. His eyes, usually dull and lifeless, now held a faint, resilient spark.
A tall, austere elder with a crimson robe and a long, white beard emerged from the sect gates. His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept over the huddled survivors, radiating a powerful spiritual pressure that made the very air crackle. This was Elder Hong, an outer-gate elder responsible for recruitment.
"Rise, all of you!" Elder Hong's voice boomed, carrying an undeniable authority. "Those who survived the journey have proven their resilience. Now, let us test your roots!"
One by one, the remaining youths stepped forward. Elder Hong would place his hand on their heads, testing their spiritual roots. Most were dismissed with a wave of his hand, their hopes crushed. A few, deemed to have acceptable "Fifth-Grade Spiritual Roots," were led away, their faces alight with nascent hope.
Then it was Hua Sui's turn.
As Elder Hong's hand rested on Hua Sui's head, the elder's expression, usually impassive, visibly darkened. A strange, chaotic spiritual energy surged from Hua Sui, not flowing outward as it should, but swirling inward, pulling at Elder Hong's own spiritual force.
"Inverse Meridians!" Elder Hong exclaimed, snatching his hand back as if burned. His voice was laced with a mixture of fear and disgust. "This... this is an abomination! A crippled vessel! How did such a thing even survive this long?!"
The other recruits recoiled, their faces mirroring the elder's horror. "Inverse Meridians" was not just a curse; it was an omen, a sign of utter unsuitfulness for cultivation.
Wang Er, who had managed to scrape by with a meager Seventh-Grade Spiritual Root, sneered from the side. "See, Elder? I told you he was bad luck! He nearly died on the road, wasting our time!"
Elder Hong's gaze lingered on Hua Sui, a flicker of cold calculation in his eyes. He raised his hand, seemingly about to banish Hua Sui. But then, an idea seemed to strike him. "Wait. While your meridians are indeed inverted, the sheer tenacity of your life force is... unusual. And your Inverse Qi, though chaotic, is remarkably potent when channeled inward."
He turned to a younger disciple beside him. "Take this one to the Broken Soul Pavilion. Old Man Qin has been asking for a new 'Pill Slave' for his experimental elixirs. This one's unique constitution might just be... suitable."
Hua Sui felt a cold dread creep into his heart. He knew of the Broken Soul Pavilion. It was a place of ill repute, where failed cultivators and desperate alchemists conducted dangerous experiments. A "Pill Slave" was essentially a human guinea pig, forced to ingest lethal concoctions to test their effects. It was a slow, agonizing death, far worse than being left to the wolves.
But he didn't protest. His face remained blank, his eyes devoid of emotion. He had survived the snow, he had survived Wang Er's brutality, and he had survived the fever. He would survive this too. His destiny, he knew, lay not in the gentle embrace of spiritual energy, but in the treacherous depths of poison and chaos.
As Hua Sui was led away, a chilling sense of irony settled upon him. He had sought the Scarlet Cloud Sect for a chance at life, only to find himself condemned to a fate worse than death. Yet, deep within his inverted meridians, the Grey Seed pulsed faintly, a silent, defiant beat against the world's injustice.
He was no longer just Hua Sui, the abandoned orphan. He was Hua Sui, the Pill Slave, the walking cauldron of toxins. And his withered years were just beginning.