The nights in the Darkveil Clan were always too quiet.For Arin, silence meant safety. There were no laughter, no murmurs among the people that he was cursed and no boys waiting to shove him in the dirt.But the silence was never empty. Because his mother was always there with him. Selene Darkveil was not the strongest cultivator, nor the most powerful. Her roots were modest and her cultivation only at the mid stages of Spirit Foundation. Yet to Arin, she was a fortress no wall could compare to.When others turned their backs, she turned toward him. When others mocked, she smiled at him.He remembered nights when she sat beside his bed, holding his hand until sleep took him.“Close your eyes, Arin,” she whispered. “Dream of a place where no one calls you cursed. Dream of the path you will one day walk.”And he did.When other children trained with swords, Selene gave him sticks and taught him how to hold them and how to balance his feet. Not because he could fight, but because she wa

The first punch drove the air from Arin’s lungs. His body slammed into the training yard’s dirt and ribs screamed in pain. Dust rose around him in a choking cloud, but the laughter of the other clan youths still cut through. It was sharp and cruel.“Trash.”“Can’t even take one hit.”“Why does the clan keep feeding him?”Kael stood above him. His fists burn faintly with ember light. His smirk curved cruelly.“You embarrassed me today,” Kael said. “So I’ll carve that shame into your bones.”His boot crashed into Arin’s side. Pain ripped through him. Arin coughed blood, the copper taste flooding his mouth.The world blurred at the edges. His body screamed to surrender. To curl up and stay down. or better still, just vanish.But his heart… his heart refused.‘No. Not like this. Not on the ground.’Kael dragged him up by his collar and drove a fist into his stomach.Something cracked. Arin gasped, bile and blood spilled from his lips.Another blow snapped across his face. His vision went

The torches burned bright in the night wind.Hunters stood tall in their beast-leather armor, scarred and confident. Their weapons gleamed beneath the moon. Clan youths of which Kael was among them grinned, puffed their chests, and spoke of glory as if it were already theirs.“Tonight, we must return with blood on our blades,” Kael declared with fire sparking faintly at his fingertips. “Let the beast learn who the Darkveil are.”The crowd cheered.Arin, however, lingered at the edge of the gathering.He wasn’t called. He wasn’t invited. No one expected the cripple to step forward. But when the volunteers marched into the forest, Arin slipped behind them. He was as silent as night. The scrap of his mother’s cloth tied around his wrist.His heart pounded. The system had chimed before he left.“Ding! Special Quest Generated.Objective: Witness a Spirit Beast Hunt. Optional: Land a killing strike.Reward: Reputation +10, Meridian Repair FragmentPenalty: –3 years lifespan.”Arin couldn’t

The wilderness was merciless.Arin stumbled through a tangle of thorn-bushes. His breath ragged and his ribs ached from another close encounter. His clothes were torn and streaked with blood. The moon hung cold above him. Silver light poured over a land teeming with beasts.Every direction was like death itself Yet, the system would not let him stop.“Ding! Survival Quest Update.Objective: Endure wilderness trial, Shelter, food, water secured within 24 hours.Time Remaining: 2 hours, 17 minutes.Penalty: –10 years lifespan.”Arin’s pulse hammered. He had secured water from a muddy stream, but food and shelter? He had seen nothing. His stomach clawed at itself in hunger.If he failed and if the timer struck zero, he would lose years of his life in an instant.He staggered onward. Growls echoed in the distance. Every rustle of leaves whispered in the darkness. “Is this how they expect me to die?” he muttered, clutching his mother’s cloth at his wrist.The night deepened, getting cold

The tournament grounds shook with the roar of the crowd. Sunlight was bright across the martial arena. It glinted off already clean weapons and the gilded through thrones where the clan elders sat in judgment.Youth after youth clashed upon the sand. Each duel was a combat of qi and sword. Cheers rose when fire erupted and when blades hit one another.Arin stood silent at the edges, cloak drawn, watching. His turn had not yet come, but people talked about him wherever he went.“That’s him, the exile.”“He dares fight in the tournament?”“Maybe he’ll collapse before he even takes a stance.”They sneered. But their voices trembled faintly now, for some had already seen his controlled strikes in the early rounds where he dispatched opponents without wasted movement.Arin never revealed the full breadth of his strength. Yet each clash carried a weight that made the crowd gasp in shock. His fists struck like dragons hidden in mist and his footwork impossibly fluid for a boy once branded cr