2025-09-14 15:22:17The yard was silent when dawn came across the Darkveil compound.
Children still slept in their quarters. Elders had not yet begun their morning routines.
Only Arin moved.
His body ached from the beating. His ribs were still tender, bruises painted his skin in ugly red stains.
As the first light broke, the familiar cold chime echoed inside his skull.
“Ding! Daily Quests Generated.
First: Perform 200 basic strikes. Reward: +0.5 Strength. Penalty: –1 year lifespan.
Two: Practice meridian breathing for 30 minutes. Reward: +1 Qi Sensitivity. Penalty: –1 year lifespan.
Three: Survive one confrontation. Reward: Minor Stamina Recovery. Penalty: –2 years lifespan.”
Arin’s eyes widened at the last line. ‘I must survive one confrontation?’
It didn’t say win. It didn’t say defeat. Only survive.
The system wasn’t merciful. But it wasn’t entirely cruel either.
Still… if he ignored them, he said would lose years of his life.
And he had only seventeen.
He began his practice in the corner of the clan’s abandoned storehouse, where no one usually came.
Each strike rattled his bones. Each breath felt like knives inside his chest. But with every blow, the system chimed faintly, recording and counting.
“Fifty… one hundred… one hundred and fifty…”
By the time he reached two hundred, sweat soaked his thin robe. His hands were blistered and his skin raw.
“Ding! Quest Completed.
+0.5 Strength acquired.”
A warmth spread through his muscles. His fists clenched tighter and steadier. His arms no longer trembled quite as much.
He sat cross-legged. The scrap of cloth from his mother tied around his wrist, and he tried to guide his breath through broken pathways.
His chest rose, fell and rose again.
At first, he felt extreme pain. Qi refused him of its use.
But the system’s harsh words guided him, “Adjust diaphragm. Focus on dantian. Ignore outer flow and build inner circulation.”
And slowly, so faintly he thought he imagined it. A thread of warmth trickled into his meridians.
The fragment pulsed, knitting broken channels by a hair’s breadth.
“Ding! Quest Completed.
+1 Qi Sensitivity acquired.”
Arin opened his eyes but he couldn't really see anything because of the tears of joy that was forcing itself out. Arin had felt the real qi for the first time since he was born.
The final quest came that afternoon.
Two boys blocked his path near the water well. One of them was stronger and older than him. The same one was the boy who had shoved him into mud as a child.
“Well, if it isn’t the clan’s curse,” one jeered.
“Do you think you can just walk here like you belong?”
Arin’s stomach clenched. His instinct screamed to lower his head, to flee and to take the blows and hide.
But the system chimed coldly.
“Quest Timer: 60 seconds remaining.”
If he didn’t face them, he would lose years of life. He swallowed really hard.
When the first boy lunged, Arin remembered the training from his morning practice.
He pivoted left and he countered with an elbow. He didn't block head-on. His body moved awkwardly, stiff, but guided.
The bully’s punch sailed past. Arin’s elbow cracked into his ribs. The boy yelped, stumbling back.
Shock froze the second boy. Arin didn’t hesitate. He ducked low, swept his leg, and the boy crashed into the dirt.
There was a long silence. The system chimed at once.
“Ding! The quest has been completed.
Reward: Minor Stamina Recovery.”
A rush of warmth filled his weary limbs.
Arin stood. His chest heaving, staring at the two bullies sprawled in the dirt.
For the first time in his life… he won a real fight.
That night, when the moon hung heavy across the sky. The system displayed a new quest.
“New Skill Trial Available: Dragon Vein Fist, Level 1.
The host is required to practice 100 repetitions under exhaustion state.
Reward: Unlock skill framework.”
Arin’s eyes widened in shock. Dragon Vein Fist was a technique talked about in clan tales. It was a style meant to channel qi through the body and bone like a dragon’s flow. It was impossible for someone with crippled meridians to achieve that.
But the system had given him a path.
He began training. Each punch was clumsy and awkward. His balance slipped and his breath hitched.
But as the night dragged on, a path began to emerge. His fist no longer struck the air blindly.
By the hundredth strike, sweat poured from his face. His arms trembled but the system chimed.
“Ding! Dragon Vein Fist Framework unlocked.”
Arin collapsed onto the dirt through exhaustion.
His body was still frail. But his fists now carried a better striking opportunity.
The next day, murmurs spread about Arin through the clan.
“I swear I saw him move differently.”
“Like a… like a dragon’s shadow.”
“That’s Impossible. He’s trash.”
Arin pretended not to hear, but inside, his chest swelled.
They were already noticing him.
Kael had noticed too but he remembered just let Arin go that night.
He cornered the same bullies Arin had beaten and demanded answers.
“You lost to him?” His eyes narrowed as flames gathered at his fingertips.
“He moved weirdly!” one boy stammered. “It was like a dragon coiling!”
Kael’s lip curled. Anger burned behind his eyes.
“That cripple dares to crawl from the dirt?”
The Second Elder, Kael’s father. His gaze lingered on Arin as he trained in secret, with his fists striking and sweat falling.
His eyes gleamed with a mix of suspicion… and fear.
A cripple who began to rise was more dangerous than a genius.
That evening, the clan’s hunters returned with grim faces. A spirit beast had appeared near the outskirts endangering the clan’s hunting routes.
A meeting was called and the peo
ple that attended came with torches.
“We need volunteers,” the lead hunter announced. “Even the young must step forward. The beast threatens us all.”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
And then came a cruel demand that spread like fire.
“Send the cripple.”
“Yes… send Arin. Let him be the food of the beast.”
All eyes turned toward him. Arin’s fists clenched. His heart thundered.
The system’s cold chime echoed in his ears.
“New Quest Incoming.”
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Seventy-one hour war
Arin felt the Dragon Vein thrumming louder, not from defiance now but from recognition; the vein had found the tunnel’s old wards and answered them, and the resonance in his chest promised one more thing — a way through that was not wholly escape: a path to return.He stepped forward and met the Elder’s gaze. “You think yourselves saviors,” he said. “But your hands are just the same as the ones that once broke our doors open to steal grain and name.”The Elder laughed, a cold rasp. He gestured, and the courtyard filled with a shimmering lattice — not the Temple’s gold but the clan’s own binding marks, centuries-old magics reforged into instruments of control. “Then be bound as we see fit.”Arin’s body turned into motion. He didn’t plan a fight — he made one. It was not for trophies but for breaths. He caught the first binding thread in his palm and let the resonance shiver through it, then folded that power and flung it outward. The thread burned like paper and snapped. The Elder’s ey
Darkveil defiance
Arin didn’t wait for the envoy’s final decree. The courtyard was a pressure cooker of fear and fury; if he hesitated the Second Elder’s purge would swallow more than pride. He scanned the faces — some broken, some feverish with triumph — and made a decision that surprised no one who had ever watched him choose a blade over a bargain.“Scatter!” he barked, voice like iron. The command carried, because people still heard what they feared and what they loved in him.Lyra slid beside him, frost singing along her blade. “We hold them back. You get the innocents to safety,” she said, already moving like someone who didn’t like to ask permission.Arin’s palm met the earth. The Dragon Vein answered, a low hum under the skin of the world: a map not of roads but of old places where walls were thin and secrets older than the clan slept. Golden scales crawled across his forearms. When he moved they left brief afterimages, like burned calligraphy in the air.A shout rose — the Second Elder himself
War with the Darkveil soul
The wind blows with a lighting of situations, everyone got set for the show of the night. The clan ground that was once thrummed with celebration now lay uneasy and silent. There above the rooftop, gather much heavens themselves who are ready to witness the event.“ They have thought evil against me. Even the Darkveil which seems to be my path.” Arin who had sat with his legs crossed on a cold stone overlooking the courtyard.Then comes the faint blue light of the system which hovered before him, pulsing like a heartbeat. Incoming Events: Stormfang Clan Retaliation: within 72 hours. Heavenly Temple Summons: active for 7 days. Optional Directive: Survive both encounters. Reward: Path Advancement Spirit Core Ignition.He exhaled slowly. “Seventy-two hours,” he murmured. “So the storm comes early.”Behind him, footsteps approached—soft, deliberate.“Still here?” Lyra’s voice was quiet but carried a weight of concern. Her silver-lined robes swayed with the wind, and her dark hair
Duel & Thrones Cracking
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
Return & Tournament Omen
The wind howled across the barren ridge as two figures made their way along the frozen path.Arin walked with steady strides now. He was no longer the broken youth who had left his clan’s gates in humiliation. His qi flowed smoother and his meridians no longer felt like chains of fire tearing through his flesh. Instead, his body pulsed with faint power, subtle and yet undeniable.Beside him walked Lyra Frostwind. Her pale cloak fluttered like a shard. She said little, but every so often her icy gaze drifted toward him, as if measuring the changes in his stance and the growing strength in his aura.The wilderness had carved him anew.Days bled into nights. Their journey toward civilization became a crucible.At dawn, Arin drilled Dragon Vein Fist until his knuckles split. The system chimed relentlessly, issuing quests that rebuilt him.“Ding! Daily Training Quest: Perform 500 Dragon Vein Strikes.Reward: Dragon Vein Fist Proficiency +5%.Penalty: –2 years lifespan if failed.”His arms
Wilderness and Lyra
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
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