The Legend Of A Mortal god
AUTHOR: Hey there! This chapter is an extended part of the synopsis, providing a more detailed account of the main character's childhood experiences. If you're in a hurry, feel free to skip it, but I highly recommend reading it to get a better understanding of the story.
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As rain trickled through the rotting roof, a fragile structure made of patched wood and cloth, stood on the outskirts of the city where few cared to look.
For Li Cheng and his mother, this was all they had.
Years ago, they had lived in comfort of a proper household. But all that changed the day his father, Li Qiang, cast them out like discarded shoes. With cold eyes and a heart hardened by ambition.
His mother held his hand tightly as they stood outside the gates of a house they could no longer call home.
Li Cheng was just a child, too small to face the challenges life had in store for him. He followed his mother through the winding alleys and narrow streets of the city, holding her hand and never knowing where they might sleep next.
Since then, they had wandered, finding shelter in alleys, sleeping under temple eaves, and relying on the kindness of strangers that rarely came by. Eventually, they found a crumbling shack far from the city center and called it home.
Li Cheng's father had remarried a woman named Yang Xin and soon had a son, Li Yuen. In an instant, Li Cheng and his mother became little more than his past.
Li Cheng grew up hungry and dirty. His mother worked hard, stitching embroidery by candlelight. Her fingers were sore from endless needle pricks. Yet, her work barely earned enough coins for stale rice and scraps of vegetables. Some nights, she pretended not to be hungry so Li Cheng could eat.
While other children his age attended school and learned to read and write, Li Cheng carried heavy buckets of water or swept market stalls for a few copper. He wore oversized, second-hand clothes and shoes with patched soles, repaired by his mother's skillful hand.
Life was hard not just because of poverty. It was also about how people treated him.
In the market streets, whispers followed him like a shadow.
"isn't that Li Qiang's discarded son."
"Look at him, dirty thing...What future could he have?"
"A waste of space."
"You will never be anything," they told him.
"You don't even have a spiritual root for cultivation, You're just trash."
In a world where cultivation determined a person's value, being unable to cultivate was worse than being poor. It meant being invisible, powerless, and disrespected.
TEN YEARS LATER
As time went by, the child who once cried in silence became a quiet, determined boy. Ten years had made him lean, toughened his spirit, and marked his hands with calluses from endless work. He did errands, carried goods, and cleaned shops—anything that brought in money. The world showed no kindness, and people were rarely gentle.
