Among the five continents of the world, four stand as dominant realms: the East Continent, South Continent, West Continent, and North Continent.

Yet above them all lies the Zhongzhou Continent.

In this world governed by ancient forces and reincarnated souls, there exists nothing beyond the six cycles of reincarnation. All life is bound to them.

But it was only on Zhongzhou that a generation of holy magic masters once emerged who defied this eternal law.

They were unwilling to fall. Even more, they rejected the path of reincarnation entirely.

How long does it truly take to pass through heaven, earth, and hell?

This question echoes still.

There is one particularly prosperous region nestled within the central lands of the Five Continents. It is known simply as the Central Continent.

In the southern reaches of this continent lies a serene landscape of water towns, reminiscent of the historic elegance of Suzhou and Hangzhou. These towns glimmer with tranquil beauty, their canals weaving through willow-shaded streets.

Amidst this tranquility is a place whispered of in awe and dread alike: Soul Village.

Here resides the Fan family, a household revered as the cradle where holy magic masters are born anew.

Their lands conceal a place shrouded in secrecy and power, known intimately among magicians and sorcerers alike.

It is a lonely hillside, crowned by a peak that bears a chilling name.

Ghost Cliff.

A stone thrown from its edge takes more than ten heartbeats before the sound of its descent echoes back.

The rumbling rolls deep through the ravine below.

Ghost Cliff rises so high that rocks vanish into mist before striking the valley floor.

The fall resembles a descent through the eighteen levels of hell, each one darker and more suffocating than the last. It is said to be a place where the underworld breathes.

A young man stood at its edge.

He wore a simple white robe that clung to his figure as the icy mountain winds battered his body. The gusts roared past him, trying to topple him, but he remained unmoving.

Upon his chest gleamed a large symbol embroidered in deep gold: the word "Fan", the mark of his lineage.

That white robe signified that he was not of the pure line, but rather an illegitimate disciple of the Fan family.

His name was Fan Da.

He had turned nineteen this year.

From the moment of his birth, he was a prodigy. Even among the outer disciples, he had always ranked first, rising swiftly like a sword unsheathed. His strength, talent, and composure earned him a rare title.

For a time, the outer sect reverently called him "Young Master".

He had earned the number one spot in the rankings.

Naturally, among the inner sect, this ignited tension.

When the Fan family was first founded, its structure was divided into two sects: the inner and the outer.

The outer sect existed to grant soul power and martial spirits to those not of direct bloodline. They were chosen, trained, and empowered, but never fully embraced.

The inner sect, however, consisted solely of the Fan family's blood descendants. They were bound to the legacy of the holy magic master himself, inheriting his blood, soul, and mystical inheritance.

Fan Da stood now as the outer sect's symbol of pride. Though not born of the direct bloodline, he had surpassed nearly all.

He stood there with a tumultuous expression. His face flickered between laughter and tears, a storm of emotions swirling inside him.

No matter how hard he tried to contain it, the excitement in his heart overflowed.

Nineteen years.

Nineteen long years had passed since the day he was brought into the Fan family by an outer sect guardian, still swaddled in cloth.

He had grown within this house. The Fan family was his cradle and his cage.

Every Horcrux that bore the Fan family’s seal had, at one time or another, been touched by him.

But suddenly, his expression shifted. A somber shadow clouded his gaze. Then, slowly, he relaxed, revealing a bitter smile, heavy with resignation.

He muttered to himself.

"In this life, what is destined will always come, no matter how I try to avoid it."

In the distance, thirty-six figures surged up the mountainside, snow-white robes trailing like stardust behind them. Their formation was precise, moving in perfect unison as they leapt upward with unfathomable speed.

They were the elders of the Fan family.

The youngest among them was no older than fifty. All bore solemn expressions. Their long robes, stitched with the ancient golden word "Fan", signified their positions as inner disciples and clan elders.

These thirty-six were not merely high-ranking members. They represented the pillars of the family’s soul cultivation.

Among them was the family patriarch, the revered Old Master Fan.

Together, they had ascended the mountain. Thirty-six elders. Every living patriarch had come.

This was no ordinary gathering. It was a declaration.

The Fan family had been shaken.

Even the elder who had long surpassed a century and stood at the threshold of death had answered the call. He was one hundred and twenty years old, a figure spoken of in awe.

Each elder had mastered their martial soul and soul power to the point of perfection.

Within moments, they arrived at the peak of the cliff.

Below them, disciples from the outer sect knelt in reverence, their foreheads pressed to the ground as the inner elders passed.

Fan Da remained still. He stood, facing the edge, not turning to acknowledge their presence.

Behind him, only the abyss of Ghost Cliff yawned wide.

Before him, the flames of three fire lotuses hovered in the air.

He lowered them gently onto the ground, then allowed his gaze to linger on them.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Hehehe..."

At last, he had done it.

He had successfully cultivated his soul power and martial spirit to the absolute peak.

He had honed them since childhood, pouring years of effort into each refinement. Now, after ten relentless years, he had achieved mastery over every soul weapon within the Fan family’s domain.

His dream had been fulfilled.

No words could describe this feeling.

In that moment, Fan Da felt as though nothing else mattered. He had violated the family’s rules, and now he would face the consequences. Whether his soul was wounded or destroyed, he would not run.

Before him, the three fire lotuses flickered. Their flame was no ordinary heat. It sparked with a power that trembled through the air.

They belonged to him.

This was the Fire Lotus.

A sentient Horcrux.

It was known as the most tyrannical, overwhelming Horcrux in the entire Five Continents.

And it had been born in his own hands.

How could such a soul weapon, feared and revered, have been tainted?

Fan Da’s breath quickened.

"I know stealing the inner sect’s martial spirit is a crime beyond redemption."

"It is forbidden by the laws of our family."

"Yet I swear, on the heavens themselves, I never stole the sect’s martial techniques. I did not leak them to the outer sect."

"I say this not to beg forgiveness."

"I simply want the elders to know that Fan Da has never abandoned his roots."

"Never once. Not before. Not now. Not ever."

His voice trembled slightly, but his tone remained steady.

A stillness fell over the mountain. Even the wind seemed to pause.

He turned to glance at the Fan family estate nestled below the cliff, ancient pavilions stretching across the mountainside, surrounded by towering trees and rising mist.

The scent of incense and spirit herbs lingered faintly in the air.

Fan Da’s eyes glistened.

Ever since he could remember, everything he had done had been for this family.

Now, he would give them one final offering.

The elders still said nothing. The Fire Lotus had not yet erupted, and no one dared to act.

Six hundred years.

Not once in six centuries had the Fire Lotus appeared.

Now, it had manifested in the hands of an outer disciple.

What did this signify?

A soul weapon so powerful that even inner sect disciples failed to awaken it.

This meant a new peak of soul power had arrived.

The elders glanced at one another, their eyes heavy with unspoken thoughts.

No one spoke.

Fan Da’s laughter rang out again.

"Hehehe..."

"Everything I have came from the Fan family. My soul, my bones, my power, even my very breath. All of it was given by this house."

"And no matter what, I am part of it. Even when I die, my soul will remain Fan."

"I know the elders will not allow an outer disciple who broke the rules to remain in the family’s records."

"In that case, let my soul bones rest beneath Ghost Cliff."

"Let them be buried in the heart of the Five Continents."

His voice was light, filled with an eerie calm.

That voice roused the elders.

As they looked up, they saw a mist of soul energy blooming from his body, white as snow and dense like fog.

"I never received the soul blood of the Holy Demon Master. I never stole your techniques."

Fan Da whispered.

A deafening explosion cracked through the air.

All the elders retreated at once, prepared to counter an eruption.

But what they witnessed stunned them.

Fan Da’s body held no martial soul.

No soul power.

He was empty.

A hushed silence settled.

Then he laughed, bright and clear.

"Respected elders, I came into this family with nothing. And now I leave with nothing."

"The Fire Lotus is my final gift to the Fan family."

"No one else can take what belongs to us."

"The soul weapon's essence is beneath the first brick of my chamber door."

"I have returned everything to where it belongs."

"Ha ha ha ha..."

He raised his head and laughed skyward.

Then, in a single breath, he stepped back.

The elders felt their hearts lurch, but not one moved.

That soul energy enveloping him thickened until his entire form shimmered.

With the swiftness of lightning, Fan Da turned.

And leapt into the void behind him.

Ghost Cliff swallowed him whole.