An eerie smile spread across his face.

  If the heavens wouldn't open a door, he would carve one out with a blade.

  Five years passed.

  By twenty, Han Tianyi had become the iron pillar of the Han Clan.

  Under his plan, the clan’s resources doubled.

  He deciphered lost scriptures, reviving techniques that turned the Han disciples into a terrifying force.

  Neighboring realms spoke his name with a mix of awe and dread.

  To the world, he was the Peerless Strategist.

  To himself, he was a farmer fattening the cattle for slaughter.

  By then, no one dared question him.

  And so, he moved.

  In the dead of night, a secret message reached the Yu Clan: "I will give you the Han Clan. In exchange, I want your ancient scriptures."

  The Yu Clan didn't hesitate.

  They knew the story of the "Cursed Heir" and the "Abandoned Son." Why would they fear a deal with a mortal? To them, he was a tool they could crush the moment the job was done.

  When their agreement arrived, Tianyi’s laughter shattered the silence of his study.

  "Kahahaha! Fools! Idiots!"

  He gripped the message, his eyes gleaming with a cold, jagged madness.

  "Father... Mother... little brother... don't resent me too much."

  He smiled—a smile twisted enough to make even himself feel unfamiliar.

  "You shouldn't have given birth to something the heavens rejected."

  For the next few months, Han Tianyi lived a double life.

  By day, he was the brilliant strategist. By night, he was a traitor.

  He sent the Yu Clan everything they needed to destroy his home: the patrol schedules, the secret weaknesses in the Han Clan's techniques, and the exact spots where their secluded domain defenses were thinnest.

  Piece by piece, he handed them the keys to his own family’s slaughter.

  In return, the Yu Clan sent him what he craved—ancient, dusty scriptures.

  At first, the texts were broken and hard to read.

  But with every secret he sold, the books they sent back grew older and more forbidden.

  Han Tianyi’s hands shook every time he touched them, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

  Then came the final trade.

  The last piece of information he gave was the most heartless: a way to assassinate his parents.

  In exchange, the Yu Clan sent a single item.

  It was a book bound in dried human skin.

  When Han Tianyi touched the cover, it felt cold, yet it had a strange, faint warmth—as if the skin still remembered being alive.

  Dark symbols crawled across the leather like living scars.

  The moment he held it, his heart thundered against his ribs.

  “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IT’S FINALLY HERE!!!!!!”

  His laugh rang out through the empty room, sounding more like a predator than a human.

  He didn't care about the clan.

  He didn't care about his parents.

  He finally had the key.

  That night, Han Tianyi didn't sleep.

  He moved through his room, packing only the essentials.

  He stuffed massive amounts of spiritual stones into several storage rings—enough wealth to live like a king for a hundred lifetimes in the mortal world.

  At dawn, he went to the main hall to see his parents one last time.

  "Father... Mother..." He kept his head low, making his voice sound heavy with fake sorrow. "I've been thinking. I'm probably better off in the mortal world."

  His parents looked at him, surprised by the sudden change.

  "I'm already twenty-one. I only have maybe eighty years left," he said, forcing a bitter smile onto his face. "I want to see the world while I still can. Before I just... turn to dust."

  The hall was silent for a moment.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Then, Han Feiyu stood up and laughed. He walked over and slapped a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  "Hohoho! Of course, my son! If that’s what you want, then go—live freely!"

  He pressed a small spatial pouch into Tianyi’s hand. It was stuffed with gold coins.

  "Take this. Even if you tried to buy the entire mortal world, you wouldn't be able to empty this bag."

  Han Tianyi bowed deeply, hiding the cold, crazy glint in his eyes.

  A few hours later, the clan elders gathered to open the dimensional gate.

  The air groaned as a bright white crack tore open in the middle of the hall, glowing with power.

  Han Tianyi stepped toward the rift.

  Behind him was the family he had just sold to their enemies.

  In front of him was his future.

  And hidden inside his ring was that book made of human skin, waiting to be opened.

  When he stepped through the rift, the air changed instantly.

  The heavy, crushing pressure of the Immortal Realm was gone. In its place was the thin, weak air of the mortal world.

  There was no spiritual energy here—none of the power cultivators used to reach the heavens.

  Only Qi existed here—the crude internal energy of martial artists.

  To even the collateral family of Han Clan, this place was a wasteland, but to Han Tianyi, the silence felt right.

  He found a quiet area far from any bustling cities.

  He bought a plain estate with simple walls and a wooden gate. The courtyard was wide enough for a vegetable garden, and the house was just right for a man who wanted to be forgotten.

  To keep up appearances, he hired five servants to handle the cooking and cleaning.

  He also hired two bodyguards—martial artists who were considered "peak experts" in this world, capable of using their Qi to kill a hundred men with their bare hands.

  He spent a few days filling the house with clothes, furniture, and medicine cabinets.

  Only when every room was ready did he finally lock the gate and retreat into his study.

  Under the dim light of a single lamp, he pulled out the skin-bound book.

  The pages felt rough and cold, but there was that creepy, living warmth again.

  Symbols squirmed across the paper like shadows.

  He read through forbidden rituals—methods to twist fate and turn a body rejected by the heavens into a weapon.

  He reached the very last page, and his eyes stopped.

  Cursed Body Constitution.

  A slow, dark smile spread across his face.

  "Hm... so I need to refine ten heaven-defying talents just to become a normal person?"

  A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Hehe... alright. That's worth a shot."

  But then his brows knit together. He looked at his hands. They couldn't hold a single drop of spiritual energy, and to make matters worse, he couldn't even gather the weak Qi of a mortal.

  "Wait. How am I supposed to refine anyone if I can't even cultivate?"

  He clenched his fist, a flash of annoyance in his eyes.

  "...How troublesome."

  ---

  He soon made his way to the Black Market Pavilion—a hole in the wall where information was traded like livestock.

  In this place, there were no morals, only prices.

  Inside a cramped, smoke-filled room, he met an informant. The man was a hunched old wreck with yellow teeth and eyes that practically glowed with greed.

  “I need a list,” Han Tianyi said, his voice calm. “People who can refine anything and won't ask questions. Money isn't an issue.”

  The old man’s eyes widened.

  “Hehehe… young master, you’ve come to the right place.”

  He slid a piece of parchment across the counter. Han Tianyi skimmed it.

  “Can you contact them? I don’t care about the price. I need ten successful refinements, and I'll pay for each one.”

  Tianyi had dressed for the occasion: expensive silk robes, jade ornaments, and a spatial pouch stitched with gold thread. He looked exactly like the spoiled heir of a great immortal clan.

  It wasn't ego; it was survival.

  If he walked into a place like this looking poor while talking about big money, he’d be dead before he hit the end of the street.

  He was a mortal who couldn't cultivate; he knew his own weakness.

  The informant’s gaze lingered on Tianyi’s rings and belt.

  'Expensive... very expensive. This brat must have an Immortal clan behind him. Better not offend him.'

  The old man bowed, his smile widening.

  “Of course, young master. We’ll reach out to them immediately. Come back in one week.”

  No one in the black market was stupid enough to provoke someone backed by an Immortal Clan. One mistake could get your whole organization erased over a single spoiled kid.

  Han Tianyi nodded.

  “How much?”

  The old man’s grin turned predatory. He couldn't rob the boy, but he could certainly extort him.

  “Hehehe… that’ll be one hundred gold coins, young master. Including the ‘manpower’ fee.”

  The standard price was ten.

  Han Tianyi didn't even blink. He pulled out a heavy pouch and tossed it onto the table. It landed with a loud, metallic thud.

  Inside were five hundred gold coins.

  “Do it right,” Tianyi said coldly, “and I won't be stingy.”

  He turned and walked out without looking back.

  The old man stared at the pouch in stunned silence. Five hundred gold coins was enough to feed a mortal family for three generations, and this kid had thrown it like it was pocket change.

  “…He really is from a great clan,” the informant muttered.

  Han Tianyi understood the game.

  Strength wasn't always necessary. The appearance of it was enough.

  And what did powerful people always have?

  Money.

  To him, five hundred gold was nothing.

  His father had given him a mountain of wealth, and he would gladly trade every coin for his life and his revenge.

  Once he started cultivating, this gold would be nothing more than dust.

  As Han Tianyi stepped out of the Black Market Pavilion, his two bodyguards immediately moved to his side and bowed.

  He had bought their loyalty with cold, hard coin. It was a necessity.

  In this world, he was nothing.

  No matter how sharp his mind or how many combat techniques he had memorized, he lacked even the thinnest trace of Qi that an ordinary mortal possessed.

  His physical strength was pitiful—no different from a ten-year-old child, despite being past twenty years old.

  He knew better than to be reckless. What was the point of hiring protection if he didn't use it?

  Without wasting a second, the three of them headed straight back to his estate.

  He didn't look back; he had no interest in the sights of the mortal streets. Every moment spent outside was a moment his life was at risk.

  Once the gates of his manor swung shut and the bolts were thrown, he finally felt a sliver of safety.

  ---

  For the next seven days, Han Tianyi never stepped foot outside his gate.

  He spent those seven days studying the skin-bound scripture, memorizing every ritual written in blood-black ink.

  In this world, every open street was a battlefield he couldn't win. He knew he was a target for anyone looking to rob, kidnap, or silence a wealthy stranger.

  As a powerless mortal, his only real defense was to stay hidden.

  Exactly one week later, he returned to the Black Market Pavilion.

  The same ugly informant was waiting for him, but he wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a demonic cultivator at the qi gathering stage—the lowest rank of cultivator.

  'Hmm… a cultivator in the mortal realm?'

  Suspicion flickered in Tianyi’s eyes, but he wasn't in a position to be picky.

  He was already staking everything he had for this chance.

  The man reeked of blood and malice. Even a mortal could feel the cold, predatory pressure radiating from him.

  “This is a refinement master, young master,” the old man whispered, his eyes gleaming. “He’s perfect for your needs, though... he’s quite expensive.”

  Han Tianyi didn't flinch.

  “Money isn't a problem,” he said plainly.

  The demonic cultivator gave a shallow bow.

  “Then I will follow you, young master.”

  Once they reached the safety of the estate, the cultivator finally spoke.

  “I am Shen Tong.”

  Han Tianyi led him into the study, his expression unreadable. He didn't waste time with small talk.

  “Here is what I need,” Tianyi said calmly. “You are to refine humans into pills. Every time you succeed, I will pay you immediately. We will continue until you have given me ten successful refinements.”

  He let the silence hang in the air for a moment before continuing.

  “Since I still lack the necessary ‘ingredients,’ I will pay you fifty gold coins a day just to stay here. Consider it a retainer. Pick any room you like, just don't disturb me unless it's necessary.”

  With that, he left Shen Tong to the servants and stepped back into the shadows of his house.

  The trap was set. With every careful move, Han Tianyi was bending the mortal world to his will.

  ---

  A week earlier, Han Tianyi had already placed a monstrous commission with the city's most notorious assassination agency.

  He wanted one thing: ten blessed body constitutions.

  The price was absurd—ten thousand gold coins per head.

  He paid it without blinking.

  Two days later, the first "delivery" arrived at the dead of night.

  A masked man stood at the gate, clutching a child who couldn't have been more than seven years old. The boy was shaking, his eyes wide with terror.

  "This is the young master of the Luo Clan," the masked man said flatly. "They say he was born with a blessed constitution."

  Han Tianyi leaned in, inspecting the boy like a piece of rare jade. After a moment, he nodded. He tossed a heavy pouch of ten thousand gold coins to the assassin without even counting it.

  "Bring another," Tianyi said coldly. "As fast as you can."

  The assassin vanished into the dark.

  Tianyi turned his gaze back to the boy. He knew he was playing with fire. The Luo Clan was powerful; if they found so much as a footprint leading to this estate, his two bodyguards wouldn't be enough to save him.

  He had to move before the world woke up to the kidnapping.

  The boy struggled violently, his small fists pounding against Tianyi’s arm.

  “Let me go! My father will kill you!”

  Han Tianyi stared at him silently for a moment.

  Then he turned away.

  “Refine him.”

  The boy froze, his voice dropping to a whisper.

  "P-pill? Me? You monster! I'll haunt you as a vengeful spirit!"

  Han Tianyi did not answer.

  He looked at the 7-year-old boy for the last time. In those tear-filled, terrified eyes, he didn't see a stranger. He saw the weakling he used to be—the boy who cried in the library while his brother took his future.

  He wasn't killing a child.

  He was killing the last trace of weakness inside himself.

  "Today," he whispered, his voice as cold as the void, "I will discard the only thing I have left—my humanity."

  This was necessary. If he failed, he would remain a mortal forever.

  Without a word, Shen Tong snatched the child and threw him into his huge cauldron. The heavy bronze lid slammed shut with a sickening clang.

  Then, the screams started.

  The chamber filled with the sound of flesh and bone cooking under his spiritual fire. The boy's cries were sharp, then wet, then nothing but a low hiss of steam. Finally, there was only silence.

  The refinement was a success.

  Shen Tong stepped forward, offering a dark, steaming pill. It was still hot enough to singe the skin.

  Han Tianyi wiped the blood-stained steam from his sleeve.

  Then he swallowed the pill.

  His body lurched. A strange, oily warmth flooded his veins, soaking into his marrow.

  He let out a long, slow breath, feeling the heavens' rejection inside his bones begin to crack.

  "Only nine left..."

  A faint smile touched his lips.

  Shen Tong suddenly realized something terrifying.

  The person standing before him wasn't becoming a monster.

  He had always been one.