The moon hung high in the vast, star-speckled sky, casting a gentle silver glow upon the quiet village nestled deep within the Jade Forest. A crisp breeze carried the scent of blooming plum blossoms, rustling through the wooden homes and lantern-lit streets. It was a night of celebration, for within the Ren household, a new life had come into the world.
Inside a modest yet well-kept home, the cries of a newborn echoed softly, filling the air with warmth and joy. A woman, her face pale from labor yet radiant with happiness, cradled the tiny child in her arms. Her long, dark hair was damp with sweat, sticking to her face, but her soft brown eyes glowed with love as she gazed at her son.
"Ren," she whispered, her voice filled with affection. "Our little Ren has finally arrived."
Beside her, a tall and broad-shouldered man stood, his weathered face softened by an emotional smile. His name was Ren Liang, a respected hunter in the village, and the woman in his arms was his wife, Liu Mei. Despite his rough exterior, his hands trembled slightly as he reached out to stroke the soft, delicate cheek of his newborn son.
"He is perfect, Mei," Liang said, his deep voice laced with pride. "A strong cry, a healthy body—our son will grow to be a great man."
At the foot of the bed, a small girl with big, round eyes and dark hair tied into twin buns peered over the edge, her tiny hands gripping the wooden frame. She was Ren Yan, five years old, and now an older sister. She giggled in delight, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Mama, can I hold him? Please?" Yan asked, bouncing eagerly.
Mei chuckled softly, exhaustion evident in her voice. "Carefully, my love." She guided Yan’s small hands, allowing her to gently touch the baby’s tiny fingers. Ren instinctively curled his hand around his sister’s finger, making her gasp in delight.
"He likes me!" Yan squealed, her face lighting up with joy.
The village soon erupted in celebration. News of the successful birth spread like wildfire, and before dawn, the Ren household was filled with cheerful villagers bringing gifts—freshly woven blankets, wooden toys, medicinal herbs, and baskets of fruit. The village elder, an elderly man with a long white beard, raised a cup of rice wine.
"A strong child is a blessing to the village! May little Ren bring honor and fortune to his family!" he declared, and the villagers cheered in unison.
### The Early Years
The years passed swiftly, and Ren grew under the doting care of his family. His mother, Mei, spent endless hours singing lullabies and weaving warm clothes for him. His father, Liang, would carry him on his shoulders through the forest, pointing out different beasts and plants. And Yan, the ever-energetic sister, took it upon herself to teach Ren everything she knew, from how to catch fish in the stream to the best hiding spots in the village.
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At one year old, Ren spoke his first words. "Mama. Papa."
The joy that erupted in the Ren household was immeasurable. Mei wept with happiness, and Liang proudly lifted his son into the air, declaring that Ren would become a great man one day. Yan pouted, crossing her arms.
"Hmph! What about me? Say ‘sister!’" she demanded, poking Ren’s chubby cheek.
Ren blinked at her, then giggled. "Si…sister!"
Yan’s eyes widened in triumph, and from that day on, she declared herself Ren’s protector and teacher.
By the age of three, Ren had begun to show his personality—curious, determined, and filled with an unshakable warmth that made people around him adore him. He loved to chase after butterflies, listen to his father’s hunting stories, and play with the wooden sword his uncle had carved for him.
By five, he could run through the fields without stumbling and had an endless thirst for adventure. He would often sit on his father’s lap, listening to tales of powerful warriors and sword masters,eyes wide with wonder.
And finally, at six years old, Ren stood at the threshold of his next stage in life. His father had promised to start training him in the basics of swordsmanship, and his mother had begun teaching him the art of calligraphy and reading. The future awaited him, vast and unknown.
Yet, on the eve of his sixth birthday, as he gazed at the starlit sky, he felt something stir deep within him—an unexplainable feeling, as if destiny itself was watching over him, waiting for the path he w
ould walk.
And so, the story of Ren began.
Ren sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his home, his father kneeling before him with a solemn expression. The warm glow of lanterns flickered in the dim room as the scent of burning incense filled the air. His father, Shen Liang, took a deep breath and spoke.
"Ren, the world is vast, filled with warriors and cultivators who seek strength beyond mortal limits. In the path of cultivation, there are ten levels, from the weakest at Level 9 to the strongest at Level 0. Most people never rise beyond Level 7 or 6. In my lifetime, I have never even seen a Level 5 cultivator. They are rare, like dragons among men."
Ren listened intently, his young eyes wide with curiosity. Shen Liang's gaze sharpened as he continued. "I, myself, have reached Level 8. Your mother..." He hesitated, then straightened his back with pride. "Your mother, too, is at Level 8."
Unbeknownst to him, Ren's mother, XueLian, stood in the doorway, a gentle smirk gracing her lips. In truth, she had already reached Level 7, stronger than her husband, but she let him have his pride. She stepped forward and ruffled Ren’s hair. "Cultivation is not just about power. It is a way of life, a discipline of the body and mind."
Shen Liang nodded. "For now, we will begin with Level 9 training. This stage is about strengthening your body. Before you can wield Qi, your foundation must be solid. Physical strength, endurance, and resilience—these will be your focus."
And so, Ren’s training began.
The mornings were grueling. His father had him run up the mountain paths with weights tied to his legs, lifting heavy stones, and practicing basic sword swings until his arms felt like lead. Every evening, he would soak in a medicinal bath, prepared with rare herbs his mother gathered, to soothe his aching muscles.
Xue Lian took a different approach to his training. She led him deep into the forest, teaching him about the deadly world of poisonous plants. "Ren, understanding poison is just as important as understanding the sword. A warrior who underestimates nature is doomed."
She showed him how to identify venomous herbs, how to counteract poisons, and even how to extract toxins for use in combat. Unlike the brutal physical training with his father, his mother’s lessons required patience, precision, and an analytical mind. Surprisingly, Ren excelled at this, grasping the knowledge quickly. XueLian beamed with pride.
His sister, Shen Mei, often trained alongside him. At only nine years old, she was already at the peak of Level 9, far ahead of him. Despite her natural talent, she was never condescending. Instead, she guided him with patience, correcting his stances and encouraging him when he struggled.
"You're getting better, Ren," she said one afternoon as they sparred with wooden swords. "But don’t overthink every move. Let your body remember the flow."
Ren gritted his teeth and swung his wooden sword. Shen Mei dodged effortlessly, tapping his shoulder with the tip of her blade. He groaned, but she only laughed and helped him up.
Three years passed in a blur of sweat, pain, and perseverance. At the age of nine, Ren finally broke through to Level 9, his body hardened and his mind sharpened. His parents beamed with pride, and the village erupted in celebration.
As the evening sky burned with the colors of twilight, Ren stood atop a hill, gazing at the horizon. His journey had only just begun, but he felt it in his bones—this was just the first step toward something far greater.
