"Why?!"

A furious roar tore through the silence as Ethan Rivers snapped his eyes open.

His gaze burned with hatred deep as hell.

Ethan—illegitimate son of the Rivers family, Qingyun City. Born with unmatched talent. At eight, he connected with heavenly energy; at ten, opened his Dao Palace; at thirteen, awakened a ninth-grade human-class soul.

The entire city shook!

With a soul in the Dao Palace, one gains a Life Soul. And a warrior’s future rests on it.

Soul ranks go: Human, Earth, Heaven, Divine.

Ethan—Qingyun City's once-in-a-century genius.

Half a year ago, he joined Lingyun Sect, the largest sect within a thousand miles. A full disciple—youngest to become an alchemy apprentice.

His soul? A rare alchemy-type—Dragon Marked Violet Gold Cauldron. It made him a born alchemist.

Fifteen—and already the youngest apprentice alchemist.

A limitless future—or so it seemed.

Ten days ago, conned back home.

His Dao Palace shattered. Soul—ripped out.

His so-called father, Jackson Rivers, gouged out his ninth-grade human-class soul with his bare hands.

Right in front of him, Quentin Rivers—his brother—refined that soul, fused it, and surged in strength.

Ethan? Crushed dantian, broken body, lying in a pool of his own blood, barely alive.

Jackson and Quentin never even looked back.

When he woke again, it was inside a dark prison.

And above ground, word spread through Qingyun City:

Quentin Rivers, the legitimate heir, had scored a massive opportunity! His soul shot up to human-class ninth grade!

Quentin was hailed a prodigy.

Ethan? Forgotten. Abandoned. Left to rot.

The dungeon gate groaned open—

“Well, still breathing? Tough little bastard.”

A mocking voice rang out.

A well-dressed young man, twenty or so, strolled in with disdain in his eyes as he scanned Ethan.

Beside him, a cold-eyed man in his forties, thin frame, sharp face—expression twisted by cruelty.

Jackson Rivers.

Quentin Rivers.

Quentin stared down at Ethan, excitement twitching across his features.

“Didn’t expect that, did you? I’ve hit the ninth grade! Qingyun’s number one talent now!” he laughed madly. “And you? You’re nothing! You’ll rot in this cell!”

"...Why?"

Ethan lifted his head. He didn’t glance at Quentin—his eyes locked on Jackson. Voice barely above a whisper.

He'd been a genius since childhood. Flashy talent, big name. But Jackson? Cold as ice.

At home, his status wasn’t even as good as the servants’.

Resources? Few and far between.

While Quentin basked in wealth and training, Ethan got scraps.

But when Ethan’s brilliance started outshining Quentin’s, Jackson grew even colder, and Quentin more hostile.

Ethan, holding on to family ties, left home of his own accord and joined Lingyun Sect.

He never thought they'd betray him like this.Jackson Rivers’ voice was ice-cold. “Simple. Because Quentin is my legitimate son. Born of my lawful wife.”

“And you? Just the filthy spawn of a concubine.”

Quentin laughed like a madman. “You bastard—since the day you were born, you were meant to be the step I climb on.”

“Think it’s easy to refine someone’s Life Soul?”

“I spent eighteen years training this technique, just to devour yours!”

Jackson stayed silent. That silence said it all.

Ethan Rivers felt his blood turn to ice.

“So I was born just to be used?”

He laughed. Blood covering his face, laughter twisted and fierce, but true. A laugh that shook the chains wrapped around his heart.

All the suffocating pressure, the years of being trapped—it all cracked apart in that moment.

His laughter faded. He lifted his head slowly.

“This is the last time I’ll call you father, Jackson Rivers.”

“From this day on, we’re done. For good.”

“I grew up in your house with torn clothes and empty bowls, treated lower than a servant. Never once did you spare me a glance.”

“That Life Soul you stole… it settles all debts between us.”

His voice rang hard and sharp in the dungeon.

Jackson glanced at him, voice like stone. “A cur will always be a cur. Ungrateful bastard.” With that, he turned and walked out.

But Quentin stayed.

He smirked, eyes gleaming slyly.

“Oh, Ethan. Almost forgot—I’ve got a letter. Want to hear it?”

Before Ethan could speak, Quentin opened the letter and started reading slowly.

“To Uncle Jackson, from your niece Sophia...”

Ethan jolted. “Sophia?”

Sophia Bennett—his fiancée.

Back when he entered Lingyun Sect as a young prodigy, her family saw his potential. They got engaged. He remembered her being gentle, kind—they had shared real feelings.

Quentin’s smirk deepened.

“Recently heard Ethan Rivers suffered great misfortune and became a cripple. Marriage should be between equals. In light of Ethan’s downfall, our engagement is no longer suitable...”

“She’s annulling the engagement.”

One sealed letter. No concern, no sorrow, not even a kind word.

Ethan's world cracked again—not from pain, but disbelief.

They didn’t care if he lived or died. All they sent was this—

Like tossing out a mangy dog.

Quentin flicked the letter. “You hear that, Ethan?”

“Sophia left you.”

He clicked his tongue, eyes scanning Ethan’s broken form.

“Pitiful. If you’d lived, maybe you could’ve crawled to her house, been a live-in dog. At least then you’d have a roof.”

“But now? Even that door’s shut.”

He roared with laughter.But he didn’t see it—deep in Ethan Rivers’ eyes, after the momentary dimness, came a blazing resolve.

Burning resolve, with rage boiling underneath.

What was missing—fear. Despair? None of that.

As Quentin Rivers reached the doorway, he paused, turned with a smirk.

“As for that little sister of yours, the one you treasure like gold…”

He rubbed his hands, grin turning twisted. “I’ll have her brought here in a few days. Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of her.”

Without a word, Ethan spat a bloody glob straight at Quentin’s face.

Quentin froze for half a second, then snapped.

With a furious roar, he stomped down on Ethan’s head, grinding his face into the filthy mud.

“Ethan Rivers, I’ve ruined you!”

Then, a sycophantic voice cut in. “Young Master! With your status, no need to dirty your hands.”

“Why not let me handle this waste?”

A man in black stepped inside, lean and cold-eyed.

Tony Williams. A wandering warrior. Ten years back, wounded and near death in the snow outside Qingyun City.

Ethan had found him, taken pity, brought him in and tended to him.

He’d risen to Body Tempering Stage Three, took a steward position in the Rivers household, and commanded a squad of guards.

Ethan had saved his life.

Tony glanced at Ethan—expression blank, heart cold.

His fawning face turned toward Quentin.

Quentin blinked, then burst out laughing. “Fair enough. You do it!”

Grinning, he handed him a steel rod and stepped back.

With a sickening crack, the rod smashed Ethan’s right arm—bone splintered!

Then came the left.

Agony surged through him. Both arms hung like dead weight.

Quentin laughed as he walked away. “Ethan Rivers, I’ll be back to beat you every day!”

Ethan stared hard at Tony. “Alright then, Tony. You’ve made your choice.”

Tony gave a faint sneer. “You saved me once. I remember.”

“But you’re a cripple now. Not worth standing up to the head of the household for.”

Bang! The iron door slammed shut.

Soul stripped.

Powerless.

Arms shattered.

Fiancée gone.

Sister in danger.

Ethan tilted his head back and roared,

“I won’t take this! I, Ethan Rivers, born a genius—how could I become someone’s stepping stone?”

“If Heaven turns on me, I’ll defy it!”

“If men plot against me, I’ll kill them!”

“Those who mocked, betrayed, and crushed me—none of you will walk free!”

Blood surged up and burst from his mouth, staining his chest.

There, hanging from his neck—a jade Buddha. Cold, mysterious, ancient as time itself.

Its ten tiny fingers carved from jade marrow, each swirling with blood-like mist.

Left by his mother, the only thing she’d left behind.

The blood soaked in.

The Buddha buzzed faintly—coming to life.