In the barren foothills of the Northern Mountain Range, fifteen-year-old Han Yu knelt on a flat river rock, trembling so wildly his teeth clicked like loose pebbles.
Above the boy’s head, the sky had bruised into dark, swirling storm clouds.
Han Yu was the son of an impoverished charcoal burner.
He possessed no noble lineage, no old family spirit stones, and no master.
The manual clutched in his sweaty palm was a tattered, three-page pamphlet titled Basic River Flow Art, bought for four copper coins from a drunken travelling peddler behind a tavern.
For seven months, Han Yu had circulated his spiritual breath according to the smudged charcoal drawings.
An hour ago, feeling the spiritual qi swell in his lower belly, he had tried to cross the threshold into Qi Gathering Layer One.
Then the storm clouds had gathered.
