Lin Feng had dreamed of cultivating since he was five years old.
Every child in the village had the same dream: gather qi, forge a core, ascend the path of immortality and join the great sects that ruled the heavens. In the old days, before the gods abandoned the mortal realm, even a farmer's son could become a legend. The stories said so.
The stories said a lot of things.
What the stories didn't say was what happened when you were born broken. When the channels through which qi flowed were shattered before your first breath, torn apart by some cruel twist of fate that no healer could explain.
What the stories didn't say was that some dreams were impossible.
"Move, cripple."
The kick caught Lin Feng in the ribs, sending him sprawling in the dirt outside the village's cultivation hall. He curled around the pain, tasting blood, waiting for the second kick he knew was coming.
"That's enough, Wei Chen." The voice was cold, disinterested. Elder Sun, the village's only surviving cultivator, stood in the doorway of the hall, his robes immaculate despite the dust. "You'll damage your foot more than you'll hurt him."
Wei Chen, son of the village chief and eternal thorn in Lin Feng's side, spat on the ground near Lin Feng's face.
"He shouldn't be here. Cripples don't belong at cultivation demonstrations."
"He's not here for cultivation." Elder Sun's voice remained flat. "He cleans the floors. He empties the chamber pots. He exists so that you have someone to look down upon." The elder's lips twitched. "Every great hero needs a contrast. Consider him yours."
Wei Chen laughed. So did his friends, a pack of other village boys with mediocre affinities and wealthy fathers. They filed into the cultivation hall, leaving Lin Feng in the dirt.
He waited until the doors closed before he let himself breathe.
---
Lin Feng was eighteen years old, and he was going to die.
Not today. Probably not tomorrow. But soon. The divine beasts that roamed the wastelands between villages were getting bolder, pushing into territory that had been safe when the old sects still existed. The village's single cultivator could handle one beast, maybe two.
Last month, there had been a pack of seven.
The village was running out of time, and Lin Feng was running out of reasons to stay.
His mother had died three years ago, the only person who'd ever looked at him without pity or contempt. His father had been a wandering merchant who'd disappeared before Lin Feng was born. He had no siblings. No friends. No particular future to speak of.
All he had was a dream that would never come true.
*I should leave*, he thought as he swept the cultivation hall that evening. *Just walk into the wastes and let the beasts take me. Better than waiting here for death to come knocking.*
The thought had been visiting him more often lately. He didn't fear it the way he probably should.
"You have unusual thoughts for a servant."
Lin Feng spun, dropping his broom. The hall was supposed to be empty; the students and elder had left hours ago. But there, sitting on the raised platform where Elder Sun demonstrated techniques, was someone he'd never seen before.
The stranger was old. Impossibly old. His skin was paper-thin, stretched over bones that seemed too sharp, and his eyes were empty. Not blind. *Empty*. Like looking into a hole that went down forever.
"Who are you?" Lin Feng's voice came out as a whisper.
"A ghost." The old man smiled, showing too many teeth. "I've been watching you, Lin Feng. For quite some time."
"How do you know my name?"
"I know many things. I know your meridians are shattered beyond repair. I know you've dreamed of cultivation since you were old enough to understand the word. I know you're planning to walk into the wastes and die." The smile widened. "And I know something you don't. You can still cultivate."
Lin Feng laughed. It was a bitter sound, more like a cough. "My meridians are broken. Every healer in the province has confirmed it. Without meridians, cultivation is—"
"Impossible. Yes. For normal methods." The old man rose, and he seemed to float rather than walk as he moved toward Lin Feng. "But there is another way. An older way."
He held out his hand. In his palm lay a scroll, ancient and tattered, covered in characters that seemed to writhe like living things.
"The Devourer's Scripture. Created ten thousand years ago, when the gods still walked among mortals. It teaches a cultivation path that doesn't require meridians." The old man's empty eyes bored into Lin Feng. "It teaches you to *eat*."
"Eat?"
"Divine beasts, Lin Feng. The creatures that hunt your village, that threaten your people. This scripture will teach you to kill them, consume them, and *become* them." His voice dropped low. "Every beast you devour will make you stronger. Every kill will bring you closer to the heavens. In time, you could challenge the gods themselves."
Lin Feng stared at the scroll. He should be afraid. Should run, or scream, or do anything except stand here listening to a ghost offer him impossible power.
But he'd stopped being afraid a long time ago.
"What's the cost?"
"Everything." The old man pressed the scroll into Lin Feng's hands. "The path of the Devourer is not cultivation. It is transformation. Every beast you consume will leave its mark on your soul. You will gain their power, but you'll also carry their hunger. Their instincts. The dark parts of them."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you sweep floors until your village is destroyed, and you die with a broom in your hand." The old man began to fade, his form going translucent. "The choice is yours, Lin Feng. Stay the cripple, or become something else entirely."
He vanished.
Lin Feng stood alone in the cultivation hall, holding a scroll that hummed against his palms.
*Every beast you devour will make you stronger.*
He thought of Wei Chen's boot in his ribs. Of Elder Sun's contemptuous words. Of his mother's grave, unmarked and unmaintained because cripples' families didn't deserve monuments.
He thought of the divine beasts circling his village, waiting for the moment to strike.
*Challenge the gods themselves.*
The gods who had abandoned the mortal realm. Who had taken their qi and their protection and left humanity to rot. Who had looked down on millions of suffering people and decided they weren't worth saving.
Lin Feng unrolled the scripture.
The characters burned themselves into his mind.
And deep in his chest, something stirred.
---
The first beast came three nights later.
A lesser creature, barely worth the name. A corrupted wolf the size of a horse with too many eyes and not enough mercy. It had strayed too close to the village walls, drawn by the scent of livestock.
Lin Feng found it in the pre-dawn darkness, stalking the fence near the goat pens.
His hands were empty. He had no sword, no staff, no cultivation technique. All he had was the hunger burning in his gut and the words of the Devourer's Scripture echoing in his mind.
*Reach out. Feel its essence. Make it yours.*
The wolf turned, sensing him. Its many eyes reflected the starlight, cold and alien.
Lin Feng smiled.
And struck.
---
He found the village elder at sunrise, kneeling beside what remained of the beast. The wolf's body had collapsed in on itself, as if something had hollowed it out from within. Its eyes were missing. Its core, the dense ball of corrupted qi at the center of every divine beast, was gone.
"What happened here?" Elder Sun demanded.
Lin Feng stood at the edge of the scene, feeling the beast's stolen power settling into his broken meridians like water filling a cracked vessel. It wasn't much. A trickle of strength where once there had been nothing.
But it was a beginning.
"I don't know, Elder." His voice was perfectly calm. "I only came to report the noise. Perhaps the beast was diseased?"
Sun studied him with narrow eyes, searching for something Lin Feng was careful not to show. Then he turned away.
"Get back to your duties, cripple. There's nothing for you here."
Lin Feng bowed and retreated.
The hunger in his gut settled, satisfied for now.
But already, it wanted more.
