Chapter 148: Unnamed
Ming Ping was born into the royal Xuan Yu Sect, an ancient and prestigious lineage. As the firstborn and eldest son of the Sect Leader, he carried the weight of a thousand expectations from the moment he was conceived. However, those hopes shattered like a fragile dream the moment he was delivered. To the Sect Leader’s horror, the child was born completely blind.
The Sect Leader’s disappointment quickly curdled into rage. He had adored his beautiful wife, believing she would provide him with a perfect heir to lead the next generation. In his eyes, being blind in a ruthless cultivation world was akin to standing naked in a wilderness teeming with predators.
The birth sparked a bitter, long-standing conflict between the Sect Leader and his wife. Their arguments were so fierce that they eventually began living separate lives. Ming Ping survived only because of his mother’s unwavering determination; she refused to abandon him and adamantly declined to conceive another child. She took it upon herself to raise him, exhausting every resource to find a cure, though his sight never returned.
Eighteen years passed in the blink of an eye. Ming Ping grew up shaped by the trauma of his parents’ constant warring, yet he managed to live a life better than most "trash" due to his mother’s protection and his own budding talent for cultivation.
However, a new conflict has emerged: his mother’s relentless demand that he become the next Holy Son of the Sect. It is a position Ming Ping does not desire and one his father has no intention of granting him. Yet, driven by his mother’s ambition and fueled by secrets known only to him, Ming Ping has begun his ascent to the top.Born into prestige, destined for nothing.
In the ancient and ruthless Xuan Yu Sect, power is the only currency that matters. When the Sect Leader’s firstborn, Ming Ping, was born into the world’s most elite lineage, a thousand expectations rested on his shoulders. But the moment his eyes opened to reveal a milky, sightless void, those hopes shattered. To his father, a blind son wasn’t an heir—he was a defect.
For eighteen years, Ming Ping has been the silent casualty of a broken home. His birth tore his parents apart: a father who views him with murderous disappointment and a mother whose love has curdled into a suffocating, desperate ambition. Protected only by his mother’s fierce defiance, Ming Ping has survived in a world of predators, quietly cultivating a talent that no one—least of all his father—suspects.
Now, the fragile peace is breaking. His mother demands he claim the title of Holy Son, a position of supreme power that his father would sooner burn the sect down than grant him.
But Ming Ping has a secret. In the darkness of his world, he has seen things the sighted cannot comprehend. He doesn’t want the throne for his mother’s pride or his father’s approval—he wants it because he is the only one who knows the storm that is coming.In a primitive world where strength is the only law and survival is a brutal calculation, Fuyu is widely considered a "mama’s boy"—a quiet, unassuming youth who spends his days providing medicinal massages to the village’s weary matrons. But beneath this docile exterior lies a burgeoning predator. Guided by the cynical, ancient spirit Vasana, Fuyu has begun a journey of forbidden cultivation, opening the hidden Nadis (energy veins) of his body to achieve a power that transcends human limits.
Fuyu’s path to divinity is paved with moral ambiguity. To fuel his transformation, he must harvest the unique energies of the women around him, leading him into a web of libidinous secrets and manipulative power plays. As he begins to shed his "weakling" persona, he orchestrates the downfall of the village’s strongest warriors not with brute force, but with the cold, mercenary efficiency of a seasoned strategist.
However, the greatest threat to Fuyu’s transcendence isn’t the monsters in the wild or the rivals in the arena—it is the suffocating atmosphere of his own home. He finds himself at the center of a volatile storm of female obsession:In the Eastern Region of the Xuan Dynasty...
In the courtyard of the XuanYu Sect—the primary sect of the Xuan Dynasty—a figure in a black robe stood with his hands behind his back, facing the orange sky. As the sun set, the blue firmament bled into red. A breeze of cold air brushed past his face, stirring a deep sense of nostalgia within him.
It had been eighteen years since he arrived in this beautiful yet chaotic world of cultivation; a world where no one survives without power. Without strength, one is nothing more than a slave or a human sacrifice, regardless of identity. No one is safe without power—be they human, spiritual beast, God, Emperor, or Immortal.
"Ha..." Ming Ping let out a long sigh and lowered his head. His hands reached behind his skull to untie a silk blindfold. The fabric was soft, marked with the special golden seal of the sect.
After removing the black cloth, which was incantated with a spiritual formation, Ming Ping looked toward the sky once more before sitting on a chair in the courtyard. Although his eyelids remained closed even after removing the blindfold, he could still perceive the world around him. This was due to the legendary technique: Sacred Golden Eagle Vision Penetration. He had learned it from the Heavenly Realm grandmasters before falling to this mortal world in his past life. While it granted him sight, the technique was taxing; it functioned only for a few moments before nearly consuming all of Ming Ping’s internal energy.
To use this Golden Eagle Vision as a permanent cure for his blindness, he would require a vast, unimaginable source of Qi—something nearly impossible to obtain.
"The sky looks so mesmerizing, filled with spiritual beasts and cultivators soaring on their flying objects. It is a pity I cannot open my eyes to fully praise its beauty. Truthfully, I never thought I would despise something I never even laid eyes upon," Ming Ping thought, his expression calm. Although sadness welled within him, his face remained as cold and emotionless as the void.
The courtyard was saturated with dense Immortal Qi, resembling a forest shrouded in thick fog. This was maintained by numerous spiritual formations, which had aided his brief glimpse of the sky moments ago. Ming Ping turned toward the spiritual pond. Pushing these thoughts aside, he rose from his chair and moved to a stone near the water’s edge. He navigated without assistance or the use of his technique, a result of diligent practice within the mansion on the mountain peak belonging to the Sect Leader’s wife—his mother. He began to form a special mudra with his hands, accumulating Qi from the atmosphere. This residence had been specially constructed for him by his mother on this mountain.
Born into this world, cultivation was naturally of paramount importance. Most sought the path to achieve immortality, gain regional influence, amass wealth, or pursue worldly pleasures. Ming Ping, however, had been initially surprised by the existence of spiritual fruits, wines, pills, talismans, and beasts. He had no desire to pursue immortality again after the great downfall of his past life. Struggling in this mortal world alongside those chasing eternal life, his ambitions and heart had already shattered. He knew that while people used these resources to prolong their lives and avoid the ravages of age, true power was different.
"Mother, if they can become immortal through these things, why must they cultivate?" a younger Ming Ping had once asked.
The figure before him wore exquisite robes with purple-red stripes accentuating her hourglass figure. Her hair flowed with the wind, and her smile was that of an immortal fairy—though this was no heavenly realm. This was Ming Ping’s mother, Ming Jun. She was teaching him the nature of immortals.
"That is because even if they prolong their lives several-fold, little Ping, they cannot avoid trouble or unexpected peril where death is certain. What if they encounter a life-and-death situation? You always need power to navigate such problems. Yes, one can rely on external items to be powerful, but without innate strength, those powers make one a dragon made of fog. They appear formidable, but because they are not real, they are easily destroyed. That is why..." Ming Jun’s beautiful face showed a pleased expression, her lips curling into a mesmerizing smile. Her midnight-black hair trailed behind her, making her look like an absolute fairy. After all, she was the wife of the Sect Master.
"But mother, what if we cause no trouble and remain low-key?" Ming Ping had asked.
The memory blurred, and Ming Ping returned to the present at the sound of approaching footsteps. He pushed his nostalgic thoughts aside and ceased his cultivation.
The courtyard door pushed open, and a graceful lady in elegant, form-fitting clothes walked toward him. Her bare feet made no sound—like a cat—yet Ming Ping felt her presence. She deliberately projected her aura to alert him, knowing that if she hid her presence, she would be invisible to her blind son.
As she reached a point a few meters behind him, Ming Ping turned his head and greeted her with utmost respect. "Greetings, Mother."
Ming Jun offered a low, cold hum in response. She wore purple-and-white ancient clothing of beautiful design that showcased her perfect figure. Though she acknowledged him, Ming Ping could sense the coldness and anger simmering beneath her nonchalant facade. He smiled slightly, attempting to lighten the mood.
"What has happened, Mother? Has your son done something to earn your ire?"
Ming Jun stared directly at her son’s calm, closed-eyed face. Her eyes evaluated his cultivation progress. Even though he used a secret technique she had given him to hide his presence from others, it was useless against her due to the massive disparity in their power levels. Witnessing his progress, her cold demeanor softened slightly, though her words remained sharp.
"Angry? Yes, I am angry with you, Little Ping," she said, her face an emotionless mask.
"Then please enlighten me, Mother. What have I done to offend you?" Ming Ping spoke with genuine respect. He cared little for the opinions of others regarding his mother; in his eyes, she was the only one who mattered because of all she had done for him.
"You..." Ming Jun started to speak impulsively but halted. She took a deep breath. "You are well aware of the upcoming ceremony, are you not? The one to be held in two years?"
"Oh, you mean the event to establish the Holy Son of the XuanYu Sect," Ming Ping replied thoughtfully. "I suppose I am."
"Then I wish to know: why are you refusing the position?" Ming Jun asked, her expression fierce despite her calm voice. "You are our only son and the true heir. Yet you reject it, and now your father intends to appoint that boy, Fang Chen, or someone else to the role."
Before Ming Ping could answer, she continued: "Do you realize the importance of the Holy Son? The position is second only to the Sect Master. If the Sect Master retires, the Holy Son takes his place. You are simply letting it go. Do you know how this reflects on me? What loss of reputation I will face? I have done everything for you since your birth—I even fought your father to prove your worth. I am not here to entertain this pathetic decision." Her desire for reputation was too prominent to allow for any other perspective. She glared at him, her anger rising.
Finally, Ming Ping spoke. "I am sorry, Mother. But should the Holy Son not be the strongest of the younger generation? Should he not possess the qualities required to lead the sect? As for me, what qualifications do I have? I am neither the strongest nor the most capable of such responsibility. If I were to become the Holy Son over someone like Fang Chen, would people not criticize you and Father for blatant favoritism?"
As he spoke, Ming Jun’s eyebrows furrowed. Her aura flared, flooding the courtyard with dense, suffocating spiritual pressure.
Ming Ping felt a sudden weight on his shoulders, making it difficult to breathe. Fortunately, Ming Jun restrained the bulk of her power. "What qualifications do you have, you ask?" Ming Jun’s voice rose. "You are my son. That is the only qualification you need. As for the others, I do not give a damn about them. I would like to see if anyone dares to challenge my decision."
She made her stance clear, attempting to compose herself. She wanted him to submit to her ambition, not to drive him away with excessive aggression. As Ming Ping opened his mouth to respond, she cut him off.
"I do not care what you think. If I do not see you installed as the Holy Son at the next event, do not ever come to me and call me Mother again."
With those final words, she vanished from the courtyard, leaving Ming Ping no chance to explain.
Ming Ping felt her presence fade into the distance. "It seems Mother is truly furious this time," he thought with a bitter smile.
Meanwhile, in a secluded cave in a corner of the main sect mountain...
Ming Jun sat upon a stone bed in a meditative posture. She cultivated, but her mind replayed the encounter in the courtyard.
"Was I too harsh?" she wondered. Her face remained like that of an emotionless doll. Suddenly, she snorted.
"What did I say that was wrong? If he cannot do this much for me... perhaps it would be better if I made Fang Chen my son instead, since Ping believes him to be so much more responsible."
I have corrected the grammar, punctuation, and flow while maintaining your narrative structure and length. Would you like me to continue the story or focus on developing the tension between Ming Ping and Fang Chen?