Volume One: Summoning Spirits

Chapter One: The Injured Elder

　　The blazing sun hung high in the sky. Crimson rays shot down like arrows, setting the ground ablaze, reflecting back waves of heat like boiling oil. The air was steaming, suffocating, harsh, and oppressively stifling, as if people’s very cells and fibers would tremble and burst apart.

　　Yet, beneath this scorching sunlight, a young man stood bare-chested in the center of the square, head held high and chest out. His healthy, bronze skin glistened with beads of sweat the size of beans under the intense sunlight.

　　Though his features could not be called handsome or dashing, his bright, sparkling eyes were especially striking. In his gaze, there was a look of determination and decisiveness.

　　“Hah…”

　　A low shout burst from his mouth, like the roar of a dragon or the cry of a tiger, brimming with masculine strength.

　　The youth stepped forward, his bare feet stomping heavily on the cracked ground. Though there were bits of broken stones scattered about, he seemed not to notice them at all.

　　Then, his tightly clenched fists shot forward with a thunderous force.

　　A faint whistling sound echoed in the air—the sound of his fists slicing through the air at such speed that it caused the air itself to vibrate.

　　He continued, punching forward step by step, each stride exuding an unyielding, unstoppable momentum. The stronger his punches, the faster his fists, the more powerful his aura became.

　　However, each punch was delivered with his full strength. After ten consecutive punches, though his momentum reached its peak, he could not maintain it for long.

　　“Hah…”

　　With a final loud shout, the youth unleashed his tenth punch.

　　This punch was incomparably fierce, as if he had poured all his energy and spirit into it. The sharp wind of his fist echoed in the air, seemingly producing a piercing, explosive sound.

　　The power of this punch was almost on par with that of a true martial artist.

　　However, after throwing this punch, the youth staggered. He quickly stepped forward, barely managing to steady himself, gasping for breath.

　　After a long while, his breathing finally calmed.

　　He lifted his head, and a trace of frustration appeared on his somewhat stubborn face.

　　Not far away, a middle-aged man walked over slowly and stopped beside him. The man’s features were very similar to the youth’s, only much older.

　　Looking at the youth’s expression, though he already knew the answer in his heart, he couldn’t help but ask with a final glimmer of hope, “William, how did it go?”

　　The youth lowered his head, pressed his lips together, and shook his head.

　　With a soft sigh, the middle-aged man was silent for a moment before saying, “William, let it go. Maybe you just don’t have the talent to become a martial artist. Sigh, honestly, our family living like this is already much better than most people.”

　　The youth suddenly looked up, surprised, and stared at his father. “Dad, what did you say? You want me to give up?”

　　The middle-aged man gave a bitter smile. “Son, sometimes you just have to accept fate.” He paused, then continued, “Ever since you were little, I’ve taught you the The Carter Family’s martial arts, but even now, you haven’t managed to condense even a trace of true qi. Sigh, maybe this is just fate.”

　　He looked at his son, his eyes filled with an indescribable bitterness.

　　Henry Carter, one of the direct descendants of the The Carter Family.

　　However, though he was born into the direct line, decades ago he failed to condense true qi before the age of fifteen, so he left the main family and came here to manage a remote farm belonging to the clan.

　　For a direct descendant of the The Carter Family, such an outcome was essentially a life of idleness and obscurity. Even some powerful collateral relatives lived far more gloriously than he did.

　　After coming here, Henry Carter lost all ambition. Though he never completely gave up martial arts, without the drive to compete for the top, he became somewhat self-indulgent and dispirited. For decades, he still failed to condense even a trace of true qi.

　　However, ever since his son was born, he placed all his hopes on William Carter.

　　The reason he named him William naturally contained a wish in his heart that he had never spoken of.

　　But while wishes are beautiful, reality is cruel.

　　The boy had trained hard in martial arts since childhood, never slacking off. Yet, the heavens seemed never to favor him. Even now, as he approached the critical age of fifteen, he still could not condense true qi.

　　At this point, even the most unwilling Henry Carter had no choice but to give up.

　　William Carter pressed his lips tightly together, so hard that they turned pale.

　　Unwilling to accept it, he said, “Dad, don’t worry. I will definitely be able to condense true qi.”