The sky collapsed and the earth split open. In an instant, darkness engulfed a hundred thousand miles in every direction. Immediately after, Derek Foster emitted a dazzling white light, and before everyone’s eyes, was completely split in two. In that moment, heaven and earth lost all sound, leaving only black and white. Everyone’s movements were shackled. In that instant, the paragons of these vast worlds were as fragile as infants. In that instant, all immortals felt the irresistible might of heaven and earth, and a sigh from the unseen.

At that moment, a red light vanished into a crack in space...

When everything finally calmed down, several months had passed. The battle of Derek Foster had already become the most talked-about legend in the vast world. The Demon Lord Brian Clark, wielding the sub-divine power that pierced the heavens and earth, disappeared in his final battle to reach the Heavenly Dao. Some said Brian Clark was destroyed by a heavenly tribulation, some said Brian Clark had become a god, and others said he was gravely wounded. But no matter what, both he and the invincible Sword of the Age Demon vanished without a trace.

The defiant evil god Eric Bennett was utterly annihilated, body and soul. This outlier from a humble minor world had never truly been accepted. The cultivators feared him, envied him, and now he was finally gone.

Between the rifts of Derek Foster, a sword floated quietly. A deep crack ran along its blade. When the wind blew, it made a wailing sound, as if it were weeping.

Its name was Silent.

After this battle, a rare period of peace descended upon the vast world...

Fate marks—only immortals of the vast world possess these primal energy imprints, symbols of status, and the most precious existence for cultivators!

The fate mark of a demigod in the vast world is also known as—a “divine mark.”

For those in the lower realms, that is a dream forever out of reach.

And that red light, freed from the power of the laws, would bring...

Chapter Two: Brothers

Mornings were always filled with fighting spirit for Mark Carter. A new day had begun, and the coming month would be the one to decide victory or defeat!

Mark Carter practically bounced out of bed and washed up at lightning speed.

His first attempt at the test for the Thunderlight Branch of the Sanctuary had ended in failure, but this did nothing to dampen Mark Carter’s fighting spirit.

The Sanctuary was the holy land for every cultivator. Without a doubt, cultivating in the Sanctuary was unmatched by any other place. The Thunderlight City region was blessed with abundant spiritual energy, so it was extremely fortunate to have a branch of the Sanctuary. Every year during admissions, the place was packed with people. In the preliminary selection, Mark Carter’s defeat was expected.

The prerequisite for cultivation was possessing a fate mark. The fate mark was the root of a cultivator. Nourished by primal energy, some people would naturally develop innate abilities. Having a fate mark was the foundation for absorbing and using primal energy. Whether in battle, crafting artifacts, or setting up formations, the fate mark was the inscription, primal energy the output, and of course, the right method was also needed.

Thunderlight City’s primal energy was decent. Born and raised here, Mark Carter was now at the second level of fate mark, meaning he had two fate marks. The more fate marks, the more primal energy could be stored, and the more varied the ways to use it—naturally, the stronger one would be.

Without any cultivation techniques, having two innate fate marks at sixteen was still respectable. Joining a small sect would be quite good, but getting into the Sanctuary was much harder. Yet Mark Carter was determined to enter the Sanctuary.

It was only at the preliminary test that he realized geniuses were everywhere, and the Sword Sect he wanted to join was the most popular. Either you had five or more innate fate marks, or you had special talent or strong sect connections. In the preliminary selection, the youngest to join the Sword Sect was just ten years old—a descendant of a cultivation family, with six innate fate marks. Anyone with less confidence could have been crushed.

It was normal to be eliminated in such circumstances. Fortunately, Mark Carter was persistent and had a big heart. After seeing all kinds of young people, he was even more determined to enter the Sanctuary. If he couldn’t, his life would basically become one of mediocrity, just muddling along.

Who was he?

Mark Carter! The tough guy! A man destined to make a name for himself, to have his name engraved in the Sanctuary’s Hall of Merit!

In reality, the elders in charge of selection would give those eliminated but with some potential one more chance: an entry-level cultivation technique, one month to practice, and after a month, the best would be chosen based on their progress. This was the last chance. If he failed again, he’d have to wait three years to try again. By then, Mark Carter would be nineteen, with no one to rely on, and would have to call a bunch of kids “senior brother” and “senior sister”—the thought made Mark Carter’s skin crawl.

Without a doubt, Mark Carter decided to go all in.

Mark Carter carefully took out something like a mirror—a heart-protecting mirror. As long as you had a fate mark, you could use this low-level artifact. It had some defensive power, but it was obviously a cheap item.

Mark Carter gazed seriously at the mirror. He had spent fifty silver coins at a street stall to buy this treasure. It had only one function, but it was quite magical.

“Mirror, mirror, who is the most talented cultivator in this world?” Mark Carter asked solemnly.

The heart-protecting mirror shimmered, and a crisp, pleasant voice rang out: “Mark Carter, without a doubt, it’s Mark Carter!”

Classmate Mark Carter grinned widely and repeated, “Mark Carter, without a doubt, it’s Mark Carter!”

This was the treasure Mark Carter had spent all his savings and ten coins of borrowed money to buy.

A good start is half the battle. Time to sprint!