Chu Xuanyan Chronicle : A Journey To Pinnacle

The night was quiet. The river flowed in silvery silence, its surface rippling beneath the gaze of a lonely moon.

A lone figure sat cross-legged on a flat stone near the riverbank, his hands resting on his knees, back straight. His crystal-blue eyes were closed, his handsome face—still soft with youth—etched with a calm mask of indifference.

The encounter with the Nine Heavenly Thunder Pagoda had left behind more than just anger but now he had finally calmed down. He is in deep meditation right now.

The stars above remained indifferent. They twinkled, distant and cold.

And yet...

For the first time in days, he felt a strange stillness settle over his mind. Not peace, exactly. But clarity. Like a blade finally finding its edge. Even he couldn't quite understand why he was feeling as such.

He had been mocked, pitied, ignored. He tried to accept it, to embrace the mortal life he'd resolved to live just days ago—a quiet existence, free of the cultivation world's cruelty. He'd even convinced himself it was enough: a simple home and yet deep down, a fire again smoldered—small, stubborn, and sharp. Soon, that fire turned into thought.

His eyes slowly opened, blue irises shimmering faintly in the moonlight, a flicker of defiance breaking through his calm. "Just why?" he whispered, voice low and raw, trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. "I chose to let it go. To live as a mortal. Then why push me?" His gaze drifted towards the river. "If the Heavens really want me to cultivate then why not give me some talent to begin with? why curse me with an empty palace? He asked the heavens yet there is no one to answer.

The river seemed to pause. Chu xuanyan's chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Is this what they called Fate?"

His voice cracked, eyes narrowing as he glared at the stars. "And these memories… Why give me memories of Earth?" In his past life, he'd failed a childhood friend, a vow shattered by betrayal and an unfair death. The pain of that failure burned anew, his brows furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line. "Wouldn't it have been kinder to leave me in ignorance?"

He exhaled sharply. "Without these memories... I wouldn't be Chu Xuanyan. And then, I might've accepted the pagoda's offer."

After all, without those memories, he wouldn't be the Chu Xuanyan of today. Perhaps then, he might have accepted the little pagoda's offer—driven by ambition, by hope, by a desperate longing. To uncover his origins... or maybe the reason he was abandoned in the first place.

"But I'm Chu Xuanyan now, not some novel's protagonist." His fingers brushed the damp earth beside him. A fallen seed, barely visible under the moonlight, rested by his knee. Small and forgotten.

He stared at it for a long while. Then, he murmured. "Even a seed begins with nothing—no roots, no branches, not even a promise. Buried in darkness, it is overlooked, forgotten. But with time, patience, and silent struggle, it breaks the earth, drinks the rain, and reaches for the sun. It does not rush, it does not boast—yet one day, it becomes a tree that even storms bow to."

The wind hushed as if the world held its breath. His eyes widened. His thoughts churning. Why do we cultivate? He asked himself. But he already knew the answer. To grow stronger. To master heaven and earth. To transcend.

And how do we cultivate?

We use the Astral Star as the foundation to draw upon the Qi of the world, also known as World Qi, refining it into a force known simply as Starforce.

World Qi is the natural energy that permeates the world. The Astral Star serves as the anchor—or medium—that allows a cultivator to sense and interact with it. Through the use of a circulation method, the cultivator draws the World Qi into their Astral Palace, where the Astral Star refines it into Starforce—pure, condensed energy used to temper the body, mind, and soul.

But… He clenched his fist. His Astral Palace wasn't damaged—it was perfectly whole. Just empty. What if one had no astral star? An empty astral palace ?

Then one couldn't cultivate. Without an Astral Star as the foundation, sensing the World Qi in the surroundings was impossible. And if you couldn't sense it… how could you ever draw it in ?

"Why should that be a flaw?" he whispered, voice trembling with a mix of fear and exhilaration. "Because I'm not worthy? Because the Heavens say so?"

He picked up the seed beside him, his gaze lingering on it. This seed...

Just a plain, brown seed. Fallen from some unknown tree. And...

A seed was born in darkness. So was he.

A seed had nothing at first. So did he.

A seed doesn't grow by inheriting something—it grew by transforming itself.

"Then why not me?" he murmured. "Why can't I do the same? His lips curled into a determined smile, eyes blazing. "If I have no Astral Star then... why not use my Empty Astral Palace as a dantian?"

The idea surged through him like a bolt of lightning, wild and defiant, shattering the chains of the Astral system's rules. His crystal-blue eyes blazed under the moonlight, the small, brown seed in his hand trembling slightly as his fingers tightened around it. The Silverstream River's ripples seemed to pause, their silvery whispers mirroring the spark igniting within his soul.

A dantian—a concept from the cultivation novels he'd read on Earth. In this world, the Astral Star draws in World Qi and refines it into Starforce. The Astral Palace then serves as the vessel to store that refined energy. But… wasn't it the same in essence?

A dantian was also a vessel—one that could both refine and store Qi, all without the need for an Astral Star. Could his Empty Astral Palace, that hollow void the world called a flaw, become his foundation?

Chu Xuanyan's thoughts raced, his brow furrowing as he pieced together fragments of Earth-born knowledge.

In those novels, the dantian was the cultivator's core—a mystic reservoir within the body. Depending on the cultivation path, there were three dantians: lower, middle, and upper.

The lower dantian, the primary center for Qi cultivation, was said to reside two to three inches below the navel, deep within the abdomen.

His eyes narrowed. The Astral Palace in this world—wasn't it located in the exact same place?.

A dantian is the crucible where raw qi, the lifeblood of the world, was drawn in, refined, and transformed into a force that could shatter mountains or defy the heavens. That raw qi should also be the world qi and... Unlike the Astral palace, which relied on astral star to sense and channel world qi into starforce, a dantian was primal, personal—a self-sustaining wellspring of power. It didn't need the Heavens' approval, didn't bow to the stars' dictates. It was a cultivator's own defiance, a spark kindled from within.

Yet a shadow of doubt crept in, his brow creasing, lips pressing into a thin line. "But my palace isn't a dantian," he muttered, voice low and raw. "It's an Astral Palace, built for a star I don't have."

That was the problem—what he had was an Astral Palace, not a dantian. And yet… the similarities between the two were undeniable. Too similar. Similarities he had never noticed before. Maybe did. Just ignored it back then.

His brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as a quiet unease settled in his chest. Is that really a coincidence?

He opened his palm, staring at the seed, its plain, brown surface unremarkable yet profound under the moonlight. His expression softened, eyes widening with a quiet reverence. "A seed doesn't begin with power," he thought. "It begins with struggle. With growth. With transformation."

Just as a seed carried the blueprint of a mighty tree, his Empty Astral Palace could be the seed of his cultivation—a dantian that needed no star, only his will to transform it.

He had studied that a circulation method was needed to circulate the Astral Star within the Astral Palace. Did a dantian need one to draw Qi? No. There's something I'm missing… Circulation, circulate… His eyes widened, a spark of realization flaring. "Wait… what if, instead of a circulation method, I circulate the dantian itself?" The thought struck like thunder, his heart pounding, breath catching in his throat.

"Will it work? Chu xuanyan's grip tightened on the seed. It was true—he had never thought of this before. In this world, circulating the Astral Palace itself was taboo, a forbidden act whispered to end in ruin, crippling the cultivator's core and severing their path forever. Chu xuanyan lips curled into a bitter smile, his brow creasing with defiance. I'm already a cripple, he thought. What more is there to fear? His smile fierce, eyes blazing with defiance.

He closed his eyes, focusing inward, his breath steadying as he sank into meditation. The seed rested in his palm, its faint warmth grounding him. He visualized his Empty Astral Palace—a perfect, hollow sphere below his navel, silent and still. Move, he urged, his will pressing against the void. Spin. He imagined it turning, a slow vortex, like a seed stirring in the earth. His heart pounded, sweat beading on his brow, his lips parting as he poured his defiance into the act.

At first, nothing. It remained stubborn, unyielding. His fists clenched, frustration flickering across his face. But he pushed harder. A seed doesn't break the earth in a day, he thought. Patience. Struggle. He focused deeper, his will a blade carving through doubt. Slowly, impossibly, he felt it—a tremor in his palace, a faint pulse, like the first crack in a seed's shell. His eyes snapped open, wide with awe, as a wisp of World Qi brushed his senses, cool and vibrant, drawn into the spinning void.

It worked. His palace turned, a starless vortex pulling in the world's energy. The Qi swirled within, raw and unrefined, but real—a spark of power where none had existed. His breath hitched, a triumphant smile breaking across his face, his eyes blazing with hope.

"I did it," he whispered, voice trembling with exhilaration. The seed in his hand seemed to pulse, as if echoing his victory, a promise of growth.

Just then the world shifted. He seemed to sense his surroundings changed and what he saw left him astonished. The vision struck him like lightning.

He saw it—a vast, transcendent tree. Its roots sank through the foundations of reality; its branches stretched across galaxies. Life, death, rebirth, time, and balance flowed through it. A being beyond comprehension.

The Chaos Divine Tree.