"Look! That's the famous James Rake!"
"Hah, what a joke. He's the young master of the prestigious Rake Clan, yet he's completely useless. No spiritual veins—he can't cultivate at all."
"A pity. He's so handsome too."
"Bah! What use is a handsome face in the cultivation world? In less than a hundred years, he'll just be food for the worms like any other mortal. Only those with talent and strength deserve admiration."
Voices filled with disdain echoed in the courtyard as a tall, strikingly handsome young man walked past.
The remarks were harsh, unfiltered, and not even whispered.
The Rake Clan disciples made no attempt to hide their mockery.
James, the subject of their ridicule, clenched his jaw tightly.
Of course he heard them. How could he not? Every insult, every snide comment, every arrogant scoff—it all landed squarely in his ears like knives.
But he said nothing. What could he say?
He lowered his head and quickened his pace, the scorn following him like a shadow.
Soon he arrived at his personal courtyard, pushed open the doors of his residence, and entered his room.
Then—he collapsed face-first onto the bed like a sack of potatoes.
A groan escaped his lips, muffled by the pillow.
"God… what the hell did I do to deserve this?" he muttered, voice soaked with frustration.
The truth was, James wasn't from this world.
He was an ordinary college student—just another face in the crowd—until the night everything changed.
One too many drinks at a party, a wild night he could barely remember, and when he woke up… he was a baby.
A baby named James Rake, heir to one of the great clans of the Azure Sky Continent.
It would've sounded cool—hell, even exciting—if not for one fatal problem.
He was born without a spiritual vein.
In a world where strength dictated everything—status, survival, even love—James was as good as crippled.
Trash. Dead weight.
The clan tolerated him only because of his noble bloodline, but respect?
That was a luxury he couldn't afford.
And now, at 18 years of age, he was the laughingstock of the entire clan.
Handsome? Yes.
Talented? Not in the slightest.
And yet, James had one thing no one in this world could understand:
He came from another world.
And if the stories he read, the tropes he knew, and the instincts he trusted were right...
Then somewhere, somehow, a twist was coming.
He had been hoping for 18 long years but nothing yet.
No grandpa hiding in his ring. No golden finger. No special cheats.
"I was a nobody in my past life on Earth… and now I'm still a nobody."
James stared blankly at the ceiling, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with bitterness.
"What's the point of reincarnating into a cultivation world… if I still end up at the bottom?"
He lay still, the soft rustle of the breeze through the paper walls the only sound in the room.
Outside, birds chirped, disciples trained, the world turned.
But inside his courtyard?
Silence. Mockery. Isolation.
He had hoped—no, believed—that fate had chosen him for something greater.
In those first moments when he'd realized he'd been reborn into a xianxia world, he was ecstatic.
He'd dreamed of awakening a powerful bloodline, unlocking some supreme artifact, maybe being gifted a system that granted him strength beyond imagination.
But reality was cruel.
Eighteen years.
Eighteen years of ridicule, of watching others soar while he remained grounded.
No spiritual vein. No talent. No resources.
The clan had practically written him off as a disgrace—an eyesore they couldn't get rid of only because of his noble lineage.
He curled into himself, fists clenched on the mattress.
"I thought I'd be the protagonist…" he muttered, voice cracking. "Instead, I'm just the joke."
Tears stung at the corners of his eyes. Shame, fury, hopelessness—all twisted into a tight knot in his chest.
And then—
Ding.
A sound echoed through his soul. Clear. Resonant.
Not from the room, not from the outside world, but from somewhere far deeper—within.
James blinked.
The air in the room… shifted. As though the heavens themselves were holding their breath.
He sat up slowly, blinking in confusion.
"Did I just…?"
Suddenly, a heat like molten gold surged through his veins.
He gasped and fell to the floor as a wave of unimaginable energy erupted from his dantian—no, from somewhere deeper than his dantian.
His body lit up, patterns of glowing runes appearing briefly on his skin before vanishing like smoke in the wind.
Then came the knowledge.
It struck like a tidal wave—an entire universe flooding into his mind.
Cultivation methods more advanced than anything the Rake Clan had ever seen…
Martial arts that could shatter mountains and bend space…
Alchemy formulas lost since the ancient Immortal Eras…
Secrets of the Dao…
Of fate…
Of the heavens themselves.
He screamed—not in pain, but in awe—as his mind expanded, as if doors he never knew existed were being flung open one after another.
Symbols danced in his vision, celestial diagrams etched themselves into the corners of his consciousness.
He could feel it all—the pulse of the world, the flow of qi in the wind outside, the energy hidden in even a blade of grass.
It was overwhelming, intoxicating, terrifying.
And he was changing.
His muscles swelled with power. His skin hardened like divine jade.
His spiritual sea—which had been empty for eighteen years—burst open with a roar.
His meridians lit up one by one, then hundreds of additional, hidden meridians awakened that even the ancient sages had never dreamed of.
He wasn't just cultivating now.
He was becoming something else entirely.
By the time the storm within him calmed, James was floating—his feet no longer touching the ground.
His white robes fluttered despite the stillness of the air. His eyes glowed faintly with starlight.
He landed softly, trembling, as he looked at his hands.
He could crush boulders with a thought. He could hear the grass whisper.
He could feel the Dao vibrating all around him.
"I…" he whispered, voice hoarse.
"I am no longer trash."
And the heavens knew it too.
Lightning flashed in the distance. Clouds stirred unnaturally.
Some unseen force—far above, far beyond—had taken notice.
James Rake, the boy mocked for being born without a spiritual vein, had awakened something beyond comprehension.
A few breaths little, James crazy laughter could be heard in his room.