Primordial Tribulation: Sovereign of Yin and Yang

Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Discarded Disciple and the Mockery of Yunhai

Scene: Outer Training Grounds, Yunhai Sword Sect, Mortal Realm

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The morning sun had barely risen, yet the outer training grounds of the Yunhai Sword Sect were already filled with the sound of shouting and clashing blades. Hundreds of outer disciples and menial workers sweated under the pale dawn light, breathing in the fresh, spiritual air that lingered across the mountains.

Only beneath the ancient locust tree at the edge of the field was the atmosphere heavy — tinged with mockery.

Lu Qingyun sat cross-legged beneath the tree, eyes closed, his thin frame looking fragile in the washed-out coarse uniform of the sect. Against the backdrop of vigorous disciples clad in crisp robes, he looked like a faded shadow.

“Look, the ‘Trash of Qingyun’ is meditating again.”

A tall, broad-shouldered youth named Zhao Hu, whose cultivation had already reached the Second Stage of Postnatal Qi, strode over with a grin deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You’ve got persistence, I’ll give you that. Three whole years, and you haven’t even touched the threshold of the First Stage. Stop wasting the sect’s spiritual energy—go carry some firewood for the kitchens instead. At least you’ll earn yourself a decent meal.”

Laughter erupted from the surrounding disciples. In Yunhai Sword Sect, strength was the only currency that mattered.

Lu Qingyun had been taken in by the sect as an abandoned child — a show of “benevolence,” they had called it. Many had expected him to be a hidden prodigy. Instead, he had proven to be a strange cripple, unable to gather even the most basic internal energy.

Slowly, Lu Qingyun opened his eyes. A flicker of cold light passed through them, gone almost as quickly as it appeared. His expression returned to calm indifference. He had no interest in quarreling.

“Move.” His voice was quiet, raspy.

“Oh? Got some temper now?” sneered Li Kun, Zhao Hu’s companion. He stepped forward and kicked over the water jug by Lu Qingyun’s side, spilling its contents onto the ground. “I heard you plan to enter the Inner Sect Selection in three months. Don’t overestimate yourself — you’ll get every meridian in your body broken with a single punch!”

The mocking laughter swelled.

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Suddenly, a clear ringing of a sword echoed across the grounds. The noise died instantly.

A spotless figure stepped out from the entrance to the inner sect training halls. Dressed in a white robe trimmed with silver, her black hair tied high, a cold sword in hand, she looked like a moon descending from the clouds.

Lin Wanqing — Yunhai Sword Sect’s most brilliant genius in a hundred years. At such a young age, her cultivation had already reached the peak of the Postnatal Realm and could break into the Innate Realm at any time.

She walked directly to the center of the training grounds, her expression unreadable, her presence like distant starlight — cold and far above the dust of the world.

Yet when she passed the old locust tree, her gaze lingered — just for a heartbeat — on Lu Qingyun.

There was no mockery in her eyes.

No pity either.

Only a cool, unfathomable detachment.

“Senior Sister, look at this useless—” Zhao Hu began, but froze when Lin Wanqing’s eyes met his.

“The training grounds are not a marketplace. Keep quiet.”

Her voice was cold as falling snow, sharp as steel.

Zhao Hu went pale, quickly backing away with Li Kun and the others.

Lin Wanqing stepped to the center of the field and began demonstrating one of the sect’s high-level sword techniques — Cloudsea Overlapping Waves Sword.

Her blade danced like moonlight, gentle yet carrying the strength of a crashing tide. Even the most arrogant disciples could not look away.

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Lu Qingyun silently gathered his spilled water jug and walked away from the grounds.

He knew what he was to the sect — a discarded disciple, tolerated only because of the sect’s so-called benevolence.

It wasn’t for lack of effort. Every time he tried to guide his inner energy, two forces would clash within him — one violent and blazing hot, the other bone-chilling cold — shattering whatever progress he had made.

He did not yet know that this was the clash between the extreme yang of the Azure Dragon bloodline and the extreme yin of the Solar Demon Spirit hidden in his body.

“If I cannot gather inner strength, then I will cultivate the soul instead.”

These were the words of Elder Mo, repeated to him countless times over the past three years. His progress with the Soul Mantra was agonizingly slow, but its effects were extraordinary.

As he walked toward the kitchen hall, his spirit seemed to drift free from his body. In his mind, he could clearly sense the sword intent radiating from Lin Wanqing — her Lunar Sword Soul, cold and pure like moonlight, resonating at a frequency he could almost touch.

Lin Wanqing — the sect’s shining star.

Lu Qingyun — the sect’s disgrace.

Between them yawned a chasm as vast as the heavens.

Yet there was no resentment in Lu Qingyun’s heart. Only a sharper, more unyielding resolve.

He needed strength.

He must enter the Inner Sect Selection — because he had learned that somewhere within the Inner Sect Library lay a fragmentary map of the Ancient Sword Tomb.

And that map might hold the next part of the Soul Mantra — the only path he had left.