The Ruthless Emperor: Eldenvale

A dark throne, its surface slick with fresh blood, loomed in an endless void. Upon it sat a solitary figure, shrouded in an aura of dominance so oppressive it made the very air tremble. Below the throne, a sea of kneeling figures stretched to infinity, their foreheads pressed against the cold ground, their bodies trembling under the weight of unseen terror.

A single drop of blood fell from the throne's edge, splashing onto the ground. The sound echoed like a thunderclap.

The man on the throne looked down. His gaze was empty, devoid of mercy or empathy, yet burning with unquenchable power. His lips parted, and the silence was shattered by his voice, cold and absolute.

"You kneel because you are weak. And in this world, weakness has no place."

Suddenly, the scene was interrupted.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Wake up, Brother Wu!"

Wu Tianjue's eyes snapped open. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his heart pounding like a war drum. He sat up abruptly, realizing he was in his room. The nightmare again. That same vision.

It wasn't the first time. Ever since he woke up in this world, the vision had haunted him, a recurring specter that would not let him rest. The dark throne, the blood, the kneeling masses, it felt so vivid, so real. Yet, it was a memory he couldn't place.

Because he had no memory of himself.

Two years ago, he had awoken in a corpse-strewn wasteland, battered and broken, without a single fragment of his past. He didn't know his name, his origins, or his purpose. The only thing he remembered was knowledge of this world, Eldenvale, and an overwhelming, primal desire: Power.

That singular drive had led him here, to the School of Talent.

Two months had passed since Wu Tianjue had been accepted as an inner disciple. The School of Talent was said to be the pinnacle of cultivation in the Water Continent, perhaps even the world. Its vast resources, profound techniques, and endless opportunities drew countless prodigies from every corner of Eldenvale.

But to Wu Tianjue, it wasn't enough.

The inner disciples were revered outside the school, but here, they were merely a step above ordinary. Each month, inner disciples received 1,000 Rare Grade Spirit Stones, a fortune to most cultivators. These stones, brimming with the pure essence of heaven and earth, were the lifeblood of cultivation in Eldenvale.

Spirit Stones came in four grades:

Common Grade

Rare Grade

Top Grade

Heaven Grade

For Wu Tianjue, the 1,000 Rare Grade stones he received monthly were meaningless. To fuel his cultivation even slightly, he needed at least 1,000 Top Grade Spirit Stones. The disparity was laughable.

His frustration had been immediate. He wanted to challenge the school's hierarchy, to rise to the coveted position of core disciple, where resources were abundant, techniques were profound, and the true path to strength began.

But the promotion examination was held only once every four months. And so, he had waited.

In these two months, Wu Tianjue had become something of a legend. The mysterious cultivator who defeated Yan Junhao, the older brother of Yan Zhiming, with a single finger during the recruitment tests. His feat spread like wildfire, turning him into a figure of awe and speculation. Yet, immediately after his victory, he had vanished, retreating into "closed-door meditation."

The school buzzed with rumors. Some claimed he was preparing for an unparalleled breakthrough. Others whispered that he was hiding due to fear of retaliation. But Wu Tianjue cared for none of it.

He had no need to explain himself to anyone.

Today, the wait was over.

Wu Tianjue opened his eyes, their depth like the void itself. His expression was calm, yet behind it lay a storm of suppressed ambition. Rising from his meditation, he looked at the mirror in his room. The face staring back at him was sharp and defined, yet bore no hint of warmth.

Today marks the first step, he thought.

He left his quarters, his movements unhurried yet deliberate. Outside, the courtyard was bustling with activity. Disciples, both inner and outer, gathered to watch the rare promotion examinations. The energy in the air was electric, the tension palpable.

As Wu Tianjue appeared, conversations hushed, and all eyes turned to him. His name had been spoken in reverence for months, yet this was the first time most had seen him since the recruitment. His presence alone seemed to alter the atmosphere, a suffocating pressure settling over the crowd.

"That's him," someone whispered.

"Wu Tianjue... the one who defeated Yan Junhao with a single finger."

"Will he really challenge the promotion exam today?"

Wu Tianjue ignored the murmurs. He walked to the arena where the exam would be held, his expression indifferent, his steps steady.

The elder overseeing the examination, a man with a long beard and a sharp gaze, noticed his arrival. His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of interest crossing his face.

"So, you've decided to finally show yourself, Wu Tianjue," the elder said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Wu Tianjue met his gaze, unblinking. "I'm here for what is mine."

The elder chuckled, though there was no warmth in it. "Confidence is good. Let us see if you can back it up."

The crowd stirred as the examination began, their anticipation mounting. The promotion test was not for the faint of heart. It was a trial that tested every aspect of a cultivator, strength, technique, strategy, and willpower. Those who succeeded would rise, but those who failed would face not only humiliation but also potential injury or even death.