Chapter One: A Worthless Doppelganger

On a small, shrub-covered knoll, Yi Tian fixed his gaze intently on a herd of blood deer grazing at the foot of a nearby hill. Every fiber of his being was focused, his hands steady as he gripped a thick iron bow, its limbs as sturdy as a child's arm. With his other hand, he drew a cold, gleaming arrow of refined iron from the quiver strapped to his back.

Suddenly, with a slow and powerful motion, he pulled back the bowstring. The iron bow vibrated with a faint hum as he steadily mustered his strength, inch by inch, until the bow was fully drawn. The arrow was aimed squarely at the herd of blood deer, seventy paces away, poised to unleash a thunderous strike.

Some fifty yards away, fifteen blood deer grazed on the meadow. These creatures stood nearly six feet tall—among them, only three were fawns, yet even they surpassed the height of a grown man. The herd did not feast on ordinary grass but on the medicinal herbs that grew amidst it. This diet imbued their flesh with potent energy, known to strengthen blood and bone, making their meat highly sought after by those who wished to build their bodies. Most prized of all, when a blood deer died, its vital essence surged into its antlers, transforming them into precious velvet. Ground into powder, this velvet could be made into pills or decoctions—valued treasures for any warrior seeking to forge a powerful physique.

With these facts flashing through his mind, Yi Tian's bow remained utterly steady. His body, too, was motionless, clad in garments woven from leaves and vines that blended him seamlessly into the surrounding thicket. No beast, however keen its senses, would detect his presence. Yet Yi Tian dared not grow careless. He knew well the rarity of blood deer: years might pass without a single encounter. Moreover, these creatures were preternaturally alert; at the slightest hint of danger, they would vanish like the wind.

Blood deer moved with astonishing speed, leaping ten yards at a bound, navigated rocky ravines and sheer cliffs as if treading level ground. Even the most skilled hunters struggled to catch one, while lesser warriors stood little chance. The thicket where Yi Tian lay in wait was a favorite hunting spot, several dozen yards from the meadow. Stumbling upon this herd today filled him with both excitement and determination.

"I must not miss!"

He whispered a silent prayer as tension filled his heart. Then, with a sharp snap, the bowstring thundered. An arrow shot forth from the shadows, shattering branches as it soared into the sky.

The blood deer, startled by the sudden eruption, instantly sensed the danger. Though vigilant, they had no time to react. The arrow, swift as lightning, pierced the hind leg of a fully grown deer, burying itself deep into the bone with a metallic clang.

In an instant, panic overtook the herd. The startled deer bolted, each leap spanning more than ten yards, and in a flash, they had vanished into the depths of the mountain.

But the deer Yi Tian struck was not so fortunate. Blood poured from its wounded leg, the arrow wedged in the bone. It limped desperately, its speed greatly reduced—exactly as Yi Tian had planned. Only by crippling a leg could he prevent the deer from escaping. Had he aimed elsewhere, the arrow would have done little harm; blood deer hide was tough, and, at such a distance, the arrow's power was diminished. Unless he could fell his target with a single shot, capturing it would be nearly impossible.

Seeing his prey hobbling, Yi Tian burst from the undergrowth and loosed another arrow, then another. Each shaft, black as thunder, whistled through the air, opening one bloody wound after another on the fleeing animal.

Gradually, he closed the distance. His arrows, forged from refined iron, sank deep into the deer's flesh. At last, with a mournful cry, the beast collapsed, its body riddled with arrows, unable to flee any further.

The rest of the herd had long since disappeared—good news, indeed. Blood deer were timid; at the first sign of trouble they fled, but had they chosen to fight, Yi Tian would have stood no chance against any one of them.

Approaching the fallen animal, Yi Tian felt the ache and numbness in his arm intensify. He had exerted himself to the utmost; his iron bow required the strength to draw three stones, yet even with all his might, he could manage half that. After loosing eight arrows in rapid succession, his right arm was nearly numb.

Though gravely wounded, the deer still clung to life, its formidable vitality undiminished. It struggled weakly, and as it died, its antlers grew engorged and crimson, brimming with blood essence. Only after a long wait did the creature finally expire. Yi Tian then retrieved his valuable arrows, returning them to his quiver. Though two or three had been damaged, a little effort would restore them—no small matter, for each arrow was worth several days' living expenses for an ordinary family.

Next, he hoisted the carcass onto his shoulders. The weight—several hundred pounds—was almost too much for his youthful frame, causing him to stagger under the burden.

It took Yi Tian two full hours to return to his tribe, by which time dusk was falling. The settlement was primitive and wild, perched atop a hill several hundred feet high. Stone houses, rough and sturdy, were scattered up and down the slopes. The higher up the mountain, the larger and more imposing the houses became, crowned at the summit by an ancestral temple, nearly fifty feet tall and covering more than an acre, hulking like a great beast above the tribe.

As dusk neared, Yi Tian quickened his pace, approaching the black stone walls—fifty yards long—that guarded the base of the hill.

"Xiao Tian, why are you back so late this time?"

"Is that a blood deer? Xiao Tian, your luck is incredible!"

At the great gate, a few burly men had been passing the time idly, their boredom vanishing at Yi Tian's approach. They marveled at his quarry—a full-grown blood deer. Though not a fierce beast, blood deer were rare; a year might pass without sighting one, let alone killing it.

"Uncle Hong, Uncle Qing, sorry to have kept you waiting," Yi Tian said gratefully. Had he been any later, they would have closed the gate half an hour ago.

"It's nothing," Uncle Hong and Uncle Qing replied, their attention fixed on the deer. "What a pity about the hide," they lamented. If they had hunted it, one arrow would have sufficed, leaving the pelt nearly untouched. A perfect blood deer hide could fetch at least fifty silver coins, but this one, riddled with arrow holes, was worth a tenth of that at best.

Yi Tian left them behind, heading to a stone house halfway up the mountain. Two children, a sturdy boy and a lovely girl, were playing outside. Spotting Yi Tian, they rushed over with shouts of, "Big brother, big brother, you're back!"

"Xiao Long, Xiao Ting!" Yi Tian greeted them with a smile.

Just then, a gentle woman in her thirties emerged from the house—his mother, Su Yue'e.

"Xiao Tian, why are you so late? Don't you know how dangerous the mountains are at night? You worried your mother sick," she scolded, though her words brimmed with concern.

"Don't worry, Mother. I only wandered the outskirts, not even venturing deep into the range. I happened upon a blood deer and lost track of time."

Yi Tian dropped the deer to the ground with a thud, sending up a cloud of dust.

Seeing the game, Su Yue'e was overjoyed. She quickly instructed Xiao Long, who was poking curiously around the carcass, "Go and ask Aunt Tian and Aunt Hua to come help."

"Okay!" Xiao Long dashed off at once.

Before long, two sturdy women—Aunt Tian and Aunt Hua, who had long looked after Yi Tian's family—arrived. Without a word, they set to work, carrying the deer to a flat stone by the house. With practiced skill, they wielded their boning and cleaver knives, expertly butchering the animal, cleaning the organs, and cutting the meat into neat slabs, revealing the bones beneath.

Xiao Long and Xiao Ting watched with wide-eyed curiosity, thrilled by their brother's impressive catch.

Yi Tian's mother had already lit a fire, preparing to smoke the meat overnight for preservation.

Soon, the deer was completely butchered, and even the velvet was carefully separated. As a token of gratitude, Su Yue'e gave each woman fifty pounds of venison, which they accepted with delight. Yi Tian also sent Xiao Long to deliver thirty pounds each to Uncle Hong, Uncle Qing, and two other men.

That evening, the house was filled with the aroma of roasting meat. Xiao Long and Xiao Ting laughed and ate bowl after bowl, ravenous as wolves. Eventually, Yi Tian and his mother had to restrain the children from overeating—venison was a powerful tonic, rich in energy, and excessive consumption could cause nosebleeds or other discomforts.

Sure enough, that night neither child could sleep. Their bodies felt warm, their spirits alert, and they tossed restlessly, unable to find rest.

In his own room, Yi Tian too could feel the energy from the venison coursing through his body, washing away his fatigue and slowly strengthening his physique. The effect, though real, was subtle and required years of regular consumption to truly build one's strength.

"If only I had a cultivation method, the refining would be much faster," Yi Tian thought with some regret. With the right technique, he could absorb the venison's essence several times faster, rapidly building his bones and sinews. As it was, his family would need two or three months—or more—to fully digest the energy from the deer.

Yet he had no choice. Though mature for his age, Yi Tian was only thirteen. The tribe's rules allowed entry to the ancestral temple and the selection of a cultivation method only at fourteen; before then, children learned only basic lore at the temple.

"Just five more months until the ancestral festival—then I can finally choose a cultivation technique," Yi Tian thought, filled with longing and curiosity. To someone who carried memories from another world, the legendary arts of cultivation were irresistibly alluring. In the tribe, the strongest could lift cauldrons weighing thousands of pounds, and even the weakest warriors boasted the strength of a thousand, capable of battling savage beasts.

As Yi Tian pondered these things, a lump of silvery, luminous clay—shimmering like liquid mercury dotted with countless starlike flecks—crept from beneath the fur-covered stone bed. It inched up the edge toward him.

Yi Tian glanced at it without surprise, paying it almost no mind. This extraordinary clay possessed a trace of sentience and the innate ability to imitate flowers or rocks, which Yi Tian had discovered during a hunting trip. When first capturing it, he had nearly been drained dry as it absorbed his blood, but in the end, it became something like a second body for him, allowing his consciousness to inhabit it at will.

At first, Yi Tian believed it to be a treasure, but after much study, he concluded it was simply a peculiar kind of clay—useful, perhaps, but with no clear purpose for now.

At his mental command, what he called "Stardust Clay" immediately transformed into a fist-sized stone, cold and hard in his palm, indistinguishable from any ordinary rock. In the next moment, it changed again, becoming a sprig of grass, vibrant with life.

Under Yi Tian's will, the Stardust Clay could take on the form of any common object, living or not—so long as it had previously come into contact with it. That, he had discovered, was its limitation.