The vast cosmos was broadly divided into two great territories: the Outer Realms and the Inner Realms.
The expanse of the Outer Realms was vast beyond measure, seemingly limitless to most cultivators. Though teeming with countless realms, the majority were inhabited by low-level practitioners. The strongest experts rarely exceeded the Divine Transformation Realm, and even those few often sought refuge in the Inner Realms, where resources and environments were far superior for cultivation.
Only a handful of realms in the Outer Realms could sustain such powerhouses. These realms formed the collective known as the Outer Divine Sector, each capable of nurturing and retaining experts at the Divine Transformation Realm. Among these realms stood the Sea and Mountain Realm, home to the Shadowclaw Sect—a middling power compared to others in the sector.
Rumors whispered that the Sea and Mountain Realm housed five Divine Transformation Realm experts. One of them was said to be the master of the Azure Dragon Monarch, founder of the Azure Dragon Sect—a Heavenly Tribulation powerhouse, just one step below the Divine Transformation Realm.
The cosmos was boundless, but the path of cultivation—though obscure—followed ancient laws. All who aspired to defy age, to bend the heavens, to become more than mortal, began at the foot of the same mountain. And so the Mortal Path unfolded, layer by layer, each realm a crucible.
Every cultivator's journey began in darkness.
At the first realm, The Spirit Awakening Realm, one learned to sense the breath of the world—the ambient spiritual Qi that drifted unseen. With it came strength beyond mortal ken: bones hardened, the senses sharpened, the blood stirred with power.
At this level, cultivators could ignite fire with a gesture, leap rooftops with ease, and resist the bite of steel and frost. But they remained fragile, their foundations unformed, like seeds buried shallow in rocky soil.
Few lived past 120 years, their bodies unable to contain the slow influx of power without breaking.
To build upon unstable ground was to invite collapse. Thus came the second stage: Foundation Establishment.
Here, the cultivator tempered their core, stabilizing the Dantian, the spiritual sea within the lower abdomen. Only then could they truly begin their climb.
By aligning spirit and breath, they began to defy gravity itself. Though crude, short-range flight became possible, guided by will and Qi alone. Magical treasures, once inert, could now be wielded with intent.
Some took to crafting spirit tools, others learned formation arts, but all felt time slow. Their bodies aged no longer like those of mortals.
Lifespan extended to 200 years—yet for those seeking the stars, this was barely enough to blink.
Once the foundation was laid, the cultivator's Qi no longer drifted aimlessly. It turned inward, condensing—compressing over time into a radiant orb: the Golden Core.
This third realm marked the birth of true power. The Core resonated with the cultivator's elemental affinity, awakening talents hidden in blood and soul.
Firestorm spells, sword beams that split mountains, and armored spirits became common sights. Cultivators forged their flying swords, personalized weapons bound to their essence.
It was said that a single Core Formation expert could defend a sect, and some reigned over lesser realms as lords. Yet they were still mortal.
Their lifespan reached 500 years, their hearts beating strong and slow like old mountains, but death still waited—patient and sure.
At the fourth realm, the Golden Core did not simply grow—it become something different.
It unraveled and reformed into a tiny infant formed of pure soul essence: the Nascent Soul. It was a second self, seated deep within, capable of projecting outward, of roaming the battlefield even as the body lay shattered.
Cultivators at this stage were resistant to aging, nearly immune to poison or disease, and capable of surviving what should have been fatal injuries.
But the burden was immense. Their will had to withstand soul backlash, and many perished trying to birth their spiritual double.
Those who succeeded gained near-legendary status. Their lifespan extended to 1,000 years, and some even more.
To ascend further, one had to risk obliteration.
The fifth realm was called Heavenly Tribulation, not in metaphor, but in blood and lightning. Here, cultivators began to temper both body and soul under the wrath of heaven itself.
Each tribulation was unique: some endured blazing infernos, others faced illusory torment, and many withstood divine lightning that sundered mountains. With every trial survived, their existence grew more inhuman, their aura more oppressive.
They could manipulate the world itself—summoning storms, shifting gravity, even bending light and space in small domains of their control. But every step forward drew heaven's ire.
Few survived three tribulations. Those who did were monsters among men.
Lifespan reached 3,000 years, and yet, the sky loomed ever darker above their heads.
The sixth and final realm of mortal cultivation was Divine Transformation.
Here, the Nascent Soul shed its husk. The cultivator relinquished mortal flesh, merging soul and Qi into a radiant, transcendent being known as a Divine Avatar.
This was no longer mere power—it was semi-immortality.
They could stretch their divine sense across continents, regrow limbs, and wield heavenly flames that devoured the essence of all things.
But there was one final gate: the Ninefold Heavenly Tribulation. It was not just a trial—it was judgment. To pass it was to become more than mortal, to ascend beyond reincarnation into godhood.
To fail?
To become only dust on the cosmic wind.
Those few who stood at the threshold, trembling before that final descent of heaven's wrath, were the pride of the outer realms, the terror of sects, and the hope of ancient bloodlines.
Their lifespan reached 5,000 years, yet immortality still lay just beyond their grasp.