" Gray immortal" [] WWxNH []The untamed.

1.Orphan of the shadows.

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*Chapter 1: Orphan of the Shadows*

The streets of Yiling were a maze of narrow alleyways and broken-down homes, but to the boy known as Wei Ying, it was the only home he had left. His parents were gone—lost to a tragedy that happened too swiftly for him to comprehend, leaving behind only the emptiness of a life once filled with warmth.

Wei Ying sat on the steps of an abandoned shrine, his knees drawn to his chest as he gazed at the sunset fading into twilight. The streets were growing colder, both in temperature and in spirit. Since his parents’ passing, the world seemed harder, less forgiving. He often felt invisible, a shadow among the crowds.

*“Maybe that’s what I’ve become,”* he thought to himself, curling his fingers into his sleeves. The faint memory of his parents’ voices echoed in his mind, but they were ghosts now, just like everything else.

The night was quiet, except for the occasional rustle of leaves or the distant clatter of a cart. But that night, something different stirred in the air. A faint pulse, like a heartbeat, thrummed from somewhere deep within the city. Wei Ying, curious as ever, stood up and followed the pull. It felt instinctual, as though something unseen was calling him forward.

He wandered down a path he hadn’t explored before, until he stumbled upon a group of men. They surrounded a lone figure, who was lying on the ground, his face bloodied and bruised. The man was dressed in dark robes, and the air around him was thick with an energy that made Wei Ying’s skin prickle.

“*Resentment,*” one of the men spat, raising a club. “*This is what happens to those who practice black magic.*”

Wei Ying’s heart pounded in his chest as he watched from the shadows, his small frame hidden behind the corner of a crumbling wall. The man on the ground groaned, but he didn’t cry out. Wei Ying could see the faint flicker of something—*something dark*—coiling around him like a living thing.

The men beat him relentlessly, but Wei Ying’s eyes were drawn not to the violence, but to the way the energy around the man seemed to respond. *It’s protecting him,* Wei Ying realized. The energy felt alive, like it was waiting for someone to take control of it.

Without understanding why, Wei Ying felt a connection to it. His mind buzzed with possibilities. If he could master this strange force—this *resentment*—perhaps he could protect himself from the harshness of the world. Perhaps he could make sure no one would ever hurt him like they hurt this man.

He clenched his fists, swallowing the fear rising in his throat. He had to be careful, though. It was clear that the world hated those who practiced this kind of magic. He would have to keep it hidden, just like the bruised man had tried to do.

As the men dragged their victim away, leaving the alley silent once more, Wei Ying stared after them, the weight of his new understanding settling over him like a shadow. He had seen something powerful—something dangerous—and it had called to him.

That night, Wei Ying didn’t sleep. He sat outside the shrine, the image of the dark energy swirling in his mind. He felt the world shift beneath him, as though his future had already begun to take a different path.

: The Burial Mounds.

The days that followed felt like a blur. Wei Ying wandered further from the streets of Yiling, each step taking him deeper into the unknown. He had no home, no family, and yet the world seemed full of hidden places and secrets waiting to be uncovered.

It wasn’t long before he found himself at the edge of a desolate, rocky landscape—the Burial Mounds. The air here was thick with an unsettling stillness, and the land itself felt cursed, abandoned by the living. But where others might have felt fear, Wei Ying felt something else: *acceptance*.

The Burial Mounds were a place of the dead, of forgotten souls and lingering resentment. To the world, it was a place to be avoided, but to Wei Ying, it felt like home. He could feel the energy here, the same dark force he had seen around the beaten man in Yiling. It whispered to him, promising strength if he could learn how to wield it.

He walked deeper into the mountains, his breath coming in shallow bursts as the air grew colder. The mists swirled around him, and shadows flickered in the corners of his vision, but he didn’t stop. The pull of the resentment was stronger here, almost like a heartbeat echoing in the depths of the earth.

At the very end of the Burial Mounds, nestled behind a seemingly impenetrable barrier, was a mountain he couldn’t see but could sense. Something ancient resided there—something powerful. But Wei Ying wasn’t ready for it yet. His instincts told him so. For now, he would focus on the power of the resentment that surrounded him.

For months, he stayed in the Burial Mounds, learning to listen to the whispers of the energy around him. He practiced in secret, bending the force of resentment to his will. It responded to him, just as he had hoped. In time, he became one with the darkness, mastering the ability to control the very force that others feared.

But even as he grew stronger, he never forgot the lesson from Yiling: *This power must remain hidden.*

: The Day of Adoption.

Years passed in solitude, with only the cold mists of the Burial Mounds to keep Wei Ying company. His heart had hardened, and his once-childish curiosity had been replaced by a quiet resolve. But his fate was about to change when he met a man named Jiang Fengmian.

Fengmian was a kind man, dressed in the robes of the Jiang sect, and he had come to the Burial Mounds on a mission. When he saw Wei Ying, he didn’t turn away in disgust or fear like others would have. Instead, he reached out a hand.

“*You don’t belong here,*” Fengmian said softly. “*Come with me.*”

For the first time in years, Wei Ying felt warmth—something he had long forgotten. He hesitated, but the kindness in Fengmian’s eyes was impossible to resist. And so, he followed him, leaving the Burial Mounds behind.

Yet, even as he left, the resentment stayed with him, a quiet reminder of the power that had become a part of him. A power he could never fully abandon.

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