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Rise of the FU Master

Sheung
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Synopsis
Sheung Longyao never imagined that an old wooden calligraphy brush and a dusty journal would catapult him into a forgotten world of Taoist magic, ancient sects, and mystical cultivation. When he’s suddenly transported to the elite Celestial Academy—a school for the world’s most powerful magical families—he finds himself assigned to a house no one respects: the long-abandoned Taoist Sect. Mocked, underestimated, and alone, Sheung discovers that he carries the bloodline of a legendary dragon cultivator—and the last living connection to a spiritual lineage the world tried to erase. Guided by the sarcastic and mysterious Brush Spirit, Sheung begins to learn the lost art of Fu talismans—magical calligraphy fueled by heart, spirit, and will. But the academy is full of rival heirs, deadly challenges, and ancient secrets that even the gods fear. To survive, Sheung must rebuild the Taoist Sect from the ashes, face corrupt nobles, befriend unlikely allies, and unlock the true power of his dragonblood. Because hidden deep within the mountains... something old is waking. And it remembers his name.
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Chapter 1 - The Night of Fire and Blood

Thunder raged over blackened tiles as the ancestral temple shook to its foundations. Blinding flashes of lightning revealed swirling combatants locked in a deadly struggle. Cloaked figures in crimson hoods wielded blades crackling with demonic sigils, surging forward like a tide.

At the center of the chaos stood Tian Longyao, robes torn, hair flying wild around his fierce gaze. His hands danced in a blur, drawing gleaming strokes in the air with a calligraphy brush that pulsed golden against the darkness.

A monstrous demon lunged—a beast of shadow and red eyes, its jaws snapping open to consume Tian whole. But Tian's brush flashed downward. A wall of golden script exploded into being, crashing into the demon and pinning it against a pillar as sealing glyphs burned into its smoky flesh.

"Tian, go!" roared an elderly voice from behind him. The Grandmaster—white-haired, blood streaking his beard—stumbled, clutching his side. "The Heart Palace must remain hidden!"

"No, Father! I won't leave you here!" Tian bellowed, twisting aside as another cultist lunged with a spear wreathed in sinister black flame.

Steel rang against steel as Tian's brush hardened into a gleaming spear of gold light. He parried and thrust, each movement sending shockwaves through the floor. Another demon shrieked and lunged for the Grandmaster, but Tian blurred forward, his spear exploding into swirling runes that carved into the demon's essence, scattering it like ashes.

Behind him, the cultists chanted faster, forming a blood circle. Dark magic whirled into a storm, pressing closer.

"Tian—NOW!" shouted the Grandmaster, staggering toward a lacquered brush case lying amid shattered tiles. "Don't let them take it!"

Tian's eyes gleamed with fierce resolve. He dashed to the case, snatching up the ancient brush as crimson sigils clawed at the air around him.

He whirled to face his father, voice cracking: "If I do this… I might not return."

The Grandmaster's eyes shone with tears. "A true heir of the Dragonblood sacrifices for the Tao. You must protect the Heart Palace… and your son's future."

Tian raised the brush high. Divine radiance erupted from its tip, spiraling into a great circle overhead. Thunder cracked like a celestial drum as calligraphic strokes filled the air, weaving a dome of golden light.

The cultists screamed as they were hurled back by an invisible force. The demonic presence recoiled, hissing in fury.

"Dragonblood Seal—Final Script!" Tian shouted.

A column of golden light slammed into the temple floor, cracking marble and stone. Runes spiraled inward, forming a spinning vortex that drew in energy, shadows—and Tian himself.

The Grandmaster shielded his eyes from the blinding glow. When the light finally faded, Tian was gone. The cultists were nowhere to be seen.

The only sound was the hiss of rain pouring through the shattered roof.

Slowly, trembling, the old Grandmaster crawled across the cracked tiles and gathered up the lacquered brush, now glowing faintly in the darkness.

He whispered, "Forgive me, my son… May your spirit find refuge… until the day he is ready to bring you back."