In the sprawling training grounds of the Seven Strike Martial Sect's inner court, disciples scattered across the open arena practiced diligently beneath the sun's steady glare.
Qi-infused fists struck dummies, swords sliced the air in crisp arcs, and occasional bursts of qi energy echoed like thunderclaps. Amidst all this, three disciples had grouped up near one another—Yun Shi, Liang Yu, and Wan Ruo.
Their voices were low, meant for each other's ears, yet loud enough for someone not too far to catch their words.
A little distance away, Zheng Xie practiced in solitude. His black robes flowed with each motion as he unleashed precise strikes onto a battered training dummy.
Wan Ruo glanced over at him, then leaned closer to Yun Shi and hissed, "Did you hear about that bastard at the Birch City festival? The one who had two beauties swooning at the same time?"
Yun Shi cracked his neck, a slow nod following. "Who hasn't? The entire sect's talking about it. They say he was in black robes, gliding around like a noble phoenix, charming both his childhood sweetheart and some mysterious vixen. There are even stories now—someone's writing romantic fiction about it."
Liang Yu chuckled, stretching his arms behind his head. "In those stories, he's a tragic hero, torn between duty and love. A poor soul caught between the girl from his past and the beauty of his present. So dramatic."
Wan Ruo and Yun Shi shot him scowls sharp enough to cut steel. Cracking their knuckles in unison, they took a step toward him.
Liang Yu's laughter died instantly. "Wait—wait! It was a joke! I'm joking! Don't kill me!"
He backed away, raising his hands defensively. Despite being a capable fighter, even he knew when the odds weren't in his favor.
Wan Ruo snorted and turned away with mock disdain. "Anyway, if I find that bastard, I'll crush his face into the dirt. Scum like him gives the rest of us men a bad name."
Liang Yu muttered under his breath, "Coming from you, that's rich…"
Wan Ruo's head snapped back. He lunged, grabbing Liang Yu's collar and twisting it into a makeshift noose. Yun Shi quickly stepped between them.
"Enough. No point fighting each other when the real enemy's over there," Yun Shi said, gesturing subtly toward Zheng Xie.
The two separated reluctantly, exchanging narrowed glances before returning to their original positions.
Wan Ruo crossed his arms with a dramatic sigh. "This is what I've been saying all along. We should've started Operation: Sabotage before this got out of hand."
Yun Shi scratched his head. "In our defense, he seemed like a loyal guy. Reliable. Honest. How were we supposed to know he had another… partner? Tsk. Every good-looking guy is secretly a villain. We learned that the hard way."
Wan Ruo opened his mouth to continue his tirade, but then he froze.
A shadow loomed behind him.
A heavy, almost suffocating presence settled over the trio.
Slowly, Wan Ruo turned around—and came face to face with Zheng Xie.
Crimson eyes stared into his soul, sharp and amused. A smirk touched Zheng Xie's lips as he tilted his head ever so slightly.
"Wan Ruo," he said smoothly, "you were saying something. Why don't you say it to my face, you bastard?"
The tone was light. His words were not.
Wan Ruo stiffened, but then, surprisingly, didn't back down. He jabbed his finger toward Zheng Xie's chest.
"You know what I was going to say! You liar! You said you were headed back to your cottage to rest. And the next thing we hear, you're drifting down a river on a boat with some blonde temptress—while also supposedly spending time with Sister Ling Xue?!" His voice cracked with disbelief. "How the hell do you explain that?!"
Zheng Xie's smile only widened as he calmly placed a hand on Wan Ruo's shoulder.
"That's a skill issue," he said, voice silk-smooth. "It's your problem you can't pull it off. Don't blame others for having charisma."
He gave a soft pat on the shoulder and stepped past him, leaving a dumbfounded Wan Ruo rooted to the ground.
Liang Yu leaned over and whispered to Yun Shi, "He seems way too cheerful for someone who just got caught cheating. Are we sure he actually cheated?"
Yun Shi folded his arms, brows furrowed. "Exactly. Something's off. He doesn't have the energy of a guilty man. There's something more to this. Maybe the rumors aren't what they seem."
Wan Ruo, meanwhile, stood dazed in place, watching Zheng Xie go back to pounding the dummy as if nothing had happened.
Yun Shi placed a hand on Wan Ruo's shoulder. "Alright, that's enough fun. Let's get serious. Exams are less than two weeks away."
Wan Ruo sighed, then muttered bitterly, "Don't think I'm going to forget your betrayal, Zheng Xie. Not unless you share your techniques with us."
Zheng Xie's voice drifted back lazily, "Just be handsome."
A collective vein throbbed on all three of their foreheads.
Wan Ruo clenched his fists. "One day… one day, I'll beat the arrogance out of him."
Yun Shi nodded solemnly. "I'll help."
Liang Yu raised his hand. "Count me in."
And so, Operation: Beat Zheng Xie was unofficially formed. While in the distance, the youth in question just smiled faintly and went back to training, as if none of their words had ever touched him.
…
As night fell over the Seven Strike Martial Sect. Inside one of the more secluded cottages nestled on the side of the inner court, a lone candle flickered gently—its flame swaying in the darkness.
Within that still room, Zheng Xie sat cross-legged in the center, his figure cloaked in shadows and silence. His back was straight, his breaths slow and rhythmic, and his eyes shut like he was sleeping. But he wasn't.
He was diving inward—rummaging through Wu Zhu's memories, about those countless worlds he had read about.
In five days, the official ceremony to declare Zheng Shuheng—the golden child of the Zheng Family—would be held. A grand celebration. Endless guests. And beneath the glow of lanterns and pleasantries… schemes would simmer.
There would be masks worn and blades hidden beneath smiles.
Zheng Xie knew someone would make a move that day. Someone would try to complicate things. Someone from the top families would reveal more than they intended. That moment, that single ripple in the calm lake, would be the perfect chance to gather dirt. To collect leverage.
But for that, he needed strength.
He opened his eyes slightly, the candlelight reflecting in those blood-red irises. Then shut them once again, taking in a slow breath.
'I have five days. If I can deepen my comprehension… just a little more… then maybe, I can improve the effectiveness of my Soul Path techniques. Maybe… I can even learn to conceal them.'
With his thoughts centered, Zheng Xie began chanting his soul mantra—a single line carved into the essence of his cultivation:
"Even the weakest peasant holds within them a soul vast enough to house countless lives and infinite potential."
He repeated it again and again, the words crawling into his bones, burning into his sea of consciousness.
Then came the first question.
A question so simple it seemed laughable, and yet… it carried the weight of all existence.
"What is a soul?"
A question so small… yet so boundless.
A truth so universal… yet so intimately personal.
Is it a fragment of divine origin? Or is it a mirror, reflecting the shape of what we believe we are?
Zheng Xie's thoughts flowed like a river, unceasing and unending.
Perhaps the soul isn't something to be grasped.
Perhaps it exists only to bewilder us—to dazzle our pitiful mortal minds with its elusive beauty.
Or maybe... maybe we are the soul. Chasing after something that has always been within.
Not a destination. Not a truth to discover.
But a presence.
A recognition.
Before learning of the soul, one must first ask: Who am I?
Am I my thoughts?
Or the thinker of thoughts?
Am I the desire, or the fire that births desire?
Am I the conscious awareness that questions existence… or am I simply the echo of that question?
The body is a tool. A vessel. A husk. It will bleed, rot, and be forgotten.
But the soul?
The soul is the fire that dances within the shell, giving meaning to this empty form… and discarding it without hesitation when it no longer serves.
From the first Eon of Creation to the modern breath of this very night, scholars and cultivators have postulated—The soul is indestructible.
So subtle it escapes notice. So vast it swallows entire philosophies.
A spark that refuses to die.
And in pursuit of immortality, what are cultivators truly chasing?
They seek eternity in form. But eternity already lives in their being.
Isn't the soul already immortal?
Then why do we fight? Why do we bleed and crawl, clawing at Heaven's gates for a sip of eternity?
When it already rests… quietly… within us.
We are all immortals.
Equal not in wealth, not in blood, but in the permanence of the soul.
They say only in death are all men equal.
But that is a lie, isn't it?
Equality lies not in death… but in the soul.
A beggar's soul is as deep as a king's. A peasant's as luminous as a patriarch's.
So why do we weep when a shell breaks?
Why do we mourn when the body fades?
When the true self—vast, ancient, indomitable—remains untouched.
Souls don't die.
They simply… move.
They discard.
They forget.
And they return.
We are immortals not because we cannot die… but because we never truly lived as bodies to begin with.
We all are immortals…
And so Zheng Xie sat, his mind echoing with truths that unraveled endlessly—like threads of silk in a vast, bottomless void.
And deep within him, something stirred… something subtle, profound, and sacred.
The faint shimmer of soul enlightenment.
…
After five long days spent in seclusion Zheng Xie finally stepped beyond the threshold he had long sought.
His comprehension of the Soul Path had advanced.
He was now a Dao Practitioner of the Soul—one who had taken the first true step toward unraveling the mysteries of that elusive, eternal essence. He could now sense the ebb and flow of soul qi around him.
And at the exact time he wanted. Today was the day.
The ceremony where his elder brother—Zheng Shuheng—would officially be declared the heir of the Zheng family.
And Zheng Xie had returned.
The Zheng family estate was abuzz with distant chatter and the scent of burning incense, the atmosphere steeped in anticipation and grandeur. But away from it all, in one of the outer courtyards shaded by flowering plum trees, a black-robed young man sat alone on a stone bench.
His gaze was distant.
Zheng Xie stared at the heavens, watching the clouds drift lazily in endless procession. Their shapes shifted and melted, forming mountains, beasts, and blades before fading again into formless wisps.
A breath left his lips slowly.
Then, a voice called out behind him.
"Zheng Xie…"
It was soft, yet carried the weight of unspoken years.
He blinked, stirred from his stillness, and turned his head with sluggish calm. There stood Zheng Shuheng—his elder brother—dressed in flowing white robes lined with gold, the insignia of the Zheng clan shining at his breast.
Zheng Xie gave a slight nod in greeting, then turned back to the sky. His eyes did not flicker with emotion.
Shuheng did not wait for permission. He stepped forward and sat beside him.
A moment passed.
"So," Shuheng finally spoke, a sigh lacing his words. "How fares your life at the sect? I heard… there was a rather dramatic scandal during the Birch City festival. Quite the tale. I hope you've been enjoying yourself."
Zheng Xie chuckled lightly, without turning. "Surely, Elder Brother doesn't believe every whisper of the wind? You wound me. Your younger brother is a pure-hearted man—unmarred by such petty dalliances. I would never betray the one I love."
Shuheng laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle pat. "Yes, yes, I believe you. I was only teasing… But jokes aside, you must be happy. Today is no small event. You are finally going to acquire what you desired for years. You're free now, aren't you?"
Zheng Xie exhaled. The smile that curled his lips was small—fragile, as though it might shatter if examined too closely.
"Yes, I suppose I am happy. I've waited many years for this day. I thought I'd be overwhelmed with joy, leaping with celebration." His fingers curled slightly. "But now that the moment has come… it feels hollow. As if I've reached for something all my life, only to find smoke in my hands."
Shuheng's gaze softened. He leaned back slightly, watching the sunlight flicker through the leaves above them.
"I understand. The pursuit brings fire, but the arrival often brings cold. It's not uncommon, this feeling. But even so, goals are still worth chasing. Once you reach one, another path always reveals itself. A higher mountain always awaits."
Zheng Xie nodded faintly. "Yes… there is always another mountain."
A moment of silence passed, quiet and thick.
Then Shuheng spoke again, voice gentler now. "You'll have a wife to care for, starting today. A partner to walk beside. But don't forget your roots because of her. Don't let marriage be the wedge that distances you from your family."
Zheng Xie gave a quiet laugh, this one slightly longer, slightly colder. He finally turned to face Shuheng.
"Elder Brother surely jests. This Xie is many things—but one who forgets? Never. Especially not his roots. I remember everything, Shuheng. This Xie never forgets… Never."
Shuheng's smile faltered for a fraction of a second. Something beneath those calm words unnerved him—but he quickly masked the sensation.
"I see," he said, regaining his composure. "Then that's good. Our past shapes us. Mistakes make us stronger—so long as we learn from them. Just know that… whatever path you take, you are still my brother. I only wish the best for you."
Zheng Xie turned away again, eyes drifting toward the blue expanse above.
"And I wish the best for you too, Mr. Patriarch."
Shuheng blinked. "I'm not the patriarch yet. And even if I was, our father still holds the seat."
Zheng Xie smiled faintly, a glimmer of something unreadable flashing behind his crimson eyes.
"Of course. For now…"
The wind blew gently between them, rustling the leaves overhead. In the distance, bells began to chime—signaling the beginning of the ceremony.
Zheng Xie stood slowly, brushing imaginary dust from his robes.
"Well then, Elder Brother," he said, voice cool as the breeze. "Shall we greet our destiny?"
And with that, the two brothers walked side by side, toward the heart of the estate…