After washing up and dressing, August made his way downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house, anchoring him momentarily in the illusion of normalcy. But even the familiar couldn't hide how surreal everything felt. The kitchen looked the same—cozy, sunlit, lived-in—like walking through a memory sharpened by time and sorrow.
His mother stood at the stove, her back to him, humming a soft tune as she cooked breakfast. When she turned around, her face lit up with surprise.
"August? You're up early!" she said, setting the pan aside.
August hesitated. She looked younger than he remembered—less tired, more vibrant. Her silver-streaked hair shimmered faintly, a subtle sign of spiritual energy cultivated over the years. His father, seated at the table behind a crisp newspaper, looked up as well. He bore the same streaks of silver, though fainter. His energy was slightly stronger—he'd always taken cultivation more seriously—but both of them were still low-tier cultivators. Even so, they had something rare.
They were Dao Companions.
August's chest tightened. In his original world, love had always seemed fragile, temporary. But here, his parents were not just partners—they were spiritually bonded, their union a product of shared growth and cultivation. A Dao Union. Their lives were woven together by more than vows or legality; they had grown stronger side by side, evolving together in body, mind, and soul.
His mother crossed the kitchen and embraced him, her warmth grounding him. The spiritual energy in her hug was faint but tangible, and it seeped into his skin like gentle sunlight.
"You look exhausted," she said softly, brushing his hair back. "Did you have a bad dream?"
August hesitated, then nodded. "I... felt like I lived an entire other life."
Her eyes lingered on his face for a moment, concern flickering behind her gentle smile. "Well, dreams can feel real sometimes. You're on the cusp of a new beginning—it's only natural to feel strange."
He smiled weakly and moved to sit at the table. His father folded the newspaper and set it down.
"Son," he said, voice low and firm, "today's your Awakening ceremony. Are you ready?."
August nodded. In this world, the Awakening was a pivotal moment—a sacred rite of passage when a person's spiritual roots were revealed. It determined not only how they would cultivate, but how far they could go. Talent, affinity, potential—it all became clear in that moment.
His memories of this world confirmed what his parents said. In this world, he had already completed high school, where along with the usual curriculum—Math, Science, English, History, Geography—students were taught Cultivation Basics, Spiritual Theory, and the Fundamentals of Energy Manipulation. And at the core of it all was the language of the Cultivation Realm.
The Celestial Tongue.
Unlike English, the Celestial Tongue couldn't be perfectly translated. Its characters were alive with intent, and its meaning shifted with the will of the speaker. Cultivation techniques were written in it, and even slight mistranslations could cripple or corrupt a spell. But August, thanks to the memories of this world's version of him, was fluent.
He picked at his breakfast, his thoughts swirling. Beyond the Awakening, the next step was university. In this world, your academic and cultivation paths were intertwined, with the most prestigious institutions requiring a delicate balance of both. His grades from high school had been good, though not exceptional. August was intelligent, but his mind had often wandered—preoccupied with the mundane, and the weight of something he couldn't name. Yet, the Awakening could change everything. If his spiritual roots were strong, he could potentially earn a scholarship to one of the elite cultivation Universities, bypassing the need for a traditional university altogether. The pressure weighed on him like an invisible mantle.
Cultivation was a long and treacherous climb—an ascent through realms that not only marked a cultivator's power, but also their understanding of the world. It began with the Spirit Gathering Realm, where the first stirrings of energy gathered within the body. Then came the Foundation Building Realm, where a cultivator used their condensed essence to carve a foundation which will sustain their future growth. Each stage was a metamorphosis, a shedding of limitations, until they reached the Golden Core Formation and Nascent Soul Realms. At these heights, mortals transcended their earthly bounds. Few ever reached these realms, but those who did were revered—becoming guardians of cities, sect leaders, or solitary sages whose very presence bent the wind.
August wasn't sure how far he could climb, but one truth was clear: your roots determined your ceiling. A weak root meant a struggle just to sense energy. A rare, awakened root, however, opened the door to endless possibilities. It meant power.
Spiritual roots came in many forms, each one a unique signature that determined the type of energy a person could harness. There were elemental roots—Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Metal, Lightning, Ice—that shaped a cultivator's affinities and abilities. Some were born with hybrid roots, rare combinations that allowed them to control multiple elements in harmony. These hybrids were typically stronger, though the most coveted were the abstract roots—Light, Shadow, even Time and Space. These mysterious roots were both a blessing and a curse; while they held incredible potential, finding suitable cultivation techniques was an arduous task. Many cultivators with such roots sought out the vast world of cultivation, hoping to join sects or uncover opportunities that could help them master their gifts.
To complicate matters further, spiritual roots were graded into four distinct levels—Low, Medium, High, and Peak. The higher the grade, the greater the cultivator's potential. Hybrid and abstract roots were generally stronger than single element roots of the same grade.
August's father, noticing his son's introspection, cleared his throat and spoke with a gentle firmness that seemed to carry the weight of his own journey. "Today is a big day, son. But remember, no matter what your roots are, it's your dedication and hard work that will define your path. The universe does not owe you a favor because of your potential. It's what you do with it that truly counts."
August nodded, understanding that his father's words were more than just reassurance—they were the distilled wisdom of a man who had found his place in this world of power and wonder. His parents had cultivated together for years, their bond as much a testament to their mutual support as it was to their individual strengths. They had built a life in this new world, a life that August had never known—but now, it was his turn to find his place within it.
His father had a medium grade metal root, which explained the sharpness in his gaze and the rigidity in his posture. The metal element was known for its resilience and its ability to cut through obstacles, and it was clear that he had embodied its qualities. His mother, on the other hand, had a low grade nature root, an offshoot of the Earth element. This meant she could manipulate the very fabric of the world around her, coaxing plants to grow with a gentle whisper and calming even the most tempestuous of spirits. Her touch was soft, yet her power resonated with the unyielding strength of the earth itself.
August took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. In this world, everyone had a spirit root. It was a fundamental part of existence, a piece of the cosmic fabric woven into every living being. These roots determined not just one's cultivation potential, but also their very essence. They influenced personalities, talents, and even the course of one's life. A person's root was like a compass pointing them toward their destined path, and it was believed that by understanding and nurturing it, one could unlock their true self.
Finishing his breakfast with a mix of excitement and trepidation, August felt the warmth of his mother's hand on his shoulder. "Your father and I will be with you every step of the way," she said, her eyes sparkling with the same anticipation she had felt when she had undergone her own Awakening.
His father pushed back his chair with a nod. "Indeed, It's time. Let's go"