The evening sun hung low, staining the horizon in amber and crimson as Polyfalls Yen made his way down the quiet dirt path leading home. The sounds of the academy — the roaring crowd, the metallic clang of battle, the gasps that followed blood — all faded into distant echoes. What remained was the dull ache in his bones, the trembling of his fists, and the whisper of victory that still lingered faintly in his chest.
He didn't feel triumphant. Victory had come, yes — but it came wrapped in violence.
His opponent's bones cracking under his fists replayed again and again in his mind.
For a moment during that match, it wasn't Jiang Ren's friend he saw in front of him. It was every mocking face, every sneer that called him "coward," "demon seed," "failure."
And when the senior had stopped the match, he had realized — he didn't stop because he pitied the boy.
He stopped because Polyfalls wouldn't have.
When he reached the wooden gate of his small family home, the faint smell of cooked millet and herbal tea drifted through the air. His mother's voice came from inside, trembling and half-angry, half-afraid.
"Yen! You're back?"
He hesitated at the threshold. His mother, Li Hua, was already there, her eyes swollen from worry. Beside her stood his father, an aging cultivator with a limp from an old battle, his eyes firm but soft with relief.
"You disappeared for three days," his father said quietly. "Your mother thought—"
"I thought you were dead!" Li Hua burst out, clutching him by the arm. "When we heard about the arena, about what you did—"
Polyfalls lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry. I had to prepare."
His father studied him. "Prepare for what? Madness? Or something greater?"
There was a pause. The flickering lantern between them cast long shadows across their faces. Polyfalls finally whispered, "For power. For understanding."
His mother sighed shakily and drew him into her arms. "Whatever it is, just promise me you won't lose yourself to it."
For a moment, he didn't know how to answer. Because part of him already had.
That night, when the house finally went quiet and the moonlight spilled through the window, Polyfalls sat cross-legged on the floor of his small room. His breath came steady and calm. He could feel it again — that burning tide beneath his skin. His spiritual essence flowed like molten gold within his meridians, still turbulent from battle.
He closed his eyes.
"Demon Whale," he called inwardly, his spiritual sense drifting into the dark depths of his consciousness.
From the abyss of his mind came the low, resonant rumble of laughter.
"Finally, you call. I thought victory had made you forget your true path, little one, Said in a teasing tone."
"I didn't win for glory," Polyfalls muttered. "I just… didn't want to be weak anymore."
The voice of the Demon Whale rumbled again, deep as thunder.
"Strength without balance is destruction. But destruction, when controlled, becomes rebirth. You've touched that line before — the boundary between creation and ruin. It is time you learn why it exists."
A faint glow formed around Polyfalls. His consciousness drifted into the mental training ground — a boundless ocean of black water beneath a twilight sky. Floating above the waves was the massive silhouette of the Demon Whale, its eyes like twin crimson suns.
"You wish to cultivate the Soul Flames — the fusion of Yin and Yang. But to do so, you must first understand the essence of both."
The whale's massive fin stirred the sea, and ripples of energy spread through the mental realm.
"Yin — the dark, still breath of existence. It is cold, receptive, patient. It is the calm before a storm, the silence before thought.
Yang — the blazing surge of motion and will. It is fire, passion, defiance. When Yin and Yang clash, the universe trembles. But when they unite..."
The whale's eyes glowed brighter.
"They give birth to Soul Flame — the spirit's truest light, and the cultivator's greatest weapon."
Polyfalls opened his palms. He could see it now — the faint motes of black and white energy within his own dantian. The Yin was faint and cold, swirling in slow rhythm. The Yang pulsed like fire, wild and unrestrained.
"I can feel them," he whispered. "But they're… separate."
"As all opposites are at first," the Demon Whale replied. "You will use your spiritual essence as the bridge. Ten drops shall be enough — if your will does not shatter."
Polyfalls inhaled sharply. Ten drops was a massive cost; his spiritual essence wasn't infinite. But if he hesitated now, he would remain forever trapped between two incomplete paths — neither demonic nor divine.
He nodded. "I'm ready."
The sea beneath him began to churn violently. Polyfalls pressed his hands together, drawing upon his spiritual essence. One by one, ten shimmering motes of golden energy separated from his core and flowed into the Yin and Yang forces within him. The moment they touched, pain exploded through every nerve in his body.
"Ahh—!" He gasped, his body trembling. Half his spirit felt frozen; the other half burned like molten steel. His veins alternated between ice and flame, balance and chaos.
"Do not resist!" the Demon Whale's voice thundered. "Let them clash! Let them know each other through conflict!"
Polyfalls bit down hard on his lip. He could feel the opposing energies tearing at him from within — Yin trying to drown the fire, Yang trying to burn the cold away.
But slowly, through agony, he began to understand.
"This is balance," he thought. "Not silence. Not peace. But tension — harmony born of opposition."
He opened his eyes, and the world within his mind blazed with color.
The swirling black and white energies suddenly coiled together, twisting, merging — not annihilating each other, but dancing. From their fusion, something new emerged — a flame that burned black and red, soft yet alive, coiling like a spiral of dusk and dawn.
The Soul Flame.
Polyfalls felt his spirit resonate. His pain dulled, replaced by a profound calm that pulsed with restrained power. He lifted his hand, and the black-red spiral flame hovered above his palm, flickering gently.
The Demon Whale's vast form lowered until its shadow fell over him.
"You have done what few can, child of chaos," the whale rumbled. "The flame you hold is the first step toward dominion. Yin and Yang now dwell within you as one. But beware — Soul Flames consume not only your enemies… they also hunger for your essence."
Polyfalls nodded. "I understand. Power has a price."
"Good. Then burn wisely."
The whale's form faded into mist, leaving Polyfalls alone on the still ocean. The mental realm dissolved, and he returned to his quiet room, drenched in sweat. The faint glow of the Soul Flame lingered for a few moments before dissolving into his chest.
He could feel it — faint warmth in his veins, like the whisper of dawn after a storm.
Outside, the moon hung full and bright. His parents slept peacefully in the next room, unaware that their son had just crossed the boundary between man and myth.
Polyfalls looked down at his trembling hands. "So this… is the true beginning," he murmured. "The balance between destruction and creation."
And somewhere deep within his spirit, the Demon Whale's laughter echoed softly — proud, approving, but distant.
"Remember, little one… even balance can burn."
Polyfalls smiled faintly. "Then let me be the one to master the flame."
He sat there until dawn broke — meditating, breathing, feeling the pulse of Yin and Yang within his spirit.
The soft black-red flame continued to swirl quietly in his soul, waiting for the day it would be unleashed upon the world.