Inside Gu An's inner cosmos, the lone star shone faintly, wrapped in gentle moon-glow. Tidal rhythm pulsed — slow, ancient, persistent. A soft warmth flowed through the void like the first whisper of dawn.
Then —
A flicker.
Tiny specks of light gathered, like dust kissed by breath.
Not born through miracle.
Not forced by divine will.
They appeared because conditions allowed life.
Microscopic bodies, primitive and fragile, floated in the embryonic atmosphere of Gu An's inner world.
Not visible to mortal senses, but to him they were a symphony.
Slow-moving. Aimless. But existing.
A universe had taken its first breath.
Gu An closed his eyes, expression calm — yet beneath the serenity, a ripple of emotion stirred. A creator's joy. Quiet. Deep.
"Life… is patient. It arrives not when called, but when the world is ready."
Balance held. No forces clashed. No karma stirred.
The cosmos expanded by a fraction of a fraction.
And somewhere far beyond mortal eyes, a new era began — tiny and eternal.
Mountain Trial — A Mortal's First Spark
Rustling leaves. Evening light cutting through branches like molten gold.
Lin Xuan stumbled through the undergrowth, panting. Clothes torn, sweat dripping, hands scraped. Survival was not elegant — it was stubborn.
His fingers brushed a stone embedded in moss.
A faint silver glow pulsed within it — gentle, natural, unforced.
A Vein Stone.
His eyes widened, disbelief trembling in them.
"I… found one."
Not handed. Not gifted. Earned.
He clenched it in both hands, breath shaking.
Gu An appeared beside him silently, like mist materializing.
"You see?" Gu An asked quietly. "Effort leaves footprints. The world eventually steps on them."
Lin Xuan swallowed hard, eyes moist.
"…Thank you."
"I did nothing," Gu An replied. "This is your first step."
Lin Xuan straightened, jaw set again.
He had one stone. Four remained.
But confidence — that was new.
Heaven's Glance — Pressure Without Shape
A breeze flowed through the woods, gentle yet ancient. Leaves rustled as though bowing.
Gu An paused.
Space trembled lightly — a ripple of cosmic attention. Not aggressive. Not hostile. Merely observing.
A divine instinct brushed against him, testing the fabric of his presence.
Heaven whispered — not in words, but in intent:
What are you? Why do you walk unseen?
Gu An stood still.
Not resisting. Not responding.
Simply existing calmly.
No power leaked. No aura rose.
He remained nothing — and because of that, ungraspable.
The pressure receded slowly, uncertain, like a hunter passing by a stone that might be a silent beast… or simply a stone.
Heaven moved on.
Gu An exhaled softly.
Balance preserved.
A Cave Forgotten by Time
Night approached. Stars flickered above like cold witnesses.
A faint fluctuation caught Gu An's attention — a ripple behind a waterfall. Old, untouched. Quiet like an abandoned memory.
Gu An pushed aside vines and stepped inside.
Dust. Faint spirit markings. A stone slab cracked by time. No treasures. No glowing weapons. No legendary bones.
Instead —
A weathered jade slip.
A cultivation note written by a nameless predecessor:
"I studied qi as wind, blood as river, spirit as flame. None reached Dao.
But balance… balance is where life clings. When extremes rot, harmony births eternity."
Gu An touched the slip.
Not power — insight flowed.
A mortal's enlightenment. Imperfect. Humble. Real.
"Even those who failed left stepping stones."
He stored the jade gently, as one honors a forgotten scholar.
Heaven's Chosen Awakens
Elsewhere in the trial ground, light flared.
A majestic hum rolled across the mountain. Clouds swirled like a celestial vortex.
Chu Feng stood at the center, clothes fluttering, aura rising.
Golden threads spiraled around him — a divine resonance.
His bones glowed faintly. His meridians vibrated like strings of a heavenly zither.
"Heaven acknowledges!"
"He's already touching spirit resonance!"
Disciples watched in awe.
Chu Feng raised his hand. The world's qi bent slightly, flowing like servants responding to their rightful lord.
He smiled, confident, radiant.
A boy blessed by fate.
A star shining in daylight.
Only one figure didn't look.
Gu An continued walking deeper into the forest, expression unchanged.
He didn't need Heaven's light.
He would be the quiet darkness that eventually held all stars.