The first light of dawn spread across the Azure Spirit Mountains like a gentle brushstroke of gold. The sky awakened in soft layers—amber at the horizon, rose above, and pale blue stretching upward into the heavens. Mist drifted lazily between the rugged cliffs, coiling around ancient pines as if whispering secrets carried for thousands of years.
Birds with iridescent feathers glided through the cool air, their wings leaving faint trails of luminescent qi. Even the streams running between moss-covered stones sparkled with spiritual energy, as though the land itself breathed life.
In the quiet heart of this valley sat a solitary figure.
Wuya.
Eighteen years old.
Black hair falling loosely around his determined eyes.
Clothing simple and worn from training.
On this morning, like countless mornings before it, he sat cross-legged upon a flat stone warmed by the rising sun. His hands rested on his knees, fingers curled, eyes shut tightly as he strained to sense something—anything—beyond the mundane world.
His breathing was slow. Steady. Focused.
The way the old cultivation scrolls instructed.
Yet no matter how deeply he sank into meditation, he felt… nothing.
No warmth of qi.
No tingling sensation in his veins.
No spiritual resonance.
Just silence.
Just emptiness.
His brows tightened, frustration pricking his chest. "Why… can't I feel even a flicker?"
He wasn't talentless. That wasn't the problem.
Every teacher who ever examined him said the same thing:
"You have no qi-affinity."
"No spiritual roots."
"No cultivation potential."
It was a verdict worse than death for anyone longing to touch the path of power.
But Wuya refused to accept it.
Every morning, before the sun rose and after it sank, he trained. He meditated. He pushed himself. Hoping something would change.
Today, something did.
It began as a faint warmth in his chest—so subtle he first mistook it for rising heat from the stone beneath him. Then, slowly, deliberately, it spread.
A gentle pulse.
Then another.
Growing stronger.
His breath caught.
The warmth became a swirl. The swirl became a current. And the current became three distinct forces, each awakening like a slumbering giant stretching its limbs.
Wuya gasped as his eyes snapped open.
Before him, the air shimmered, as though reality itself had become liquid.
Three streams of light spiraled upward from his dantian.
One was gold—molten, radiant, pulsing with ancient majesty. It coiled around his chest, warming him from the inside out. Every heartbeat sent golden ripples through his blood. This was an aura of dominance, of lineage, of heritage far beyond the mortal world.
One was silver—threadlike, delicate, and impossibly precise. Dozens of thin strands appeared, each one humming softly, vibrating with the faint whisper of cosmic laws. They twisted around him elegantly, forming symbols he could not understand.
One was blue—deep and profound, swirling with miniature landscapes. Tiny floating mountains, rivers, and clouds spiraled through the air as if a world in miniature had been born from nothingness.
The three streams circled him, merging yet distinct, interacting but not clashing.
Wuya stared, wide-eyed, breath shaking.
"What is… this power…?"
Before he could gather his thoughts, a voice—deep, calm, and resonant with authority beyond the mortal realm—echoed inside his mind.
"Wuya… my son."
His heart froze.
That voice—
It belonged to the man he barely remembered.
The man who appeared only in fragmented memories.
The man whose presence lingered like a faded shadow across his childhood dreams.
His father.
"You have waited long enough."
"Today, your true inheritance awakens."
The golden stream pulsed in response, and Wuya felt as if the very essence of his blood trembled in recognition.
"Three paths lie within you. Each a legacy of power once wielded by the strongest beings of countless realms."
The silver threads tightened, humming harmoniously.
"The Primordial Bloodline Path."
A surging warmth spread through Wuya's body, strengthening his bones, sharpening his senses.
"The Eternal Dao Path."
Law threads illuminated briefly, revealing glimpses of time, space, and cosmic order.
"And the Inner World Path."
The blue sphere spiraled outward, forming a breathtaking miniature world that floated above his palm.
Wuya's fingers trembled as he slowly extended his hand toward the blue swirl.
The miniature world responded instantly.
A tiny mountain rose.
A small river flowed.
Clouds drifted softly above.
It was no illusion.
He had formed the first spark of an actual inner world.
His breath shook with awe.
"I… I made this?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
"Not made," the voice corrected gently, "awakened."
"This is your birthright."
Wuya's mind raced.
An inner world…
A bloodline like molten sunlight…
Dao laws whispering around him…
This wasn't normal cultivation.
This wasn't anything mortals—no, even immortals—could dream of.
This was something beyond the Infinite Universal Realms.
"Your blood remembers," the voice continued. "It remembers what you cannot. What I sealed for your safety."
The silver Dao threads flickered, revealing for an instant a massive silhouette—of a man standing above universes, commanding infinite realms with a single gesture.
Wuya's breath hitched.
Was that… his father?
Before he could ask, the illusion faded. The voice softened.
"Observe."
"Understand."
"Grow."
Then the voice vanished.
The golden, silver, and blue currents slowly calmed, sinking gently into Wuya's body. Yet their presence remained—settled, not hidden.
As the energies integrated into him, Wuya felt something he had never felt before.
Connection.
Not to the valley.
Not to the world.
But to himself.
He felt the rhythm of his bloodline.
The whisper of Dao laws.
The heartbeat of his inner world.
He closed his eyes, letting the sensations guide him.
Inside his mind, the miniature world expanded slightly. Hills became mountains. Rivers stretched farther. The blue light deepened.
Silver Dao threads descended like starlight, forming a faint grid over the small world, stabilizing its shape.
Golden warmth seeped into the world's core, strengthening its foundation.
A synergy formed.
Bloodline empowered world.
World stabilized Dao comprehension.
Dao refined bloodline potential.
Three becoming one.
Minutes, or hours—he couldn't tell—passed as Wuya immersed himself in this newfound harmony.
Finally, when he opened his eyes, the valley around him felt… different.
Brighter.
More alive.
More connected.
His senses sharpened.
He could hear leaves quiver dozens of meters away.
He could feel the faint flow of qi, once invisible to him, drifting through air like a gentle breeze.
This time, the qi didn't avoid him.
It flowed naturally into him.
His first true breath of cultivation.
He smiled faintly.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't empty.
He wasn't powerless.
He wasn't ordinary.
He felt… awakened.
As if responding to his confidence, the golden aura around him brightened momentarily, and the inner world pulsed softly in his dantian.
Then—
A soft rustle echoed from above.
Wuya looked up.
A cloaked figure stood on the cliff.
The morning sun framed him, making his silhouette appear ethereal, almost divine.
A simple blacksmith's hammer hung at his side.
Though he radiated no visible aura… the world subtly bowed around him.
Mountains leaned.
Winds quieted.
Qi converged.
Wuya felt a shiver run through his spine.
That presence—
No mortal man possessed it.
Not even saints, not even immortals, not even ancient beings of legend.
Only one person could.
His father.
But the figure said no words this time.
No instructions.
No comfort.
No praise.
He only watched—calm, silent, unshakable.
And then he vanished.
As if he had never been there.
Wuya stood slowly, gripping his chest. He could still feel the warmth of the three paths swirling inside him, still sense the living heartbeat of his inner world.
He looked at his palm where tiny blue sparks still flickered.
Today, his old life ended.
His new path began.
The legacy hidden in his blood had awakened.
And somewhere far beyond the visible skies, beyond the realms, beyond the universe itself—
The Infinite Universal Realms trembled ever so slightly.
For a new Primordial Being had taken his first breath.