The voice that resonated within Han Li's mind was ethereal, woven from memory and desperate love.
"My son… if you are hearing this, you have chosen your path."
A wave of profound sorrow, preserved for fourteen years, washed over him. He could almost see —a face of elegant beauty, now just an impression of light and sound.
"The path of cultivation is paved with dangers," the voice continued, gentle yet firm. "But it is also a road of endless mystery and adventure."
Han Li clutched the warm jade disc. His heart hammered against his ribs.
"Since ancient times, the hunger for immortality has consumed mortals. But you, Li'er, are different. You possess a curse disguised as a blessing."
The words settled in his bones like ice.
"Your father and I possessed paired Heavenly Roots. From our union, you were born with something far rarer: a Celestial Spirit Root. It is known as the 'Cultivation Time Array.'"
A spark of hope ignited. A Celestial Root. It sounded majestic.
"It accelerates cultivation speed phenomenally. But during critical breakthroughs—Foundation, Core, Nascent Soul—you will require threads of pure Celestial Energy."
The spark sputtered.
"This energy is vanishingly scarce in the mortal world. You may be trapped for decades, even centuries, starving for what you need. It will feel like a mortal trying to breathe water."
The message was a map to a prison of his own potential. A glorious, gilded cage.
"Yet, it grants you a Celestial Physique. A foundation of unimaginable resilience. Finding true Celestial arts here is impossible. But do not despair. Heaven has shown you this path for a reason."
The urgency suddenly spiked, the voice tightening with fear.
"Never reveal this. There are those who would tear the root from your body to refine into pills for their own longevity. We… are so sorry. We could not stay. We had no choice. Be safe, our son. Live."
The emerald light dimmed. The humming ceased. The jade was just cold stone.
Han Li sat in the crushing silence. A single tear traced his cheek.
Was that really my mother?
The love in that voice was a tangible, ghostly embrace. It left him feeling both profoundly connected and utterly alone.
Celestial Root. Time Array.
The terms swirled in his mind. A cosmic secret now buried in his soul. It explained the testing crystal's cataclysmic reaction.
It was not a gift. It was a fate. A destiny with built-in bottlenecks of despair.
He clutched the disc to his chest. The last physical remnant of a family he would never know. He fell into a fitful sleep, haunted by whispers of fire, water, and distant, hungry stars.
---
Dawn came too quickly.
The morning meal of flatbreads was silent and solemn. The two chests of silver sat against the wall. A monumental fortune that now felt like payment for a son.
A firm knock echoed through the small house.
Han Li's father opened the door.
Cultivator Xiao Yao stood in the early light. His white robes were pristine. The vastness of the world seemed to hover behind him.
"Master. You are here," Han Li said. He had changed into his old patched clothes for travel. The green-azure robe was folded in his modest bag.
"It is time," Xiao Yao said, his voice neutral.
His eyes, however, took in the scene. The grieving parents. The resolute boy. The heavy silence.
The farewell was not long. Words were inadequate vessels.
His mother clutched him. Her tears soaked into his rough shirt. Her whispers were a mantra of love and worry.
His father gripped his shoulders. His calloused hands trembled. "You walk your path, son. No matter what. You are our son."
The unspoken words hung in the air. We will always be here.
Han Li hugged them fiercely. He memorized the feel of home. The scent of woodsmoke and herbs.
Then, with a final, deep bow to the two people who had given him everything, he turned. He followed the white-robed cultivator out of the clearing.
He did not look back.
He knew his mother's face would be streaked with tears. Her figure would grow smaller until the forest swallowed her.
He carried that image with him. A bittersweet weight next to the cool jade disc and the empty leather pouch.
---
There was no carriage. No spirit beast.
They walked.
Xiao Yao set a relentless, ground-eating pace. Han Li's legs burned by midday. They moved beyond the familiar woods. Into deeper, older parts of the mountain range.
They followed trails known only to beasts and immortals.
They slept under rocky overhangs. They ate simple rations Xiao Yao produced from a spatial ring—a flash of silver light, food appearing in his palm.
The magic made Han Li's eyes widen. Xiao Yao said nothing, offering no explanation.
For three days, they walked in near silence. The only sounds were their footfalls, the wind, and the distant cries of eagles.
It was a test of endurance. A weeding of resolve before the first lesson even began.
Han Li endured. He focused on putting one foot before the other. On the memory of his parents' faces. On the mysterious warmth of the jade disc.
On the evening of the third day, the sun bled orange and purple behind the peaks. They descended into a hidden valley.
It was a secluded paradise nestled in the arms of the mountains.
A clear, silver stream cut through its heart, reflecting the twilight. Lush, spiritual grass covered the floor, dotted with wildflowers that glowed faintly in the dim light.
On the far side, built against a sheer rock face, were a few simple structures.
Polished lacquered wood and dark stone. Sweeping roofs of grey tile. They looked less like houses and more like natural outgrowths of the cliff.
A main hall. A separate kitchen hut. Two small, secluded side chambers.
"This," Xiao Yao announced, his voice softening for the first time, "is the Whispering Valley Outpost. It will be your home."
Han Li gazed, his weariness forgotten. It was serene. Powerful. Utterly isolated.
"Master, will only the two of us live here?"
"For now, yes. Come."
Xiao Yao led him across a narrow wooden bridge over the stream. They stopped at the smallest side chamber.
"This is yours."
Han Li pushed open the door.
It was simple. To him, it was a palace.
A sturdy wooden bed with a thick cotton mattress. A clean, woolen blanket. A desk and chair sat under a window that looked onto the stream. A polished cupboard stood against one wall.
It was austere. It held a promise of peace and privacy he had never known.
"Rest. I will prepare a meal," Xiao Yao said, and left him.
---
An hour later, a call came. "Han Li. Eat."
The meal was in the main hall. Simple congee with wild herbs and strips of dried meat. It was fragrant and filling.
"Thank you, Master," Han Li said, sitting.
Xiao Yao studied him as he ate. After a moment, he spoke.
"You may call me Master. But the title is not yet permanent."
Han Li paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. "Why, Master?"
A faint, unreadable smile touched Xiao Yao's lips. "Do not worry. I mean only that discipleship is earned."
He set down his own bowl.
"Tomorrow, I will give you a cultivation manual. The 'Verdant Breath Mantra.' It is the foundation of our sect."
He leaned forward slightly. His eyes glinted in the candlelight.
"If you can comprehend its principles and reach the First Tier of Qi Condensation within one month… then you will truly be my only disciple."
He let the words hang.
"If not, you will remain here as my attendant. Our path together will be… different."
The challenge was clear. A gate before the first gate.
Pressure settled on Han Li's shoulders. It was a clean pressure. A task to focus on amidst the whirlwind of his upended life.
He saw his weeping mother. He heard his celestial mother's warning voice. The steel formed inside him.
"Master," Han Li said, meeting his gaze. "I will not waste this chance. I will try my best."
"Good."
Xiao Yao nodded once, decisively.
"Finish your meal. Rest deeply. True work begins at dawn."
---
Han Li returned to his new room.
He lay on the unfamiliar bed. Moonlight from the window painted silver stripes on the ceiling.
The emotions of the day churned within him. Grief. Wonder. Isolation.
But beneath it all was a newfound core. A diamond of determination.
He had a celestial root. A hidden destiny of glorious hardship.
He had a master who offered a test, not a gift.
He had a month.
He closed his eyes. Not to sleep, but to plan his first assault on the fortress of the heavens.
The challenge was immense.
But the boy who had faced a spirit wolf and carried a dying man's trust knew how to cling to a cliff's edge.
Tomorrow, he would begin to climb.
And he must suceed.