‘I can only think of a single way out of this blighted situation.’

  Reaching the sapling, Zamian shoved his right hand’s index and middle fingers into the crack created by Ruen’s explosive attack. ‘And it isn’t by forcefully breaking it. Even if I had essence to use a technique, I doubt it would be enough.’

  Zamian had previously assaulted the sapling with countless punches and kicks while transformed using the Beginning of the Cycle technique—but he had never left even a scratch, let alone a crack like Ruen’s exploding spheres did.

  In fact, he was certain he had survived said explosion only because he had stood behind the sapling.

  “I don’t have time to waste,” Zamian muttered, closing his eyes while keeping his fingers inside the sapling’s crack.

  He willed himself to enter his dark space—the void-like realm where his multicolored humanoid soul resided.

  Arriving there, he ignored everything else, commanding his vision to zoom in on the white crystal which still bore thirteen drawings.

  As bright white light overwhelmed his vision and the ethereal buildings emerged and materialized, Zamian thought, ‘There is only one technique I’ve seen that never emitted any essence while being used.’

  His perspective shifted, and he found himself on the familiar rooftop. White-robed disciples rushed past, avoiding the center of the courtyard while chattering in their strange language.

  Zamian didn’t move from his spot. Instead, he turned his gaze to the center.

  Soon, Lin Zhi took form. The monstrous teacher transformed from a tiny sapling to a grotesque amalgamation of roots, scaly arms, bone claws, and a swarm of insects coalescing into a twisted mocking of a human head.

  The creature’s four glowing green eyes locked onto Zamian, each eye moving in eerie, independent directions. “Greetings,” Lin Zhi said, his voice a chorus of insects whispering in unison.

  Wasting no time, Zamian cupped his hands and imitated the salute he had seen Disciple Tian perform during his previous encounter. Bowing slightly, he said, “This junior wishes to struggle against Teacher Lin Zhi’s technique.”

  ‘My body points are draining even now, so Lin Zhi, you blighted thing, you better understand me,’ Zamian thought, recalling that he had never directly spoken to anyone here before. During his enlightenment, he had only muttered and screamed, leaving before gauging any reactions.

  “Sit,” Lin Zhi said.

  ‘Oh no,’ Zamian thought in dismay. ‘He didn’t understand.’

  “This one just said he will struggle against me today, so everyone else must sit,” Lin Zhi clarified, his four eyes glowing as they darted unnaturally, scanning Zamian’s body.

  The white-robed disciples murmured amongst themselves but obediently sat, some relieved, others confused as they pointed at Zamian.

  “Now, disciple,” Lin Zhi whispered, his eerie tone prickling Zamian’s skin. “Why aren’t you speaking the Origin language?”

  ‘Oh blight,’ Zamian thought. Just as hope flickered, he realized he had no idea how to answer.

  As his mind raced, Lin Zhi asked another question. “Your language—it’s unknown to me. Where did you learn it?”

  ‘Can I even lie to this thing?’ Zamian wondered, a bead of sweat forming at his temple.

  Shaking his head, he answered, “I don’t know what Origin is. I’m just here to learn from you. Please, teach me!”

  Lin Zhi’s four eyes glowed, and a surge of green essence flooded the surroundings, thick and oppressive. “I suspected you weren’t from here, which would be abnormal, but understandable. But…”

  Zamian’s instincts screamed like never before. He realized that whatever was about to happen would not just threaten his form here, but his real life as well.

  “For you to say you don’t know Origin, that’s very curious indeed,” Lin Zhi concluded.

  Hundreds of rotten roots materialized from the sky and the surroundings, shooting toward Zamian with terrifying speed.

  ‘I can’t be locked here,’ Zamian thought, panic coursing through him as he assessed his situation. The roots left no openings, surrounding him.

  ‘No matter what, I can’t stay!’ Zamian made a desperate decision. His right hand began glowing with a green light as he moved it with all the speed he could muster.

  He had activated the Beginning of the Cycle technique—focused solely on his right hand!

  Lin Zhi, observing Zamian’s movements with growing curiosity, widened his four glowing eyes in disbelief.

  But it wasn’t because of the technique itself. Nor was it Zamian’s speed.

  It was the target of the attack.

  Zamian’s hand moved with precision, slicing clean through his own neck. Blood splashed, and the pain was brief but sharp. Despite the gruesome act, Zamian managed a faint smile.

  The color drained from the surroundings, replaced by blinding white light that rushed into the crystal.

  Before the process could push him into another interaction—or let him dwell on the fact that he had just slit his own throat—Zamian forced himself out of the dark space.

  His eyes snapped open, breath shallow and ragged.

  ‘Show me my stats,’ he commanded the White Dot.

  White text materialized before him.

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 0070/1000

  Mind: 600/650

  Soul: 390/650

  Dismissing the text, he closed his eyes once more. Entering the dark space, he commanded his vision back to the white crystal, and thought, ‘Still ten soul points to enter there, but the concerning part is that it cost me five body points. Did I even spend five minutes in there?’

  The crystal flashed, and for the fifth time, Zamian was consumed by the white light, transporting him to Lin Zhi’s rooftop.

  As the other’s people actions repeated, Zamian thought about his previous interactions and formulated a plan, standing still

  “Sit,” soon, Lin Zhi said, its gaze locking onto him.

  Zamian approached, cupped his hands, and bowed slightly, remaining silent.

  As had happened the first time he was here, the pungent, acidic odor wafted from the creature, followed by eerie whispers. “Good disciple. Only through struggle can we learn.”

  A green light spread from Lin Zhi’s roots. The floor beneath trembled, its smooth surface turning brown and roughening with the texture of bark. Moments later, it rose sharply, lifting Zamian and Lin Zhi onto the same stump he saw on his first and third time here.

  Zamian focused his full attention, instincts, and every bodily sense on Lin Zhi.

  The teacher raised his right claw, the six bony fingers cupped in Zamian’s direction. From the tips of those grotesque fingers, a green, fingernail-sized orb appeared, pulsing softly.

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  ‘Not a speck of essence,’ Zamian thought, just before the green glow hit him.

  The baby’s cry echoed in his mind once more. Though the wave of despair wasn’t as overwhelming as before, his chest tightened. Scowling, he struggled to handle the invisible weight brought by the tiny orb.

  Soon, as he expected, a force surged within his soul, blocking the orb’s glow.

  “Your soul is stronger than a Farmer’s should be, disciple,” Lin Zhi said, repeating the words from Zamian’s first interaction. With a flick of his bony claw, the orb shot toward Zamian’s shoulder.

  ‘It’s here,’ Zamian tensed his muscles, subconsciously empowering his body with essence.

  The orb hit his shoulder, and for a moment, his body flashed a green light. He didn’t budge, standing firm against the shooting force. ‘What?’ he thought, but lost focus as searing pain radiated from his shoulder, forcing him to grit his teeth.

  The green orb began to pull at his essence, draining it relentlessly. A fleeting thought crossed his mind: ‘Do I even have essence?’ But the crushing pain quickly brought him back to the moment.

  His body was more resilient than it had been the first time he was hit by the orb, as an Enlightened, and he had more essence too. Even so, his muscles contracted, desperately trying to expel the orb, but the hole it had formed kept closing.

  Despite his efforts, Zamian couldn’t stop his essence from fueling the Seed of Creation.

  Slowly, the orb grew in size.

  ‘No, this… doesn’t… matter…’ Zamian thought. He was far stronger than the first time he came here, but his goal remained the same. ‘I need… to… learn…’

  The pain was unbearable. It tore at him, far worse than any hits of Warlord Ruen.

  With bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “I... can’t… give… up!”

  Closing his eyes, he forced himself to concentrate on the orb. His essence was nearly depleted, but he didn’t care. He ignored the pain, the feelings, and focused entirely on the Seed.

  The orb grew larger, swelling to the size of a fist before stabilizing. Zamian felt its weight pressing against his muscles and bones, crushing everything it touched. It consumed whatever it could, forcing his body to become a nutrient to feed it.

  Zamian laughed.

  Struggling… to… be… born, he thought, realizing the strong intent within the orb. Unlike any other technique he had seen, the Seed had a clear purpose: to consume, grow, and prove it deserved to exist—to begin its cycle.

  As Zamian grasped this concept, his muscles tore, and his bones shattered.

  ‘No… time…’ He realized this process would take far longer than he had anticipated, not just because of his strength, but also because Lin Zhi wasn’t simply targeting him—he was teaching. The other disciples were learning while he endured this agony.

  Forcing his trembling lips into a weak smile, Zamian focused. Using his peculiar control over his muscles, he alternated between relaxing and tensing them, gradually moving the Seed of Creation within his body.

  As he did so, Lin Zhi spoke, unmoving. “Curious.”

  Slowly, as Zamian maneuvered the Seed closer to his heart, the technique consumed his muscles and then his organs. With each passing moment, the cultivator felt his strength waning. He refrained from commanding the essence infused in his bones, muscles, and blood to sustain him.

  He wanted death.

  As the edges of his vision darkened and his breaths grew shallow, the scene seemed to freeze in time.

  Everything was engulfed in white light. When the familiar white crystal reappeared before him, Zamian chose to exit his soul space.

  Opening his eyes, he immediately checked a single piece of information.

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 0050/1000

  Mind: 600/650

  Soul: 380/650

  ‘Too much time.’ Gritting his teeth, Zamian closed his eyes once more and repeated the process. ‘And I’ve learned too little.’

  This would be his sixth time meeting Lin Zhi.

  I’ve grasped the concept, but how can I use a technique without essence? He pondered as the scene began to take shape. I’ll need to take a risk… a gamble.

  This time, Zamian moved from his usual spot and waited for Lin Zhi to appear.

  After Lin Zhi’s form emerged and the teacher gave his usual greeting, commanding the disciples to sit, he finally spoke the line Zamian had been waiting for.

  “To learn, we must first struggle,” Lin Zhi said, his eerie voice echoing.

  Standing, Zamian cupped his hands and bowed deeply. “Teacher Lin Zhi, I am not from Origin. I have come here struggling, seeking ways to keep growing and to fight against decline and death.”

  Lin Zhi nodded as the white-robed disciples murmured among themselves.

  “Introduce yourself, disciple,” Lin Zhi said, his voice buzzing with a low, unsettling hum. “It’s always good to know the names of newly arrived talents.”

  “This one is disciple... Zamian,” he replied, choosing honesty while remaining vague. Even he could somehow detect lies, and betting that this monster might not possess the same ability wasn’t the gamble he came here to make.

  “You are a Farmer at the Essence Refining Stage,” Lin Zhi stated, not asked. “You need to advance to the Essence Merging Stage before attempting to form a Core, so coming here isn’t very useful to you. However, you can help me demonstrate more about my Seed of Creation technique,” he whispered, his eerie buzzing voice crawling into Zamian’s ears.

  ‘I don’t have time for this…’ Zamian thought, inwardly noting the unfamiliar terms. The names piled up more questions in his mind. He had no clue about these stages, but one thing was clear—if he let things proceed naturally, he’d soon find himself as little more than a class prop.

  “Teacher Lin Zhi,” Zamian interrupted, raising his voice. “I have a question about that technique. How can someone use it without expending essence?”

  Lin Zhi’s four glowing eyes brightened. “Ah, so you haven’t met a Warden yet? Or any other cultivator with a Core? They can use techniques like this without expending essence, relying only on the intent of their soul.”

  “How do they do it?” Zamian pressed, his eyes gleaming. “How can someone like me use their soul to conjure the Seed of Creation?”

  “You can’t,” Lin Zhi replied sharply. “None of your fellow disciples can, either. We cultivate the Mind Path within the Nature Pathway. Only cultivators of the Soul Paths or Primordial Paths are capable of such feats while being a Mortal.”

  A chill ran down Zamian’s spine. His instincts screamed at him, and he could feel Lin Zhi’s intense gaze boring into him. ‘Blighted thing…’ he cursed inwardly.

  “From which realm do you hail?” Lin Zhi asked, green essence flooding the space.

  Zamian’s instincts roared louder. Not wanting to lose precious time or face the consequences of being kept here, he activated the Beginning of the Cycle technique on his right hand and swiftly cut his neck.

  As the scene dissolved, leaving Lin Zhi and his doubts behind, Zamian emerged from his soul space and immediately checked his stats:

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 0035/1000

  Mind: 600/650

  Soul: 370/650

  “Mind Paths. Soul Paths. Primordial Paths,” Zamian muttered, glancing at his stats. “Maybe there’s also Body Paths? Whatever, no time to waste,” he said, closing his eyes.

  Zamian’s mind raced as he prepared himself to face Lin Zhi for the seventh time.

  Following the same steps as before, he waited for Lin Zhi to speak before cupping his fists and introducing himself. “Teacher Lin Zhi, this one is disciple Zamian, a Farmer at the... Essence Refining Stage. I’m not from Origin and came here struggling to learn. In my realm, we weren’t taught how cultivators from the Soul Paths can conjure techniques with their souls.”

  Lin Zhi nodded, and the disciples murmured quietly, already seated.

  “Brutes, akin to ancient cultivators, must have taught you,” Lin Zhi said, waving his hand.

  Zamian’s eyes narrowed as Lin Zhi’s roots glowed with green light. The floor beneath them transformed into a wooden platform, which rose sharply.

  Lin Zhi began his lesson. “While still Mortals, our souls are formed by the energy radiated from the Pathway’s essence used to give us birth. Most Mortals have half a dozen essences forming their souls. This energy cannot be used, touched, or commanded. It merely outlines one’s soul and replenishes itself naturally.”

  “Our Nature Pathway is one of the four Mind Paths,” Lin Zhi continued. “We cannot use our souls until we form a Core. Instead, we rely on our Mind Vision, simulating actions and feelings that resonate with Nature’s essence.”

  Lin Zhi’s four glowing eyes fixed on Zamian as he whispered this, and Zamian nodded along.

  “The Soul Paths, however, can command their soul’s essence—what they call Soul Force—to infuse their techniques with intent. This intent, however, is tainted.” Lin Zhi raised a hand, conjuring a glowing green orb. “This Seed of Creation is pure. Its intentions are pure. But a Soul Path cultivator could use their emotions and motivations to taint it, provided they resonate with their Pathway.”

  Zamian observed intently, his mind racing. He was torn between appreciating and disliking how much Lin Zhi talked. ‘Is this monster prideful? Does he just want to flaunt his superior knowledge over my unknown realm’s teachers?’ Pushing the thought aside, Zamian digested Lin Zhi’s words.

  Suddenly, Zamian’s eyes widened, a thought struck him, and he shouted, “Teacher Lin Zhi! The pathway with red essence— is it a Soul Path? What is its name and its feeling?”

  Lin Zhi’s eyes glowed ominously as Nature’s essence surged around them.

  Zamian’s instincts screamed, and his glowing hand was already at his neck. ‘This isn’t a good reaction for me to have…’ he thought, bracing himself.

  As the scene paused, white light consumed everything, Zamian inwardly sighed.

  Leaving the dark space, he opened his eyes once more.

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 0020/1000

  Mind: 600/650

  Soul: 360/650

  Zamian dismissed the text, coughing harshly before closing his eyes.

  Blood spilled onto the sapling and pooled on the floor beneath him.

  ‘I need to find out by myself,’ he thought, entering the dark space and searching for the red specks of light. Approaching them, he tried to grasp the emotions they evoked.

  ‘The feeling of missing someone? Sadness?’ he pondered, the memory of reading Yokki’s emotions surfacing in his mind. ‘Concern? A need to protect?’

  As he focused on the red lights, a word emerged from the swirl of sensations in his thoughts.

  ‘Love.’

  But the red lights remained still, unchanging, leaving him uncertain. ‘I need to test it… But not in my real body. I don’t think I can survive more than one attempt.’

  Zamian commanded his vision to zoom in on the white crystals above his head. Skipping the one with sixteen drawings, he turned his focus to the other crystal, the one that still bore nine scribbles.

  A blinding white light consumed his vision.

  It was Zamian’s eighth encounter with Lin Zhi, and his final attempt to master the Seed of Creation technique before his death.