Zamian stared at the warning on the white text.

  (!): Perpetuity Pathway and Creation Pathway detected. Please, choose your Main Pathway.

  “What does it mean, White Dot?” he asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

  And, as usual, no answer came.

  'White Dot marked Father with Impure before, but it disappeared after he consumed part of the red mist. Should I do the same?—wait, does that mean I’m crazy?’ Zamian’s thoughts spiraled. 'But then again, I’ve already consumed some of the red mist…'

  Trying to steady himself, Zamian willed his essence to flow through his body. He focused inward, checking for anything out of place.

  'I don’t feel any issues. My mind is clear, my body is healthy. If anything, I feel stronger, more prepared to cultivate and breakthrough soon,' he thought, trying to listen for any subtle whispers from his instincts. 'And they’re silent.'

  He sighed, his thoughts turning back to the strange warning. “Why do you keep calling the Nature Pathway the Creation Pathway, White Dot?” he muttered, irritation creeping into his voice. Every book he’d read and every cultivator he’d spoken to called the green essence they absorbed Nature’s essence, tying it unmistakably to the Nature Pathway. So why was White Dot different?

  Zamian wanted to dismiss the warning. But he couldn’t. This blighted companion had proven itself too useful and powerful to ignore. It had given his soul a tool capable of defending against a Chosen’s attack, even countering Yokki’s technique. Whatever the White Dot was, it didn’t seem prone to pranks. If it was warning him, there had to be a reason.

  'There must be an issue with cultivating two pathways,' he thought grimly. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be telling me to choose, right, you muted thing?” he growled.

  He knew better than to ignore the text’s warnings. The White Dot had been right too many times before. “Tell me how to choose my Main Path,” he said aloud, his voice firmer now. “At least explain what the Perpetuity Path is.”

  Silence.

  He sighed again, his frustration giving way to resignation. “Please?” he added softly, a wry smile crossing his face.

  Still, there was no response.

  Gazing at the text again, Zamian didn’t need to be a genius to figure out the red essence was tied to the Perpetuity Pathway. 'Or Perpetuity’s essence? Such an odd name,' he mused, his thoughts swirling as he tried to connect recent events with what he knew.

  ‘Why do I keep forgetting to check my soul?’ Wanting to beat himself, he once more entered his dark space.

  The familiar motes of light appeared before him, multicolored and scattered throughout the humanoid form—red, green, white, and a half dozen other colors.

  Zamian focused on the most prevalent colors inside his soul.

  The red motes, dominating most of the humanoid shape, were clearly linked to the Perpetuity Pathway. They had come from the red mist—or, more precisely, from the Abyssal Leaf, a White Dot reward he had never physically seen. It had allowed him to enter that eerie red world and speak with his deceased mother. ‘I feel if I dwell on this too much, I will regret it forever,’ he thought as his instincts agreed with him.

  The green motes represented the Nature Pathway. There was no doubt about it. He had seen green essence shimmering in the Sanctuary air since he was a child. It was omnipresent, familiar, and tied directly to his environment. Choosing it as his Main Pathway would make cultivation easier in the long run, not to mention avoiding awkward questions about where he acquired essence from other paths.

  Nodding inwardly, the young man glanced at the white motes of light.

  He didn’t care about them before. There has been so much happening since yesterday, he should thank his mind to handle it without breaking. Part of him must have ignored these white lights, mostly because he had always seen something similar since more than two years ago.

  Even now, the White Dot lingered in the corner of his vision, distinct from the motes but bearing a resemblance. Zamian recognized he should have given these white motes more importance when he first noticed them inside his soul. But honestly, he hadn’t seen a reason to.

  'Why should I have worried?’ he thought. His father had checked his soul before and hadn’t mentioned the multicolored motes as either a problem or a blessing. Besides, there were other issues to deal with—his trial, cultivation, and his father’s spiraling condition.

  The motes had always been untouchable to him—pretty fireflies floating in the void. They were beautiful, yes, but useless. Decorations to glance at in passing, not tools to help him cultivate or fend off stronger enemies, like Yokki.

  But now, after the red motes’ earlier display, the situation had changed.

  Zamian now understood that even if he hadn’t originally cultivated essence of other colors, it didn’t mean he couldn’t use them. But the questions remained—what caused the change in the red essence? What made him capable of cultivating the Perpetuity Pathway or even seeing his mother?

  'Wait. If I can cultivate this new Path, gather more essence, and become a Zealot of both the Perpetuity and Nature Pathways, can’t I do the same with the white essence?’ His thoughts raced. 'Why not combine the essence from these Pathways and become a stronger Zealot? Or… even a Chosen?’

  The idea sparked deep curiosity in his mind. Zamian focused on the white motes, willing them to move.

  Nothing happened.

  He observed them closely, searching for a scene beyond their brightness like the red vortex had shown him.

  He thought of his mother, his father, his struggles. Good memories followed: playing with his parents, pranking Bohlo, cultivating with Lakea. Then the bad ones—his mother being taken by the Clerics, his father’s first episode.

  But still, the white motes remained unmoving.

  Zamian frowned, but he wouldn’t give up. ‘Nature’s essence gathers only when a cultivator aligns their thoughts and actions. The white essence must work the same way,’ he reasoned. Yet, another thought struck him. 'Wait. How did I gather it before?’

  The realization was sharp. ‘The red essence came from the Abyssal Leaf, from the red mist. I never cultivated it—it was introduced to me. So… the white essence must have come from a source outside my control.’ He turned his attention to the White Dot. 'You’re the culprit, aren’t you?’

  As expected, there was no reply.

  With more questions piling up, Zamian shifted his focus to the other colors, willing each one to act. None of them moved, nor did they show him any past scenes. Frustration bubbled as he acknowledged the truth. ‘Without knowing what triggered the red essence’s change, I can’t replicate it with the others.’

  Reluctantly, he ceased his efforts and left the dark space, taking a deep breath as he assessed his situation.

  'The red essence won’t move for now, but that’s fine. I can cultivate the Nature Pathway, become a Zealot, and figure out the rest later,' he decided.

  “Okay, White Dot, you win. I want the Nature—no, the Creation Pathway as my main pathway,” he spoke out loud.

  As expected, nothing happened, and he could still see the warning.

  (!): Perpetuity Pathway and Creation Pathway detected. Please, choose your Main Pathway.

  Sitting back against the tree, Zamian closed his eyes, pushing aside his swirling concerns. “I should cultivate. I won’t solve this problem by overthinking, and I can’t waste the rest of the day buried in worries,” he murmured.

  Taking a deep breath, he began to chant, his voice firm. “Nature is the Cycle, so our path is never-ending. Nature is the Creation, so our path is ever strong. Nature is the Truth, so our path is the only one.”

  Essence cycled slowly within him, as green lights covered his skin from the outside. Zamian synchronized the movements of his chest and the rhythm of his breath with the essence’s flow, letting his mind be carried away.

  As he immersed himself, Zamian noticed specks of red light floating along the grass he had imagined. The number of red lights grew steadily. 'Will this be a problem?' he wondered, frowning.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Refusing to remain passive, he willed the red essence to leave. To his relief, the red specks dissolved into the visualization, carried away by an imagined wind.

  Satisfied, Zamian continued. He visualized his parents, shaping a scene of himself as a newborn, crying under a canopy of vibrant green-leafed trees.

  “We should call him Zamian. It reminds me of my father-in-law’s name, Damian. What do you think, darling?” a soft voice said, pulling Zamian from his focus.

  Zamian turned toward the source of the voice. The woman had his mother’s face, her hand gently caressing the newborn’s head as she panted, exhausted but smiling. She had just spoken.

  ‘Wh-what?’

  The visualization shattered.

  Zamian’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving. He trembled as he struggled to process what had just happened. It wasn’t just that the woman spoke like his mother, or that her skin and clothing glowed with a deep red hue, reminiscent of the red essence.

  It was the sensation he felt as the visualization broke.

  A flaw.

  The feeling was unmistakable, but unlike the usual cultivation flaws, Nature’s knowledge didn’t offer guidance, no instinctive correction to set things right.

  A sense of foreboding settled over him as he tried again. Zamian visualized the scene from the start, purging the red essence before shaping the canopy, his parents, and himself as a newborn.

  But every time the baby was born, the woman would turn red, becoming more vivid and lifelike, taking more of his mother’s features. She moved and spoke without following his will, breaking free from the limits of his visualization, even if it was for a few moments before the visualization broke.

  And no matter how much he tried to focus and keep the cycle moving, his visualization would always break.

  Zamian tried to remake the woman, choosing another model besides his mother. After concluding it, the woman’s face morphed, her skin and bones moving and squirming, as she took Jasmine’s appearance.

  The young man then tried to flood the woman with green essence, illuminating her with a flux of greenish light. The green essence, sadly, didn’t enter her body, and Zamian couldn’t provoke any change in her behavior.

  He kept trying different approaches but to no avail. Talking to her was impossible because his visualization would end after the usual first sentence came out of her mouth.

  Huffing, he glanced at the White Dot, willing his stats to appear.

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 15/54

  Mind: 22/50

  Soul: 60/100

  Zamian clenched his fists. He was tiring himself without achieving anything!

  When he cultivated in his house’s garden before, he had recalled stories about the outside world being polluted with conflicting essences, which supposedly slowed and tainted one’s cultivation. At first, he doubted it; in his opinion, no information shared by the Verdant God’s believers could truly be trusted—unless it came from Bohlo or his friend’s family.

  Now, however, he had no choice but to believe. Zamian was sure the red essence tainted his cultivation. ‘The Perpetuity Pathway won’t mix with Nature Pathway!,' he thought, dazzed.

  “Oh no, did I cripple myself?” he muttered, his breath hitching. Dry heaving, he shook his head. “No, no. I’m overthinking. Don’t make this too complex now, Zamian. Keep it simple.”

  He took a deep breath, forcing himself to slow down. ‘Should I try something?’ The thought crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. ‘No. I can’t be reckless. I should wait for my father.’

  It seemed like a decision had been made.

  But as he calmed himself, his instincts flared—a sudden, overwhelming sense of unwillingness surged through him. It felt sticky and suffocating like viscous tree sap spreading through his chest.

  ‘How can I save him if I always need his help?’ The thought came from deep inside his heart. ‘I should be looking for a way to save him, not depending on him!’

  Zamian’s eyes flashed red, the color mirroring the red essence inside his soul.

  ‘My father was also Impure! But after cultivating the red mist, it changed—no, after absorbing it, the red mist cured his soul. The text said he was still cultivating the Creation Pathway, so the Abyssal Leaf didn’t change his Path. Father did something with the red mist inside him, which helped!' Zamian concluded, understanding he was making too many assumptions.

  But now, he had some options to try.

  Zamian started murmuring Nature Pathway’s chant, commanding his green essence to move, his eyes still open to observe the red light following close behind, circulating the green light like dust.

  Nature’s essence gathered on his right fist and then returned to his chest, in a continuous cycle. The red essence, however, was kept in his closed fist, while he stared at it with bloodshot eyes.

  Zamian guessed he couldn’t control the red essence directly because he lacked any correspondent technique. The young man could, however, make the red essence follow the green one.

  The Enlightened controlled Nature’s essence by chanting and willing it to move. Zamian visualized its movements, emphasizing a single line of the chant, ‘Nature is the Truth, so our path is the only one’.

  Perpetuity Pathway wasn’t a part of Nature; it wasn’t part of Nature’s cycle.

  Zamian wasn’t aware of how to cultivate the Perpetuity Pathway, but he lived for almost 16 years in a society dominated by the Nature Pathway—the Creation Pathway.

  Zamian knew a few things about what his Path was capable of.

  Sweating and trembling, Zamian kept chanting, expending green essence while confining the red one inside his right fist.

  After a few moments, no more of Perpetuity's essence flowed from his chest. Zamian grinned and punched the air.

  The essence didn’t move, still attached to him ‘Yeah, not my smartest move,' he thought, smirking. ‘Let’s try this, then.’

  Putting his fist on the floor, he commanded the green essence to strike against the red essence again and again. Waves of green slammed into the red, rippling through the ground beneath him, tearing up grass only to revitalize some blades in the process.

  Zamian lost more and more of his essence with this movement, wasting his cultivation progress.

  The red essence, compressed inside his right hand, had nowhere to go but to front, to outside his body! Zamian was creating a path, with green essence, and then cutting it off, so the red essence could follow it when going outside his body, but not rush back!

  ‘Nature is the Truth, so our path is the only one!’ he thought with gritted teeth.

  More than seeing it, Zamian felt the red essence leaving his body. ‘Is red essence invisible? What was the red mist, then?’ he wondered but chose to shelve the question for later. There was a more pressing issue at hand.

  As the red lights in his fist dimmed and the pale tone of his skin returned, Zamian commanded Nature’s essence to flow again. He scanned his body meticulously, ensuring no trace of the Perpetuity's essence remained.

  After a few moments of silence, he turned his gaze to the White Dot.

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 2 [20%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 16/54

  Mind: 18/50

  Soul: 12/100

  After confirming his Pathway, Zamian lay back on the grass, sighing in relief.

  “This blighted plan worked…” he muttered. “But I lost too much. Moving essence without a technique is wasteful, and it seems doing it continuously reduces my soul points,” he pondered aloud. “Would I pass out again if I kept going?” He bit his lip in frustration.

  Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes and willed himself into the dark space again. The familiar motes of light appeared—red, green, white, and others in smaller numbers.

  '...Oh please, no,' he thought, his heart sinking as the red motes still shone brightly.

  Leaving the dark space, Zamian immediately began to cultivate, ignoring the fatigue in his soul. He needed to confirm that no red essence remained within him. Visualizing a field of grass, he focused on constructing the green scene in his mind. To his relief, no red specks appeared.

  Fixating his awareness on the woman, he willed her to take the shape of someone other than his mother. She obeyed. She didn’t speak, didn’t turn red, and didn’t morph uncontrollably.

  Sighing inwardly, Zamian ended the visualization and opened his eyes.

  'The essence inside my soul—my father called it crystal essence—seems to influence my cultivation only when I have the same-colored essence in my body,' he was puzzled, ‘But how? Why?’

  ‘I’m aware essences of different colors come from different pathways; this much is obvious,’ Zamian thought, his mind racing. ‘But not every pathway is cultivated the same way. Nature Pathway needs visualization, imagination—the act of bringing something to life in our minds. While the Perpetuity Pathway… it needs our memories?’ His eyes widened. ‘No, it’s our feelings. I could sense Yokki’s emotions! The memories in that red world—the ones showing me my mother—aren’t they tied to strong feelings?’

  Though pleased with his assumptions, Zamian felt as if he were missing a key piece. His instincts, which had guided him before, remained silent.

  ‘I didn’t have red essence inside my body this morning. I would’ve noticed while cultivating.’ He glanced at the white-leafed ceiling, wondering how much time he’d already spent in the garden. ‘Somehow, I gathered red essence between leaving home and creating that red vortex here. The Abyssal Leaf’s mist only gave me crystal essence and healed my soul. It couldn’t have placed red essence in my body.’

  Frustration simmered within him, but Zamian wasn’t one to give up easily.

  ‘I need to discover how I gathered the red essence. If I can figure out the prerequisites for cultivating another pathway, I could cultivate white essence too.’ His gaze shifted to the White Dot. ‘And by doing this, I might uncover more about you and my mother’s book. Maybe, with this knowledge, I can even save the old man from himself.’

  Concentrating, Zamian combed through his memories from this morning onward. Most seemed unimportant until a realization struck him. ‘The red essence became invisible when it left my body… so it must have been invisible when I gathered it. Wait—’

  His hands flew to his body, patting frantically. A flush of embarrassment crept over his face when he found what he was looking for on his thigh, wrapped in multicolored leaves. Unwrapping it, Zamian revealed the topside of his last side quest reward.

  “You’re invisible too, White Key,” he muttered, holding the object up to inspect it.

  Zamian considered returning to cultivation. He had wasted enough time on the Impure Pathway problem, and recovering from the setback seemed wise.

  “Today, I could reach 40% or 50% of Level 2,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And still be as weak as a vermin.”

  He held the white—but invisible—key in front of his face, his gaze narrowing. ‘Activating White Dot’s reward seems more important. I tried sending green essence to it, but what if…’

  A small smile formed as he moved his essence again, ignoring the headache that followed. Wielding Nature’s essence, he guided it to his right hand, directing it toward the key.

  As the green essence flowed, Zamian focused on creating a path—one that other kinds of essence could follow.

  After a while, the key began to take on a faint white hue. His grin widened. ‘Not only invisible outside my body, but it seems it’s invisible inside too.’ His smile faltered as confusion crept in. ‘But if I have white essence inside me, why didn’t the White Dot mark my path as impure before?’

  Another problem stacked onto the growing pile, and the pounding in his head intensified. ‘Cultivation is hard!’ he lamented, a sour chuckle escaping his lips.

  A sudden flash of white light snapped him from his thoughts. The key in his hand blazed like a beacon, its radiance engulfing him entirely.

  “This reminds me of when I opened mother’s book,” he muttered, his voice barely audible before the light consumed him.

  When the glow faded, the spot where Zamian had been was empty. All that remained was the white key, now dissolving into motes of light.

  The young Enlightened was gone.