Zamian soon found himself staring at the external visualizations of Lin Zhi’s disciples.

  The last time he attempted this, he experienced enlightenment—and, by his own assumption, death. But this time, he was determined to focus entirely on learning how these people managed such intricate visualizations.

  Time passed as he observed each green projection. Humans, lizards, wolves, birds, insects—while there were some variations, none of the visualizations depicted other animals entirely new, like tigers, elephants, or cows.

  ‘Where did I read about so many other animals?’ he wondered, adjusting his position to study a new human visualization.

  This one showed a person frantically climbing a mountain, fleeing from a group of indistinct shadows chasing them. While the climber’s face was blurred, their fear was palpable through their panicked movements.

  Zamian frowned as the visualization abruptly shattered and restarted. This time, the climber’s movements were calm, measured, and precise, as if the fear had never existed.

  Confused, Zamian shifted his focus, searching for similar anomalies in the other human visualizations. Yet, none of them displayed the same sudden breakdown or reset.

  Noticing how he couldn’t grasp the secret behind the external visualization method, he thought, ‘Let’s at least use this time to cultivate.’

  Biting his lip, he attempted to gather essence, feeling it enter his body. Yet, somehow, he instinctively knew it wasn’t enhancing his true cultivation. “How do I even know this isn’t working…?” he muttered, unsure.

  Suddenly, all the external visualizations vanished as a wave of dark green light swept across the room, obliterating them. The energy expanded outward, reaching the tower’s edges, before rushing back to the center—straight into Lin Zhi’s hand.

  The monstrous teacher clenched the glowing green mass in his six-clawed bony fist, extinguishing it in an instant.

  “Now,” Lin Zhi’s buzzing voice echoed, the scales on his right arm shifting as he extended his open hand toward the crowd, waving it slowly. “I shall teach you the seed of struggle. The seed of the beginning. The Seed… of Creation.”

  Zamian’s eyes widened, and his fists clenched tightly. A sudden concern passed through his mind. ‘If I learn this, will I still be able to return? I haven’t even fully grasped the external visualization method yet!’

  Conflicted between the potential of losing this chance and his unpreparedness, Zamian gritted his teeth, his glare fixed on Lin Zhi as he waited.

  The other disciples were similarly transfixed, though hushed whispers and murmurs rippled through the group.

  Unable to decipher what was being said, Zamian dismissed the noise, shoving it to the back of his mind as he focused on what was to come.

  Then, Lin Zhi’s buzzing voice returned. “As usual, this one needs a disciple to struggle against my technique.”

  The room fell silent.

  ‘These blighted monsters are scared,’ Zamian thought, glancing around before fixing his gaze back on the ever-calm Lin Zhi. ‘Good. It means I didn’t die for a pushover.’

  After a few breaths, Lin Zhi spoke again. “And, as usual, this one will choose a disciple if nobody volunteers.”

  The silence persisted.

  Just as Zamian thought Lin Zhi would select someone, a bird-headed disciple stood up and cupped his hands, speaking in the incomprehensible language the others used.

  Lin Zhi nodded, his tone unusually cheerful. “Disciple Tian is brave. Falling three times to form a Core, yet still struggling to prove your worth to advance in the Nature Pathway.” He gestured. “Please, come forward.”

  Meanwhile, Zamian was baffled. ‘Core? What’s that? Nature Pathway? Shouldn’t it be called the Creation Pathway here?’

  Rather than dwell on his confusion, he grinned. ‘More things to learn—good!’

  After Tian approached, Lin Zhi formed a wooden platform in the center, reminiscent of a tree trunk cut in half. Tian stepped onto it and cupped his hands toward Lin Zhi in a sign of respect.

  “Struggle and learn,” Lin Zhi said loudly, raising his right hand. Between his sharp claws appeared a familiar green orb, no larger than a fingernail, pulsing with a soft green glow.

  Zamian’s eyes widened at the sight. ‘I don’t feel any essence when he casts this technique! And to think he’s been using the Seed of Creation all this time.’

  But one detail gnawed at him. ‘Where’s the baby’s cry? I swear I heard it glow the first time I was here.’

  His musings were interrupted as Tian let out a sharp cry. The bird-headed disciple’s feathers shimmered and began to transform, turning into green, leaf-like structures that shone brilliantly and swayed as if caught in a gentle breeze.

  The orb’s glow dimmed slightly as it came into contact with the radiant essence emanating from Tian’s leafy feathers.

  Lin Zhi nodded approvingly. “Good. Your soul seems powerful enough to become a Warden.” After praising Tian, Lin Zhi flicked the tiny green orb toward him.

  ‘Warden,’ Zamian noted the term, saving it for later contemplation. At the same time, he reflected while accompanying the orb’s trajectory with his gaze, ‘I faced that technique as an Enlightened. At that time it felt impossible to escape… But now… Isn’t it too slow?’

  As if to prove his point, Tian moved far more quickly than Zamian had during his encounter. The birdman leaped into the air, forming a shield of glowing leaves behind him as he rushed toward Lin Zhi.

  Zamian watched intently as the green orb struck the invisible barrier around the arena.

  ‘Tian was expecting the orb to follow him,’ Zamian pondered, glancing at Tian’s shield.

  Lin Zhi remained unmoving, his claw already forming another glowing orb.

  The moment the second orb materialized, for just a single breath, Tian seemed to freeze—now only two arms’ lengths away from Lin Zhi.

  And that single moment was all the teacher needed.

  The creature with a face composed of a myriad of insects and a disgusting smell flicked the ball once more while it still glowed, burying it in the center of the birdman’s chest.

  Tian’s white robe was destroyed, but for another single breath, the green-leafed feathers that covered him held the tiny green ball.

  Sadly, before he could take another step, the tiny ball entered his body.

  Hastily dismissing his technique, he knelt down, a green glow radiating from his chest, and the tiny hole in his body closed on its own.

  Unlike Zamian, Tian didn’t thrash around, nor did his body begin to break apart. Instead, he seemed to be feeding the green orb a ridiculous amount of essence.

  ‘He has a lot of essence,’ Zamian thought grimly. ‘Way more than I ever had.’

  Zamian didn’t understand what Tian was doing, but the other disciples seemed to. They began whispering among themselves, some even shouting at Tian. Whether they were cheering him on, giving advice, or cursing him, Zamian couldn’t tell.

  From his position, Zamian could see the profiles of both Lin Zhi and Tian, and he soon noticed Tian’s body glowing green as spikes of essence radiated from him, shredding the remnants of his white robes.

  Once more, the sky turned green, Nature’s essence surging from all directions. A gale accompanied it this time, and to his astonishment, Zamian saw Tian’s body begin to float!

  Still in a kneeling position, the birdman floated above Lin Zhi, his entire body glowing with green light until only his silhouette remained.

  He was now a green figure, seemingly made entirely of glowing essence, and nothing more.

  As Zamian stared in amazement, a buzzing noise pulled him back to the moment.

  “What a shame. But it was a good struggle. Farewell, Disciple Tian,” Lin Zhi said suddenly.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Before anyone could react, Tian’s figure shone with a green blinding light—and exploded without a sound!

  The ground trembled, and if not for the invisible barrier surrounding the area, Zamian was certain no one would have escaped unscathed.

  And the reason was simple.

  Lin Zhi, who had remained motionless until now, summoned a myriad of roots to shield himself, each one resisting the explosion’s force.

  But as fast as Lin Zhi created them, they crumbled.

  And Zamian was sure of one thing: those roots were the most resilient material he had ever encountered. He could feel it in his bones, still shaking with the explosion.

  After a few breaths, the explosion subsided, and where Tian had once been, there was nothing but hundreds of roots covering the platform.

  Lin Zhi stood above it all, gazing silently at the white-robed disciples.

  Zamian then noticed that all of those roots originated from Lin Zhi’s legs—he had been expanding his own body, letting it be destroyed to protect himself, if that makes sense.

  Still shaken by the scene, and as Nature’s essence dispersed, Zamian heard Lin Zhi’s buzzing voice once more:

  “Today’s lesson is over.”

  The world seemed to pause once more, and as all color disappeared, the white light materialized into a crystal with sixteen sides within Zamian’s soul space. He quickly exited, avoiding being pulled back at Lin Zhi’s tower, and opened his eyes in the garden.

  His hands were trembling, but not out of fear.

  He was excited!

  “That power… It can kill a Chosen, I’m sure,” he muttered, clenching his fists. Even if he couldn’t use that technique while still a Zealot, he didn’t care! “That can be my hidden thorn for when I become a Chosen,” he said.

  “I need to get stronger,” he whispered, focusing his mind on controlling his body—his heart rate, breathing, even the trembling. Taking deep, measured breaths, he continued, “Core… Warden… I need to know more about those. Blighted Lin Zhi, should I start asking questions to that thing?” He paused, unsure if the teacher, who casually killed his students and called it a day, would entertain him.

  Though he knew he couldn’t die in that place, a troubling thought entered his mind. “Now that I think about it… I learned nothing from that demonstration,” he grumbled.

  If before the last session, he knew nothing about the Seed of Creation technique, now he at least understood what it was, though he still couldn’t grasp how to cast it.

  Standing up, Zamian resolved not to return there without a clear plan in mind.

  “Let’s cultivate,” he said, walking to his bag, picking fruits, and eating them.

  Before starting his visualization, he willed the White Dot to show his stats.

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 3 [00%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 200/600

  Mind: 200/600

  Soul: 370/600

  Glaring at it, he grumbled again, “Come on, I’m sure I have some essence inside me. Are you saying anything too little doesn’t even count? You only show me whatever you want, you blighted thing.”

  Shaking his head and dismissing the text, Zamian reflected on his stats. ‘I spent hours crawling through tunnels, then I had to run from my father and whatever was chasing him… Yes, my right leg is better, but overall, I feel like a tree fell on me.’

  Massaging his head, he walked to one of the streams of water and started to clean himself, tossing the fruit he had been eating to the side. “I need to relax, but can I afford to?” he asked himself, smirking.

  Drinking water and playing with it for a few moments, he stepped out of the stream, picked up the fruit, and retrieved its seeds.

  “Can’t save Father by resting too much, right?” he muttered, planting one of the seeds and sending a small trickle of essence into it.

  His eyes flashed green and then white as he started walking around, visualizing himself being born once more. Little by little, he refined the image in his mind of how he looked before birth. Meanwhile, in the physical world, strands of essence connected him to each seed he planted.

  His pace slowed, and on the ground beneath Zamian’s feet—where dozens of seeds had been planted—an outline of a larger image began to form.

  It resembled a fetus.

  Inside the pale cultivator’s mind, he was finally satisfied with the appearance of the unborn baby’s body and proceeded to visualize its birth.

  Last time, because of his breakthrough, he had to stop. But this time, nothing held him back.

  As the white light of birth shone upon him, Zamian was startled to experience the perspective of the newborn baby. Crying, he felt dirty, and the pressure in his lungs was greater than anything he had ever known.

  His head began to ache as Nature’s essence surged through him, correcting countless flaws. Though he couldn’t yet see his surroundings, there was one thing with far too many flaws that demanded immediate attention—himself!

  The first flaws he corrected weren’t even after birth but during the process itself. He felt the world squeezing against his fragile skin, bones, and muscles. His tiny structure, too delicate to withstand such force, seemed on the verge of shattering at any moment.

  Zamian visualized the baby as if it were filled with green sap. With each contraction, this sap was forced out through its lungs, only for essence to rush in through its nose. It burned—harsh and unrelenting—tearing through him before finally settling within.

  When the baby was finally born, the pressure didn’t ease. On the contrary, it grew worse. Other particles of different essences—like a relentless, foreign force—pushed their way into his body, invading through his pores, eyes, nose, mouth, ears—everywhere.

  Breathing—no, cultivating—this multitude of essences was not just painful. It felt wrong. His fragile body resisted, instinctively trying to block it out, allowing only a small amount to settle inside as his system struggled to stabilize.

  Light pierced his still-forming eyes, burrowing deep into his unprepared senses. Sounds, sharp and overwhelming, slammed into his awareness—the harsh breathing, the air moving around him. The breeze brushed against his raw, delicate skin like sandpaper.

  And most intensely, the call for severance—the natural order to break his connection to the root that tied him to his mother’s womb.

  Fear overwhelmed him.

  As much as Zamian controlled the visualization and knew what was meant to happen next, he suddenly caught himself not wanting to follow nature’s knowledge.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ he thought, understanding by the whispers what he was supposed to do. ‘I don’t want to lose her again.’

  Zamian forced his eyes to open and saw a vortex of green essence above his head—flowing into him not only from above but also from below.

  Slowly, the energy settled inside him, and the strands of essence connecting him to the new saplings below his feet dispersed.

  Taking a deep breath and sighing, Zamian swept the sweat from his forehead and muttered, “Is this the only way forward…”

  And then, a notification appeared in front of him.

  Your cultivation level capped

  Level: 3 [100%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Do you want to force a Level Up?

  Zamian stared at the screen.

  And waited.

  A few moments passed.

  He then chuckled. “My instincts aren’t useful for everything, as it seems.”

  With a calm tone, he answered the White Dot. “No.”

  As the screen faded away, he sat down, ripping a blade of grass from the ground and putting it in his mouth.

  “Are you insane?” he asked himself.

  “Yes, I am,” Zamian answered, shaking his head once more.

  “There is no way this would be the right move,” he muttered, staring at the white dot at the corner of his vision. “But why would you want me to fall for this?”

  At his previous level up, he had capped his stats.

  Not only that, but he was sure Zealots weren’t supposed to be this strong so soon after breaking through. Truth be told, most Zealots he’d met were far weaker than him!

  The White Dot assisted him, of course, accelerating the final process, but it didn’t force him to become a Zealot either. And that was the final clue—the question at the end, indicating this was all a bad idea.

  “I should cap my stats before leveling up,” he sighed heavily. He was tempted to become a Chosen, for a moment, but it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t dangerous, as his instincts didn’t react, but he knew he would regret taking such a shortcut.

  “Anyway, at least I learned once again to not depend on my instinct,” he shrugged and willed the White Dot to show all his information.

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 3 [100%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 700/700

  Mind: 400/600

  Soul: 100/600

  REWARDS

  Ancient Astral Seal

  Description: A Star Seal guarding your Astral Self.

  Ancient Identify Technique (Passive)

  Description: See the secrets beyond the limitations of time

  QUEST LOG

  Last Quest: Save Bohlo and Lakea

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Incomplete

  Main Quest: Destroy an Unholy Sapling before the end of the month

  Reward: Special Physique (??)

  Status: Ongoing (09 days left)

  After reading the text and staring at it, Zamian dismissed it with a chuckle. His head hurt, as he stared at his cultivation level.

  ‘I gathered so much power in so little time…’ he thought, laughing.

  Holding his belly, he kept laughing.

  Tears streamed down his face, and the laugh turned into a cry—tinged with rage.

  “Why!” Struggling to control himself, he held his head, squeezing it. His muscles bulged. “Why didn’t you come sooner, you blighted thing.”

  Two years.

  It had been two years since Zamian received the White Dot.

  He knew he wouldn’t have had time to save his mother, of course. But…

  “If only… If only I had this power four days ago…”

  It took more or less a day of cultivation to fully recover his physical condition and gather all the essence he could currently store inside him.

  And at most, he would need to rest a little longer to restore his soul points.

  “This strength, this recovery… How many people could I have saved… Aunt Misandra… She didn’t have to die…”

  He punched his face and saw blood splatter from his nose onto the ground below.

  Looking at the crimson stain, Zamian ground his teeth. Once more, he had to focus to regain control of himself.

  “All cultivators are crazy,” he muttered, his eyes wild, red, and shaking.

  “But I need to become stronger. I have people to protect. People to avenge. People to save!”

  He gazed at the White Dot, steeling himself, his voice a shout. “So I can’t go crazy!”

  Noticing movement, Zamian turned toward the garden’s door. Someone had knocked and was waiting outside.

  Breathing deeply, he walked to the door, closing and opening his eyes to gather his thoughts.

  Opening the door, he found Tulip standing there. She looked noticeably cleaner than before, dressed in a simple green dress. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and a faint citrus-like scent wafted from her—a subtle, calming fragrance.

  As a slight frown formed on her face, Zamian sighed.

  “I know,” he said, flashing a green glow as light wooden armor covered his body. “Happy now?”

  “No,” she replied, licking her thumb and brushing it beneath his nose. “You have blood on you. What happened?”

  Zamian stared into her dark blue eyes and blinked.

  Tulip smiled at him.

  “Anyway, you’ve been in there for more than a day. Do you want to eat? It’s last meal time,” she asked gently.

  “Am I the meal?” he asked. His mind, which had just begun to cool, heated up again. “I mean, what is the meal?”

  Chuckling, Tulip answered, pointing at herself. “Me.”

  “...”

  “I’m joking,” she said, turning around and motioning for him to follow. “It’s vegetable soup, grapes, cereals, and peach tea.”

  Sighing, Zamian thought, ‘Maybe I need to take a rest to not go insane.’

  Closing the door behind him, he followed Tulip.