Initiating breakthrough to Level 3 - Mortal Tier - Creation Pathway

  As Zamian’s pale body and shoulder-length black hair began to take on a greenish hue, an invisible white essence surged from the surroundings and entered his body. It fused with his skin, bones, and muscles, fortifying everything from his heart to his brain.

  Unaware of the intricate process happening within him, Zamian’s mind was occupied with a flood of thoughts.

  ‘Wh-wha,’ utterly baffled, he couldn’t help but feel overjoyed. ‘Is this right? Shouldn’t the breakthrough happen in the middle of visualization?’

  He recalled his father once explaining that a cultivator’s breakthrough required deep concentration, gathering essence while chanting and visualizing simultaneously.

  ‘But this doesn’t seem to be the case for me,’ he thought, a faint smile forming. Instead of closing his eyes, he watched the trees sway gently, their movements following the breeze created by the pressure radiating from him.

  The whispers from his instincts grew louder, clearer as if more voices had joined in—a chorus only he could understand. ‘Yeah, all cultivators are crazy if they deal with this,’ he jested.

  And then, nature’s knowledge came.

  ‘So it can be like this,’ he thought, now mesmerized as his gaze lingered on the trunk of a tree. ‘It’s so much better than in visualization.’

  He remembered the moment he became an Enlightened and how the knowledge to cast the Everbark Technique had flowed into him. Through practice, he corrected his flaws and learned to use essence to transform his skin and muscles into a bark-like structure. It made his body more durable, and resistant, but also rigid.

  He expected a similar process when ascending to Zealot. Yet now, as essence continued to gather and strengthen him during the breakthrough, something new unfolded before him—he could see the next technique forming.

  “Nature’s Embrace,” he murmured, his eyes alternating between a greenish glow and a bright white light, both flashing steadily. New knowledge bloomed in his mind, knowledge he hadn’t possessed before. “I am part of nature, and nature is part of me. One day, I’ll repay nature for what it gives me, but until then, it will keep blessing me with the gift of growth.”

  Zamian extended his right hand, and green essence surged through his arm. The energy gathered and fused, forming a protective layer from his wrist to his shoulder. A flexible yet durable bark, darker than what the Everbark Technique produced, materialized. In his hand, a short wooden stake appeared, its surface marked with natural grooves and patterns common to trees.

  “No need to practice, no need to chant—it almost feels like I was born knowing it,” Zamian murmured, marveling at the piece of wooden armor and the wooden weapon created by the Nature’s Embrace technique. He could feel the surge of power as if he was evolving into something greater. The breakthrough process was nearing its conclusion.

  “Uh?” He lowered his hand, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “This can’t be right.” Bringing his hand closer to his face, he scrutinized it carefully, the green hue on his skin fading slightly. “Why does my hand look like a forest?”

  His eyes, still flashing between green and white, remained oblivious to their peculiar glow.

  “Yes, the veins are roots, these tiny hairs resemble grass, and my fingers—saplings,” he muttered, dazed and mesmerized by the transformation.

  A sudden thought struck him. With narrowed eyes, he cast the Everbark technique on his open hand. As green essence enveloped his hand, he maintained the Everbark layer while activating Nature’s Embrace.

  Sending green essence outward while keeping both techniques active, he envisioned a baby’s tiny hand being formed. Guided by this mental image, he began to reshape the structure of the two techniques, blending the rigid durability of Everbark with the flexible strength of Nature’s Embrace. The fusion was seamless.

  “Beginning of the Cycle,” Zamian whispered, dumbstruck, as he gazed at his hand. Now appearing stronger, bigger, more flexible, and carved from what he could think as sacred wood, his transformed hand radiated a green aura. “My body is the beginning of my cycle.”

  His instincts told him—that was his natural reward for having enlightenment!

  “My own technique,” he muttered, his voice trembling. As his hand reverted to its pale, frail-like state, the green hue vanished entirely. “Like a Chosen, I have a technique of my own,” he said, a feeling of self-satisfaction blooming inside his chest.

  As the flashing white and green light in his eyes subsided, notifications materialized in his vision.

  Breakthrough to Level 3 - Mortal Tier - Creation Pathway finalized

  Analyzing current status…

  PERSONAL INFORMATION

  Name: Zamian Greenfield

  Level: 3 [01%]

  Tier: Mortal

  Main Pathway: Creation

  Title: None

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 400/500

  Mind: 400/500

  Soul: 380/500

  Congratulations on reaching Level 3

  Completed Hidden Quest: Level up once before the end of the month (11 days left)

  Reward: 100 points for every stat

  Status: Completed

  +100 Body Points

  +100 Mind Points

  +100 Soul Points

  STATS POINTS

  Body: 500/600

  Mind: 500/600

  Soul: 480/600

  Zamian hastily stood up, but with a loud boom, his body was thrown against the vines at the side, partially breaking the wall. Dazed, he breathed heavily, but he was otherwise unharmed as he stared at the scene with wide eyes.

  Still adjusting to the surge of essence now coursing through his body and the unknown changes brought to his soul and mind, he had used far more strength than he intended.

  Not only that, his thoughts were in complete disarray, chaotic as countless questions filled his head.

  “Eleven days left?” he muttered, his voice trembling. “Impossible. Have I already spent two days here? What happened? And why don’t I have more muscles?”

  His father shouldn’t have taken more than a day to handle his matters and return.

  “What took so long? Father said this would take two days for me to become a Zealot, but I was sure I’d finish in less than one with what I learned from Lin Zhi and the amount of essence in this garden!” he muttered, detaching himself from the broken wall and taking careful steps as he adjusted to his new body.

  Looking at the crater in the ground and the shattered vines and trunks that now formed a small hole to the outside, he whistled. “Well, well, well. If I hugged Bohlo now, he’d turn into tree sap.” Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, “No, this isn’t the time for jokes. I need to figure out what happened. Focus, you blighted pale vermin.”

  Noticing his chaotic trail of thoughts, Zamian sat down, closing his eyes and willing essence to flow within him. He discovered that, without the need for chanting, he could command nature’s essence to move with simple intent. Like a swimmer returning to water after years away, it took him a moment to adjust, but he quickly got the hang of it.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Instead of immersing himself in visualization, he used the essence to soothe his mind and pass it through his body, taking stock of his current condition.

  ‘I don’t remember being this confused or out of control when I became an Enlightened,’ he mused while meditating. ‘Yeah, as usual, having the White Dot’s assistance comes with both benefits and… Surprises.’

  Moving his neck and opening his eyes, Zamian slowly stood up. He began walking in circles, occasionally touching the broken vines with care and, at other moments, swiftly plucking flowers.

  Throughout the process, his body remained tense but gradually began to relax. “Focus, focus,” he muttered under his breath.

  As he grew more accustomed to his movements, he exhaled deeply. “It’ll take time to fully understand my limits,” he said with a faint smile. “Now that I’m a Zealot, it’s time to leave here, find father, and handle the next priority on my list.”

  Looking at the crater on the ground, he noticed that all his previous writing had been obliterated.

  “...”

  Scratching his head, Zamian picked up a broken piece of bark from his rough landing and began writing on it with his finger, which easily cut into the wood.

  “Find father. Tell him about the external visualization method. Learn more with Lin Zhi. Learn the Seed of Creation technique. Destroy the Sapling. Research the Red World. Learn more about Verdant God and how he blocked knowledge from people’s minds. Learn how to activate the white essence and see if it’s possible to cultivate two or more pathways—red essence doesn’t seem to be compatible with the Nature Pathway,” he read aloud after finishing his writing, carefully storing the piece of wood in his pants.

  He did a few jumps and stretched his body, smirking as his gaze landed on the part of the wall where he remembered Bohlo sitting earlier, back before his father had reshaped it along with the rest of the garden. “Let’s try this out,” he said, casting both the Everbark and Nature’s Embrace techniques on his right arm.

  His arm turned a dark brown color with a greenish hue, its muscles defined and looking as though they’d been intricately carved from wood by a master artisan.

  “This is so cool. I hope this can make…” Just as he prepared to punch the wall, a notification appeared.

  New Side Quest: Save Bohlo and Lakea

  Reward: 01 Book from White Tower's First Floor

  Status: Ongoing (1 hour left)

  “...Bohlo scream in surprise,” Zamian muttered, completing his thought as he launched the punch. Though his hesitation cost some momentum, the impact still landed with a resounding crack that echoed through the enclosed space.

  An explosion followed, yet Zamian’s body remained unmoved as fragments of wood, flowers, vines, fruits, and leaves scattered around him. Dust rose into the air, while massive chunks of shattered trees and vines were hurled to the other side of the garden, accompanied by startled screams.

  As the dust began to settle, Zamian’s eyes alternated between a green and white glow. He peered through the destruction, noticing a path of toppled trees and three figures coughing as they stood amidst the debris.

  All three were clad in wooden armor, holding wooden spears.

  Zamian focused on the green text floating above their heads:

  [LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  [LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  [LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - CREATION PATHWAY]

  Behind them, a crumbling wall of dirt and stone revealed two additional figures partially obscured by the collapsing structure.

  The text above their heads were highlighted in brown:

  [LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - ATTACHED PATHWAY]

  [LEVEL 3 - MORTAL TIER - ATTACHED PATHWAY]

  While the three Creation Pathway cultivators wore wooden armor with masks that left their hands, mouths, and noses exposed, the two from the Attached Pathway dressed differently. They donned light, flowing garments that covered their faces but left their arms and feet bare.

  These garments were loose, dyed in earthy tones of yellow, brown, and white. The fabric appeared coarse and worn, smeared with dirt and speckled with embedded brown and yellow particles, as though marked by years of exposure to sand and dust.

  Their face coverings allowed only their eyes to peek through, the material stained and grimy as though untouched by washing for ages. The loose fabric swayed gently with their movements, while their uncovered arms and feet bore a thin layer of dirt, further emphasizing the ruggedness of their attire.

  As the dust on the other side of the garden continued to swirl, Zamian moved. His gaze sharpened as his thoughts aligned.

  ‘One percent,’ he noted, his perception making the world around him seem to slow. ‘I have one percent of the essence a Zealot can hold.’

  While becoming a Zealot wasn’t easy, it was a matter of time and a great amount of essence. Talent wasn’t a necessity; anyone who reached a bottleneck in essence while being Enlightened could become a Zealot within a few days at most, relying on nature’s knowledge to guide them through visualization.

  To become a Chosen, however, was far more difficult. Never in the Sanctuary’s history had there been more than fifty Chosen at a time, while Zealots numbered in the hundreds, Enlightened in the thousands, and commoners in the hundreds of thousands.

  Though the number of Chosen didn’t seem incredibly rare, one had to remember they lived hundreds of years longer than Zealots. Most secluded themselves in the Lord’s Tree or Stargazing Tree, dedicating their lives to cultivation and serving the Verdant God.

  ‘These guys must be full of essence,’ Zamian thought, willing his own essence to flow.

  There shouldn’t be any reason for Zealots, who cultivated with such pain and effort, to waste their essence on anything besides their wooden armor and weapons. They would only spend essence to create and dismiss it.

  ‘I can’t give them time. I need to go all out,’ he resolved, pushing every last drop of essence he could muster. Zamian’s body flashed with green light as he leaped high, using a tree branch for leverage, and hastily chose his target.

  (Outsider’s POV)

  “Outsiders! How did you mess this up?” I heard one of the Sanctuary’s wooden cultivators shout, their voices grating on my nerves. It was too soft, too squirmish—like all of them.

  Like me.

  “What are you talking about, grassling? You’re the ones who broke the wall!” Toran shot back, his rough voice brimming with anger. I was focused on crumbling the earth wall I’d hastily created to shield us from the earlier explosion, but even I couldn’t ignore how riled up he sounded.

  For a place surrounded by dirt, the Earth's essence here was pathetic. If Toran had more to spare, I wouldn’t put it past him to throw a clump of mud at that obnoxious Zealot just to make his point.

  I smirked, sensing a pulse of green essence above the blast zone in the trees. Turning to Toran, I jabbed a finger in their direction to egg him on. “Look at these grasslings! You can feel their disgusting energy from here, and they still have the nerve to blame us.”

  I expected Toran to bark curses or stomp in frustration, like usual. Instead, he slammed his foot into the ground with determination, summoning not one, not two, but five Bonded Spheres.

  Each one was a tightly packed mass of dirt and stone, about the size of a human head. I knew their density—those spheres were heavy enough to shatter bones with ease. Toran wasted no time launching them toward the Sanctuary cultivators.

  For a moment, I was stunned. “Toran! They’re supposed to be our allies!” I started to shout, but before I could finish, a gut-wrenching sound cut through the air.

  It wasn’t just the crash of Toran’s spheres. It was a combination of sharp noises that sent chills down my spine and raised every hair on my body. Without thinking, I cast Linked Protection, forming a wall of dirt twice my height and five times my width.

  I then commanded it to move in the direction of the three Sanctuary’s cultivators.

  Without sparing another glance, I bolted through the path of broken trees, Toran at my side. He cursed loudly, hurling more Bonded Spheres behind us as we ran.

  My mind raced, processing the sounds from moments before.

  First, there was a cracking sound—wood breaking? Then two screams. The five Bonded Spheres hit, thunderous upon impact, and… The squelch.

  Yes, the squelch. A sound I’d heard before, when a weaker cultivator was struck by Linked Protection or when someone fell from the Giant Tree—the unmistakable sound of a body meeting the ground.

  Against my better judgment, I glanced back, trying to soothe my racing thoughts and silence the instincts screaming against the action.

  How I wish I hadn’t looked.

  Behind us, smashing through the remnants of my wall and clutching two mangled bodies—one in each hand—was a monster.

  From head to toe, it looked entirely crafted of wood.

  Unlike the wooden armor of the Sanctuary’s cultivators, its form was alive.

  Even its toes and fingers moved with fluidity, as though the wood itself had gained life. Its face was smooth and bald, completely covered, with only its eyes exposed.

  And those eyes blinked constantly, flashing between white and green light. The creature towered over me, standing three or four heads taller and twice as broad. Each step it took shook the earth beneath my feet.

  Worst of all, it was using the mangled bodies as shields.

  Toran’s Bonded Spheres struck the corpses, even with my brother's unmatched skill.

  As I was preparing to cast a technique to stop that beast, a sudden force slammed into my back, sending me tumbling forward.

  “Kurt, look out!” Toran’s hoarse voice reached me, disdain laced in every syllable.

  I realized that Toran had used one of his Bonded Spheres on me.

  ‘Why did he push me…’ The thought barely registered when I turned to see the nightmare unfold.

  The monster’s human-like hand, now forming a flat palm, pierced straight through my brother’s chest like one of those Zealot's spears.

  Blood sprayed as Toran’s face twisted, his lips curling in defiance.

  Two sturdy walls of earth, stone, and grass rose on either side of him, formed by Toran using the Linked Protection technique. They seemed sturdier than the one I had created earlier, infused with more essence.

  All of Toran’s remaining essence.

  With blood staining his lips, my brother glared at me. I could read his curse clearly, even without sound: “Go get the others, you dirt-ass fool!”

  Summoning the last of his strength, Toran made the walls move, slamming them together with a deafening crash, striking himself and the monster.

  Shamefully, but luckily, I ran.

  It was a shame because I abandoned my brother, not even trying to kill him like I dreamed of doing someday.

  I know the bastard would do the same if I weren't useful.

  But I was lucky to flee because as I ran, I could hear the monster breaking through the walls, piece by piece.

  “Ahhh!” I screamed through sobs, tears streaming down my face as I rushed to look for the others.

  They could deal with this monster, right?