The cold still lingered in the air as Li Heng stepped into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the thin layer of snow that stained the stone pathways. The late winter wind carried a biting chill, yet the sight of his two sons, Li Yuntai and Li Xun, standing together near the pavilion, brought warmth to his heart.
Noticing their expressions, he approached them, his thick cloak shifting as he walked. “Did anything else happen while I was away?” His deep voice carried both authority and concern.
The brothers exchanged a glance before bowing to greet him "greeting to father" shaking their heads. “No, Father,” Li Yuntai answered. “Nothing unusual.”
Li Heng studied them for a moment. His years as a guard had trained him to read even the subtlest of expressions, but for now, he chose not to press further. He let out a slow breath, his gaze shifting toward the distant mountains beyond the estate walls.
“Since we still do not fully understand what happened,” he finally said, “it’s best we go and check the monument where it was hidden.”
The weight of his words settled over them. Li Xun and Li Yuntai nodded in agreement.
Without further delay, the three moved towards the secluded ancestral chamber, located deep within the Li family estate. It was a place rarely visited, hidden beneath layers of stone and wood, known only to the direct family members. As they entered, the air became noticeably heavier, as if time itself had slowed within these walls.
Li Heng stepped forward, kneeling beside a section of the floor. With practiced movements, he reached beneath the ornate wooden tiles, pressing against a hidden mechanism. A faint click echoed through the chamber.
Slowly, the floor panel shifted, revealing an aged stone box carved with ancient inscriptions. The markings, once dull and lifeless, now pulsed faintly—like the embers of a long-forgotten fire, struggling to reignite.
The three of them exchanged wary glances.
Li Yuntai swallowed. “Father… it wasn’t like this before.”
Li Heng’s brows furrowed, his expression growing more serious. “No, it wasn’t.” He reached forward, brushing his fingers lightly over the surface of the box. The moment he touched it, a faint hum resonated through the chamber, sending an eerie sensation up his arm.
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Something had changed. And whatever had been sealed within this monument… was no longer dormant.
The wooden, box-like monument sat silently in the hidden chamber, its ancient engravings barely visible in the dim light. Yet, within its depths, something stirred.
Inside the monument, Guo Chenwei sat in a cultivation posture, legs crossed, his form still mist-like, though slightly more tangible than before. His presence was ethereal—neither fully here nor entirely gone, lingering between the boundary of existence and spirit.
His half-formed fingers moved with a swift motion, sending out an invisible, intangible wave of knowledge. It was formless, unseen, yet it pierced directly into the consciousness of Li Yuntai and Li Xun—a silent decree of understanding.
The two brothers stiffened instantly, their minds flooded with knowledge beyond their comprehension.
Li Yuntai’s breath hitched as foreign understanding engraved itself into his mind. **Realms of cultivation, the nature of qi, the limitations of mortals—**everything unfolded before him in structured clarity.
Across from him, Li Xun let out a sharp breath, gripping his sleeves tightly.
The knowledge settled, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other, their eyes wide with shock.
Li Heng, noticing their change in demeanor, frowned. “What is it? You both look as if you’ve seen ghosts.”
The brothers looked at each other again before Li Yuntai finally spoke. “Father… something just entered our minds. It’s as if we suddenly understood things we never learned before.”
Li Xun nodded, still processing. “We now know what cultivation truly is, its realms, and… something else.” He hesitated, looking toward his father with a mix of guilt and sorrow.
Li Heng narrowed his eyes. “Speak clearly.”
Yuntai exhaled and said, “we can now cultivate immortal but You… cannot cultivate.”
The weight of those words hung in the air,
Li Heng’s frown deepened. “Explain.”
Li Xun swallowed before carefully recounting what had settled into his mind.
"To step onto the path of cultivation, one must begin before the body fully matures—ideally before the age of twenty-five. Any later, and the body’s natural circulation of energy would already have set, its meridians hardened and unable to adapt to spiritual qi.”
Yuntai continued, his voice low. “Your acupoints are already broken down, Father. Even if you had talent, your body has long been stained by the impurities of the mortal world. There is no way to reverse it.”
A long silence followed.
Li Heng sat still, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he let out a soft, almost bitter chuckle.
“So that is my fate,” he murmured. He leaned back slightly, gazing at the monument with something between resignation and understanding.
“It seems the heavens do not favor those who have lived too long in the mortal world.”
His words carried no anger, only the calm acceptance of a man who had already made peace with his limits.
Li Xun, still shaken by the vastness of what they had learned, spoke again.
“But Father… there’s something else. Something we didn’t think possible.”
Li Heng raised a brow.
Yuntai clenched his fists. “The Tao Seed. It allows us—who were born without cultivation talent—to walk the path.”
Li Heng’s brows furrowed slightly. “You mean to say that you… who had no natural ability, can now cultivate?”
Li Xun nodded, still in disbelief himself. “Yes. Even those without talent… can step onto this path, so long as the Tao Seed chooses them.”
Li Heng let out a slow breath, deep in thought. Something this miraculous should not exist.
And yet, it did.
The wooden monument, which had pulsed faintly before, slowly returned to stillness. Its engravings lost their glow, fading once again into the appearance of an ordinary relic, as if nothing had ever happened.
Inside, Guo Chenwei remained seated, his mist-like body still in deep thought.
The seeds had been planted. The path had begun. Now… it was only a matter of time.
