From the perspective of Zhuge Yu Jin
Yu Jin sat in a meditative position, his legs firm upon the cold ground, while above him an ancient spiritual fruit shimmered in unmoving flames. The tree that bore it had a twisted trunk and branches laden with spheres red as embers — each one, if touched by careless hands, would burn with the fury of molten metal.
The air around was heavy, dense, as if the heat itself had forged an invisible wall.
Not far away lay the memory of a battle: the corpse of a colossal serpent, as long as two mature trees and thick as the trunks that upheld the forest. Its scarlet body now lay motionless, a clean cut severing its head from its torso. The dried blood still smoked faintly, saturating the air with a metallic, bittersweet odor.
Yet Yu Jin did not move.
He remained in silence, breathing calmly, eyes closed, as if the world around were nothing but distant noise. What mattered was inside. It had always been inside.
Then — the first fissure.
Behind him, a presence took form.
His Martial Soul rose like a blazing mirage: flames of violet hue, searing and yet ethereal, danced upon an endless plain of white. The contrast was so violent it seemed an impossible dream: fire that did not consume, and a horizon without limits, empty, silent, merely waiting to be filled.
The purple flames ascended in spirals, coiling like dragons of pure celestial fire. Each undulation lit the surrounding whiteness, as though the void itself were forced to acknowledge Yu Jin's existence.
And around it, encircling that erupting sea of purple, a magnificent halo shimmered — a ring of violet light so intense the air itself quivered in lament. It was not a color that should exist in this fragile world. It was the mark of something fate had tried to seal, yet failed to bury.
The silence lingered.
Then, Yu Jin slowly opened his eyes.
They burned.
Not with the heat of the flaming fruits above his head, nor with the memory of the serpent's blood before him, but with the flame of one who, for the first time, breathed as though he were fire itself.
The newborn silence was broken not by sound, but by thought.
An ancient voice, hoarse and laden with ages, resounded within Yu Jin's dantian — not from outside, but from the very foundations of his being.
— A soul of violet grade… a potential of violet grade. I suspected it… but to see it confirmed is truly remarkable.
Yu Jin kept his eyes open, still fixed on the void before him. His lips moved slowly.
— Violet grade potential, senior?
The voice replied with ease, as though it had already taught the same lesson to countless disciples who would never remember it.
— You probably do not know the concept of Spiritual Potentials. Well… they are not as important as many believe, but they still hold their weight.
The purple flame behind Yu Jin flickered, as if it too listened.
— Every living being in this world is endowed with a spiritual potential. They are divided by colors, from the lowest to the highest: Gray, Brown, Green, Cyan, Blue, Indigo, Violet, and Gold.
The enumeration rang like distant bells, each color echoing a different weight in Yu Jin's mind.
— The greater one's spiritual potential, the greater the ease in cultivating spiritual energy. Thus, someone with a violet potential like yours may cultivate, under the same conditions, up to twice as fast as someone with a green potential, for example.
Yu Jin furrowed his brows. His breathing remained steady, but a spark of expectation flashed in his eyes.
— In other words, the voice continued, it is purely the natural talent and gift of a person to become a cultivator.
The purple heat swelled, as if in approval. But the voice did not cease:
— In the end… that is all it is. After all, no cultivator, unless a true aberration of legend, can truly grow without opportunities, determination, and persistence.
Yu Jin tilted his head slightly, as though pressing the words deeper into his mind.
— An aberration of legend, senior?
The laugh that echoed in his consciousness was dry, brittle like ancient firewood.
— Beyond the eight potentials I listed… there is one more. The White Potential. Such a being is cherished by both heaven and earth. A complete absurdity.
Yu Jin fell silent for a few moments. Then he murmured, with a trace of restrained resignation:
— I see.
The voice, as if it had pierced his thoughts, remarked:
— Dissatisfied with your potential?
A brief ironic smile curved Yu Jin's lips.
— Not really, senior. After all… only a few months ago, I was considered trash. A violet grade potential is already good enough for me.
— As I said, potential is just that: potential. Without opportunity, determination, and persistence, even a golden potential is useless. My creator was born a mere mortal with Gray potential, yet rose to become a lord of the world.
The purple flames rippled, reflecting the weight of those words.
— Besides — the voice added, lower, as if revealing something it should not — it is not truly impossible to alter one's potential… but that is not something you will see in a small world like this.
Yu Jin's eyes narrowed.
— A small world, senior?
— That too… you will learn in the future, answered the elder of the Subtle Pearl, closing the lesson with the tone of one shutting a half-open door.
The elder's words echoed within him, even as silence reclaimed the clearing.
Yu Jin slowly closed his eyes, allowing the violet heat of his Martial Soul to retreat once more into the depths of his dantian. The echo of the lesson lingered like a gentle fire in his mind: potential is only that… potential.
And in that instant, the decision long matured was finally sealed in his heart.
Returning home had become tolerable.
No longer the cold gazes of the elders.
No longer the silent contempt of his generation.
Some even praised him now, as though time had erased years of disdain.
Even so… he would not stay.
Not out of rancor — though he remembered well the feeling of being called useless — but because he knew he could not grow within the narrow walls of the clan. He understood his elder brother's isolated style, that silent cultivation that blossomed without attracting attention. But that was not his path.
He needed opportunities. He needed to clash with the world, to seize from it whatever was necessary. Only thus could he surpass all those who had trampled him in the past.
He raised his gaze. In the distance, beyond the curtain of trees, he could see the outline of the Capital of the Flame White Empire. The city seemed to breathe light beneath the gray sky, a cluster of rooftops, walls, and towers, so near and yet so far.
Nearly three months had passed since he left home. The journey had been relatively smooth, marked by small confrontations and long days on the road. Now he stood in the Black Forest — a vast region near the capital, used by novice cultivators to train and seek small fortunes.
The beasts that lived there were not powerful, rarely surpassing the second level. Still, they were enough to keep his blade sharp and his spirit alert.
In just one more month, the selection of the Seven Great Sects would begin. The true stage where his decision would be tested.
Without hesitation, Yu Jin stood. The dust of meditation still slid from his shoulders, and the flame in his eyes shone with renewed resolve.
It was time.
But before he could take the first step toward the city, a faint sound drew his attention. Muffled conversations, youthful laughter… and the careless rustling of bushes being pushed aside.
Yu Jin turned, muscles tense, his gaze shifting toward the noise.
From the tangle of bushes, four young men emerged in sequence, their robes neat, adorned with embroidery that betrayed wealthy lineages and careful upbringing.
They were no common wanderers of the forest. Each exuded the confidence of one who had never needed to fight for bread with blood.
But their eyes…
did not fall upon Yu Jin.
None seemed to notice the cold gleam still present in his upright stance, nor the rhythmic breath that bore traces of his meditation.
Instead, the focus of their gaze converged behind him — upon the tree laden with scarlet fruits that pulsed like embers.
The desire in their eyes was so blatant it was almost comical. Four heirs, sons of noble families or branches of local sects, before a spiritual treasure… and unable to conceal their greed.
Yu Jin remained still.
His dark eyes followed each detail: the faint creak of jade belts at their waists, the way one's fingers already brushed the hilt of a short sword, the hurried disguise of a forced smile.
So that's it…
They did not come for the hunt. Nor for training. They came for the fire burning above my head.
The purple flames, still hidden in his dantian, quivered faintly, as if laughing at the irony.