Darkness.
Not the usual darkness of night, filled with the hisses and snuffles of nocturnal life. This was a thick, damp, earthy darkness. Zhuo lay motionless in the narrow rock crevice, sheltered from the acid rain that still hissed outside. His body, though warmed by the earth's heat stored in the stone, trembled faintly. Not from cold. This was a residual tremor from the electrical shock that had raced through his nerves, a physical echo of the spark of consciousness that had nearly been extinguished.
His primitive impulses were in disarray. The impulse to "be still" competed with the impulse to "flee," and both were losing to a new sensation: a strange, empty feeling in his small head. Not empty from hunger. This was different. As if there was a space inside his skull that had previously been unoccupied, and now that space demanded to be filled... with something.
The rain finally subsided, leaving a world that smelled sharply of wet metal and churned earth. The first rays of sunlight infiltrated his crevice, touching Zhuo's snout. The impulse to bask, the most basic and powerful, finally took over. With stiff, jerky movements, like a rusted machine, he crawled out.
The world... felt different.
This was not a thought formed in words. It was an assault of intense, disjointed waves of sensation. The morning sunlight was not just warm; it stabbed at his eyes in a new way, forcing him to squint his transparent eyelids. The smell of the post-rain air was not just a signal that insects would emerge; it was an explosion of complexity—water, soil, iron, decaying life, growing life—each with a distinct nasal "flavor," clearer than ever before. The sound of a Silver Talon bird chirping in the distance was not just a warning; it had a pitch, a distance, and even a kind of... intent.
Zhuo stood on his flat rock, frozen, not basking, not hunting. Just... receiving.
His tongue flicked out, almost of its own accord. It captured air molecules. There was something else. Something that didn't smell like anything he had ever known. It came from the direction of the small pool in the rock fissure. It was a faint aroma, like the shadow of a scent, yet it felt profoundly important. Not important to eat or avoid, but important to... know.
Cautiously, filled with a new instinctual reluctance towards the unknown, Zhuo crept back toward the water source.
The pool was still there, its Moonlight Moss glowing faintly in the daylight. Water droplets still fell. But now, Zhuo didn't just sense the water. He sensed the source of that different flavor. It came from the rock wall, from the embedded crystal flakes. As he drew closer, the sensation grew stronger. The air around the crystals felt... pulsating. Warm and cool simultaneously. As he inhaled it, the empty feeling in his head was slightly... filled. Like drinking a drop of water after a thirst he hadn't known he had.
He extended his snout, his tongue touching the rough surface of a crystal.
ZZZT!
A small static shock, far weaker than the lightning strike, stung the tip of his tongue. Zhuo jerked back, startled. But this was not pure pain. Behind the sting was a burst of something else. A flash of energy that was instantly absorbed by his body, spreading like a potent warmth through his veins, banishing the last remnants of the tremor from the previous event. For a moment, his vision grew sharper, his hearing clearer. He felt... more.
This was Earth Qi, primordial energy trapped within the crystals for millennia. For a human cultivator, this is a resource to be carefully filtered and circulated through meridians. For Zhuo, it was medicine, poison, and his first teacher.
His now-confused instincts issued two contradictory commands: AVOID (because it stings, it's new) and APPROACH (because it feels good, it fills the emptiness).
Zhuo stood still, paralyzed by this internal conflict. Finally, the impulse to feel that burst of energy again, to replenish the emptiness that now felt more troubling, overcame his fear. He approached again, more carefully this time. Instead of licking, he merely brought his snout close to the crystal and... inhaled.
It was a normal breath. But as the air passed over the crystal, it carried minuscule particles of that energy with it. Zhuo felt it enter his primitive lungs, a spreading warmth. It was not as intense as direct contact, but subtler, more tolerable. The emptiness in his head was filled a little more. A faint "connection" was formed: Inhaling near the shiny rock -> good feeling.
This was his first lesson. His first experiment.
The following days were a repetition of this pattern. Zhuo would bask, but his attention would always be drawn back to the rock crevice. He would eat unfortunate Jingkings, but the satisfaction was diminished, as if his food was lacking the "something" he was beginning to recognize. He would evade eagles, but his fear was now accompanied by an awareness of himself as something separate from the predator, not merely an object that must escape.
He returned to the crystals again and again. Sometimes he just sat near them, feeling their subtle pulse. Sometimes he dared to touch them with his tongue, enduring the minor sting for the greater burst of energy. He learned that after rain, the crystals were "more active," emitting more of that energy. He learned that moonlight affected them too, providing a different "flavor" of energy—colder, more numbing.
One afternoon, as he sat basking, something else happened. A Poison-Root Rat, a fat creature with coarse fur and sharp rodent teeth, emerged from the bushes. These rats were not usually Zhuo's prey; they were too large and aggressive. Normally, Zhuo's instinct would be to freeze or flee.
But today, as the rat approached, sniffing for roots to eat, Zhuo did not freeze completely. His eyes, now more perceptive, observed the rat. He saw the way the creature moved, careless, focused on its sense of smell.
And for the first time, an impulse arose that did not stem from fear or hunger.
It came from the emptiness he now often felt, which thirsted for more "something." The rat was a living creature. Living creatures emitted a faint energy different from stone or plants, an energy that was warmer, more pulsating. Zhuo could feel it, faintly, like an echo of the crystal's energy but weaker and more chaotic.
Without a plan, without strategic thought, Zhuo moved. Not to flee. Not to attack. He just... approached. One careful crawling step. Then another. He wanted to feel this living creature's energy more closely. He wanted to see if it could fill his emptiness, like the crystals could.
The rat, sensing movement, stopped sniffing and looked up. Its small black eyes fixed on Zhuo. Its own defense instincts kicked in. It hissed, baring its sharp teeth. Zhuo froze, internal conflict returning. Approach. Avoid.
The rat, interpreting Zhuo's advance as a challenge or threat, hissed louder and jumped forward, not to attack, but to intimidate. The jump was short and quick, covering only the length of Zhuo's body.
It was enough.
Zhuo's survival instinct, older and deeper than his fragile new awareness, finally took over. He spun and darted away, his heart pounding once more. He hid behind a large rock, feeling the adrenaline flood his system.
But even after the fear subsided, something remained. An experience. He had approached something dangerous not out of hunger or thirst, but out of a desire to know. And he had survived. He had learned something new: that other living creatures also had that "something," and that this "something" could be a threat, not just an attraction.
That night, as he lay in his rock crevice, feeling the soothing vibrations of Earth Qi from the crystals, the "emptiness" in his head felt slightly different. It was no longer completely empty. It was now populated with the shadow of the eagle, the taste of the crystal, and the hiss of the rat. It was filled with differences.
And within those differences, ever so faintly, the seed of a thought began to form: The world was made of many "flavors," and he wanted to taste them all.