Chapter 2: The Power of Creation
The forest was still. Only the chirping of insects and the distant howls of beasts disturbed the night. Liang Chen sat cross-legged beneath a crooked pine tree, his frail body illuminated by the pale moonlight.
The Bible in his soul glowed faintly, the words he had heard earlier burning in his heart:
"In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth."
He whispered the verse softly, again and again, as though tasting each word for the first time. His breathing slowed, his thoughts quieted. Unlike the cultivators of this world who circulated qi through their meridians, Liang Chen prayed.
Slowly, a vision opened before his mind.
At first, there was nothing—an endless void, vast and suffocating. It stretched on forever, darker than the forest night, heavier than despair. For a moment, his heart trembled. Was this not the truth of his life in this world? A void without root, a body without hope?
But then—light.
A spark pierced the darkness, tiny but unyielding. It grew brighter, pushing back the void. Liang Chen's eyes stung with tears as the words resounded once more in his soul.
"In the beginning…"
His breath caught. If God could begin creation from nothing, then even I, mocked as trash, can begin anew.
Warmth surged through him. His tired limbs, once trembling, felt refreshed. His weary heart was renewed. It was as though strength flowed from that single phrase. He understood.
Comprehension: Renewal.
Even in failure, he could always rise again.
⸻
The vision shifted. The spark grew into vast light, unfolding into an endless sky. The heavens stretched above him, pure and magnificent. Stars shimmered like silver lanterns, distant yet eternal.
"…God created the heaven…"
Liang Chen's spirit trembled. Heaven was not born from chaos but from order, spoken into existence by God Himself. That meant creation was not blind chance—it was under divine authority.
As he meditated, his mind became sharp, his heart steady. He sensed the movement of life around him: the rustling leaves, the scurrying of small animals, the faint presence of danger lurking at the edge of the forest. His spirit felt lifted above the mundane, as though a veil had been torn away.
Comprehension: Spiritual Perception.
He could feel what others could not—the unseen currents of life and intent.
⸻
The vision deepened once more. Beneath the sky, land rose up, solid and immovable. Mountains stretched tall, rivers flowed endlessly, and the ground beneath his feet thrummed with divine power.
"…and the earth."
A shiver ran through his weak body. Earth was stability, the foundation of all that lived. God had not only formed the heavens but also the soil to stand upon. If the heavens uplifted his spirit, the earth anchored his flesh.
His bones hardened faintly, his breathing grew stronger, and his frail figure seemed less fragile. Though no qi circulated in his meridians, his body carried a subtle weight, like a stone rooted deep in the ground.
Comprehension: Earthen Body.
His foundation was no longer that of a cripple—it was a creation strengthened by divine order.
⸻
The vision faded. Liang Chen opened his eyes. The forest looked the same as before, but to him, everything was different. The night no longer pressed on his chest. He could hear clearly, feel deeply, and stand firmly.
He touched his chest, a quiet smile forming on his lips.
"No spirit root? So what. I do not need one. The Word of God is my root."
The Bible in his soul pulsed with gentle light, its pages no longer blank. On the first page shone the verse he had meditated on, radiant with life. The second page stirred faintly, as if awaiting the next revelation.
Rising to his feet, Liang Chen looked toward the distant lights of his clan. He knew what awaited him there—mockery, disdain, rejection. But tonight, his heart was unshaken.
Because in his soul, he carried the power of creation.