The morning sun rose over the sprawling Ashborne estate, golden light spilling across the valley below. From here, one could see the edges of the Aldoria Continent, vast and filled with life. Mountains pierced the sky like jagged teeth, rivers wound like silver serpents across the plains, and distant forests whispered secrets older than memory.
This was a land ruled not merely by kings and governors, but by cultivation families, sects, and clans—each seeking power, reputation, and mastery over the energies of the world. Soldiers trained under brilliant masters, families protected their legacies, and secret schools taught techniques that could bend the very currents of the earth, air, and fire.
The Ashbornes, though living in relative peace, were one of the most respected bloodlines in the continent, holding strength from two powerful families that had merged generations ago. Their power was not just raw cultivation, but also knowledge, wealth, and influence. Elders often joked that their estate could rival the might of a minor kingdom.
Zephyr, however, cared little for politics or lineage. He crouched in the garden, hands tracing invisible currents, small orbs of energy hovering above his palms. To him, the world was a puzzle, a playground filled with flowing patterns and unseen forces. Yet even in his play, he noticed how the world worked—the disciplined soldiers marching in formation, the whispers of energy from neighboring estates, the way the wind shifted when the mountains called to the rivers.
He had overheard the adults speaking once:
"The Aldoria Continent is… unsettled," Kael had said, leaning against the balcony. "Faction rivalries flare, but the laws of the families still hold. No one dares break the accords openly."
Elara had nodded. "Yes… the War of Bloodlines may have ended decades ago, but ambition never sleeps. Children like him… they will need guidance—or else be swept away by chaos."
Zephyr didn't understand all the words, but he felt the tension in the land. He noticed the soldiers' energy patterns, the aura around wandering cultivators, and even the subtle currents in the fountains of his estate. He mimicked movements he didn't yet fully comprehend, testing flows, spinning his small orbs, letting instinct guide him.
Nearby, families like the Thorncliffs, Moonriver Sect, and even small wandering clans practiced openly. Some were fierce and proud, their energy potent, disciplined, and intimidating. Zephyr watched, learning quietly, observing how cultivation shaped society, how power created respect, fear, and opportunities.
Night fell, and the continent seemed to hum in silence. Dreams returned, fragments of another life merging with the pulse of this one. He saw vast landscapes, bright sunlight on unfamiliar cities, strange machines, and fleeting knowledge he could not name. Waking, he rubbed his eyes, small hands reaching instinctively toward the ceiling, feeling a call for exploration, experimentation, and understanding beyond even the estate walls.
By the next morning, Zephyr arranged leaves, stones, and sticks into patterns reminiscent of the flows he had seen from distant cultivators. His movements were precise, yet natural, a child's instinct fused with a spark of genius.
"Flow… yes… spin… stronger…" he murmured, watching the objects respond. Leaves hovered in spirals, sticks balanced midair, and even the faint wind seemed to obey his motions.
Elara watched quietly, whispering, "Even amidst this vast, dangerous continent, he notices the small patterns others overlook… the currents of life and energy that define this world."
Kael's eyes glimmered. "Yes… he senses the first threads of the Spirit Realm… and beyond. But let him be a child. Let him play and learn. In this continent, those who grasp power too soon may crumble; those who learn by instinct… may bend it to their will."
Zephyr spun again, small orbs of energy circling like fireflies. To him, Aldoria Continent was a playground, a living map of forces, currents, and patterns, a world full of wonders and hidden paths. For now, he was just a child—curious, fearless, and independent—but the continent's whispers already recognized him, and something in its depths stirred in response to the tiny storm he had begun to create