The afternoon sun slipped behind the western hills.
One by one, the children scattered toward their homes, still arguing about giants, demons, and which of them would awaken the strongest Cosmic Soul.
Mo Xuan brushed the dirt from his trousers, bowed politely to Grandpa Yi, and hurried down the village path.
Grandpa Yi watched until he was completely out of sight.
The smile never left his face.
"What an interesting lad," he whispered to himself.
His fingers rested gently against the rough bark of the ancient Wutong Tree.
The breeze returned.
Leaves rustled overhead.
For an instant—
the air around the old man rippled almost imperceptibly.
The bent figure sitting beneath the tree straightened.
The wrinkles faded.
Snow-white hair darkened like ink flowing across silk.
The patched robes transformed into garments woven from shimmering starlight, embroidered with constellations that seemed to drift across the fabric as though alive.
The frail storyteller vanished.
In his place stood a cultivator whose presence seemed capable of suppressing heaven and earth.
His eyes, calm and immeasurably deep, followed the direction in which Mo Xuan had disappeared.
A faint smile touched his lips.
His body dissolved into countless motes of light that scattered upon the evening breeze.
Only the ancient Wutong Tree remained, its leaves swaying gently as though nothing unusual had happened.
Far away, the cheerful laughter of children echoed through the village.
Morning arrived with the fragrance of dew-soaked earth and blooming wildflowers.
Golden sunlight spilt over the eastern hills, washing Willow Creek Village in a warm glow as smoke curled lazily from stone chimneys. Roosters announced the dawn with far more confidence than talent, while farmers emerged from their homes carrying hoes across their shoulders, exchanging familiar greetings as another peaceful day began.
To the villagers, it was no different from countless mornings before it.
To one small boy...
It was the most important day of his life.
Mo Xuan awoke before the first rooster crowed.
His eyes opened instantly.
There was no trace of sleep lingering upon his face.
He simply stared at the wooden ceiling above his bed for several long moments, listening to the quiet sounds of the house.
The crackling of firewood.
The soft chopping of vegetables.
The rhythmic scrape of a whetstone against metal.
His father was already awake.
A smile spread across the boy's face.
Today...
was his sixth birthday.
More importantly...
Today was Awakening Day.
He sprang from the bed with more enthusiasm than dignity, nearly tripping over the blanket wrapped around his feet before stumbling onto the wooden floor with a muffled thud.
"Ouch..."
He rubbed the back of his head before quickly glancing toward the door.
No one had seen that.
Good.
After all, future wealthy people should maintain some dignity.
The modest house contained only three rooms. It was simple but elegant.
The scent of breakfast drifted from the kitchen. Mo Xuan followed it immediately.
A voice drifted over. "The little lazybones is finally awake."
Mo Xuan puffed out his cheeks. "I'm not lazy."
"Oh?"
His father laughed.
"I see."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Mo Xuan nodded with complete seriousness before climbing onto a wooden stool.
"If I become rich today..."
"...I'll hire people to gather firewood."
His father nearly choked. "There it is."
"What?"
"The first thing on your mind."
Mo Xuan looked genuinely confused. "What?"
"Money."
"Oh."
The boy smiled proudly. "Of course."
His father shook his head helplessly. "I've never met another child who dreams of Spirit Stones instead of becoming an immortal hero."
"Heroes still need Spirit Stones."
"...You have a point."
Mo Xuan immediately reached for one of the steamed buns.
His father lightly tapped his hand.
"Wash first."
"...I was only checking if it was warm."
"It is."
"...Then I confirmed it successfully."
He laughed softly.
"Go."
Grumbling under his breath, Mo Xuan obediently walked toward the basin near the doorway.
After breakfast, his father disappeared briefly into the bedroom before returning with a neatly folded set of clothes.
They were still simple.
Plain blue robes stitched from coarse cotton.
Every stitch was perfectly straight.
The cuffs had been reinforced twice.
Even the collar had been embroidered with tiny white clouds.
"They're beautiful."
Mo Xuan carefully touched the fabric.
His father smiled. "Try them on."
A few moments later...
The boy stood before the polished bronze mirror hanging on the wall.
He turned left.
Then right.
His father burst into laughter. "You look handsome."
Outside, the Mo clan had become unusually lively.
The Mo Clan was the largest family in Willow Creek Village, and its ancestral hall stood at the settlement's eastern edge.
Children dressed in their finest clothes ran excitedly, their parents struggling to keep pace behind them. Today, every child who had reached the age of six would awaken together.
The Mo Clan's ancestral courtyard had never been so crowded.
People filled every available space, their voices blending into a low murmur of excitement and anticipation. Elderly couples leaned upon walking sticks, mothers held younger children close to keep them from wandering into the crowd, while fathers stood with folded arms, pretending to appear calm despite the anxiety hidden behind their expressions.
For today was more than a ceremony. It was a day upon which countless futures would be decided.
Some children would awaken their Cosmic Souls and pursue the path of cultivation. Others would remain mortal.
No parent knew which fate awaited their child. That uncertainty weighed upon every heart.
Near the centre of the hall stood a circular platform carved from pale jade stone.
Ancient runes covered its surface, winding across the polished floor like vines frozen in time. Though weathered by countless ceremonies over the years, they continued to emit a faint silver glow, proof that the formation remained active.
At the centre rested a crystal sphere nearly as tall as an adult.
Its surface was clear, yet beneath that transparent shell countless motes of light drifted slowly through its depths, like stars floating within a night sky.
The Awakening Crystal.
To mortals, the crystal was priceless. To cultivators, it was merely a low-grade spiritual treasure—but even one such treasure represented a fortune in Willow Creek Village.
For cultivators...
It was merely a low-grade spiritual treasure.
Even so, one such crystal was worth a fortune.
A sudden hush spread through the crowd.
An elderly man dressed in flowing grey robes slowly approached the platform.
Unlike the others, his clothes were very elegant. Embroidered across the sleeves were delicate silver runes that shimmered faintly whenever sunlight touched them.
The Village Elder immediately stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"Runist Zhao."
The old cultivator inclined his head politely.
"I trust the preparations are complete."
"They are."
"Good."
Runist Zhao surveyed everyone gathered.
Although no visible aura surrounded him, there was something about the old man's presence that naturally commanded respect.
His movements were unhurried.
His breathing steady.
Even the restless children instinctively quietened as he stepped onto the platform.
He placed one weathered hand upon the Awakening Crystal.
The runes carved across the jade platform gradually brightened.
A soft hum echoed through the square.
The crystal responded.
Light began swirling gently beneath its transparent surface.
Runist Zhao looked over the crowd before speaking.
His voice was calm, yet every word carried clearly to the farthest edge of the square.
"Today marks the beginning of a new journey for the children gathered before me."
His gaze rested briefly upon the crystal.
He paused.
"Some of you will awaken powerful Cosmic Souls. Others will receive ordinary ones. A few may awaken nothing at all."
He allowed the silence to settle.
"But remember this: a Cosmic Soul is not the measure of a person's worth. It is only the beginning of a path. Where that path leads depends on the one who walks it."
Mo Xuan blinked. He liked that answer much better.
The children were called forward one by one. A little girl stepped onto the platform, her hands trembling as Runist Zhao guided her toward the crystal.
The remaining children formed a line while their anxious parents watched from beyond the formation.
"Place your palm here."
She obeyed.
For several seconds...
Nothing happened.
Then the crystal shimmered.
A warm yellow light emerged from within its depths before flowing gently into the girl's body.
Behind her, a translucent image slowly appeared.
"Grade Two." Runist Zhao nodded approvingly.
"Next"
One after another, the children awakened.
Grade One.
Grade Two.
Grade Three.
A few even reached Grade Four, drawing startled cheers from the crowd.
Every successful awakening was greeted with cheers.
Every ordinary result brought quiet encouragement.
Then... A boy placed his hand upon the crystal.
Nothing happened.
One breath. Two. Three.
The crystal remained completely still.
The silence felt heavier than any words.
Runist Zhao slowly withdrew the child's hand.
The child's mother rushed forward, pulling him tightly into her arms before he could ask another question.
Yet the disappointment hanging over his family was impossible to ignore.
Mo Xuan quietly watched them return to the crowd.
He had never seen an adult trying so hard not to cry.
Runist Zhao glanced toward the remaining children.
"Next."
Mo Xuan heard his name.
His heart skipped once.
"Mo Xuan."
Every sound in the hall seemed to disappear.
His father squeezed his shoulder one final time.
Mo Xuan inhaled slowly.
Then stepped forward.
The crowd parted to let him pass.
Each footstep echoed louder than the last inside his own mind.
At last...
He stood before the Awakening Crystal.
Its surface reflected his small figure perfectly.
Runist Zhao smiled.
"Do not be afraid."
He gently placed Mo Xuan's hand upon the crystal.
"Close your eyes."
"Empty your thoughts."
"And listen..."
"...to your soul."
Mo Xuan obeyed.
Darkness filled his vision.
For one breath, he heard nothing but the frantic beating of his own heart.
Then, far beyond the peaceful skies above Willow Creek Village, a sword flashed across the heavens.