The platform collapsed beneath Mo Xuan's feet.
A violent shockwave swept across the courtyard, knocking everyone to the ground.
And at the centre of that silver storm, Runist Zhao stared at the boy.
"Sword energy...? That's impossible."
Runist Zhao swallowed hard, his own fear barely concealed. "Let us hope his will to survive is strong."
Mo Xuan could barely hear them.
The world was turning black around the edges. His body felt as though it were being torn apart from the inside—muscle by muscle, meridian by meridian, soul by soul. Every breath was agony. Every heartbeat was a hammer striking his skull.
He wanted to scream again, but even that seemed impossible.
Then, through the pain, he heard his father's voice.
"Son!"
The cry was raw, desperate, filled with a father's helpless terror.
Mo Kang's voice broke as he shouted, "You promised you'd make big money! Fight! You have to live if you want to become rich!"
For a moment, the words made no sense. Money? Now? Here, at the edge of death?
Then they struck Mo Xuan's mind with the force of revelation.
Big money. Riches. Gold. Treasure.
Golden mountains rose in his imagination, one after another, endless and dazzling. Vaults filled with Spirit Stones. Silk robes. Fine meals. Houses of carved jade. A life of comfort, freedom, and luxury beyond counting.
He had no idea whether that future could truly exist.
But he wanted it. That desire blazed brighter than fear.
Yet no matter how hard he struggled, his body refused to obey. His tiny fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his palms. His body shook. Blood dripped onto the shattered crystal, but the pain no longer felt empty.
It became a furnace.
The greed in his heart surged, violent and stubborn, forcing him to stay conscious, forcing him to endure. The wound between his brows began to close, then he fainted.
Within the darkness of his Sea of Consciousness, the shattered rune flickered like a dying star. A strange symbol reappeared—unfinished, fractured, and impossible to understand.
A week later.
Morning sunlight filtered gently through the paper windows, painting soft patterns across a modest bedroom.
The room carried the comforting scent of medicinal herbs.
Bundles of dried plants hung from wooden beams overhead. Clay bowls filled with dark herbal concoctions rested neatly upon a nearby table, while several porcelain bottles stood beside them, their labels marked with the insignia of the Mo Clan's medical hall.
Everything was quiet.
Almost too quiet.
A finger twitched. Then another.
Mo Xuan's eyelashes quivered before his eyes slowly opened.
The ceiling above him appeared unfamiliar for a brief moment.
His vision blurred.
The wooden beams seemed to sway gently before gradually returning to focus.
His head throbbed.
It felt as though someone had driven an iron nail through the centre of his forehead.
He instinctively raised a hand toward the pain.
His fingers stopped halfway.
Every muscle in his body felt unbearably heavy.
Even lifting an arm required more strength than he possessed.
"...Water..."
His voice emerged as nothing more than a dry whisper.
The bedroom door flew open.
"Xuan'er!"
Mo Kang rushed inside so quickly that the wooden stool beside the doorway toppled over.
His usually calm face was filled with relief.
Without caring about appearances, he hurried to the bedside and grasped his son's hand tightly.
"You're awake."
His rough voice trembled ever so slightly.
"You finally woke up."
For a long moment, neither father nor son spoke.
Mo Kang simply sat there, gripping the small hand as though afraid his son might disappear again if he let go.
Mo Xuan blinked several times before recognition returned.
"...Father?"
A broad smile spread across Mo Kang's face. "I'm here."
The boy looked around the room slowly. "...How long?"
"You've been unconscious for seven days."
Seven days.
The number stunned him. His last memory was of the Awakening Crystal...
The unbearable pain...
Then... Nothing.
Fragments of memory flashed through his mind.
Before he could grasp them, they slipped away like mist.
His hand instinctively touched the centre of his forehead. Beneath his fingertips was only smooth skin.
Only a faint warmth lingered beneath the surface.
"What happened?"
Mo Kang's smile faltered.
The change lasted only an instant.
Yet Mo Xuan noticed it immediately.
His father had always been honest with him.
Mo Xuan frowned. "...Did I awaken?"
Silence.
The question lingered between them.
Mo Kang looked away briefly before forcing another smile.
"You've only just regained consciousness."
"The physician said you shouldn't think too much."
"Rest first."
"We'll discuss everything after you've recovered."
The answer… wasn't what he expected.
Mo Xuan lowered his eyes.
The truth was probably not something worth celebrating.
The following days passed quietly.
Every morning, physicians from the clan arrived to examine him.
Some checked his pulse.
Others circulated strands of Soul Power through his meridians before leaving with increasingly puzzled expressions.
They spoke in whispers outside the room.
Whenever Mo Xuan asked what they had discovered...
The answer never changed.
"Rest."
So he rested.
Another three weeks passed.
Early spring slowly spread across the Mo Clan Estate.
Flowers bloomed beneath the courtyard walls.
Young disciples trained from dawn until sunset, their excited shouts echoing through the estate as instructors corrected stances and demonstrated cultivation techniques.
Life continued, whether one child's awakening succeeded or failed.
One month after the ceremony, Mo Xuan finally stepped outside.
His body remained weak.
Walking across the courtyard left him breathing harder than it should.
His complexion was still pale, and a faint ache lingered deep within his chest whenever he moved too quickly.
Even so...
Standing beneath the open sky again felt wonderful.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
The scent of flowering plum blossoms drifted gently through the air.
"I thought I'd forgotten what fresh air smelled like."
A familiar laugh came from behind him.
"You still look terrible."
Mo Xuan turned.
His cousin, Mo Ming, walked into the courtyard carrying a small wooden box beneath one arm.
She looked exactly as she always had.
Confident.
Proud.
Completely incapable of speaking gently.
She tossed the box toward him.
He barely managed to catch it.
"What is this?"
"Medicine."
He opened it.
Inside lay several neatly arranged Spirit Pills, each giving off a faint medicinal fragrance.
His eyes widened.
Mo Xuan looked at her suspiciously.
She folded her arms.
"Either take them willingly..."
"...or I'll make you."
Despite himself...
Mo Xuan smiled.
For the first time since awakening...
The heaviness inside his heart eased just a little.
That evening, the clan's Chief Physician finally delivered the verdict.
Mo Kang sat silently beside his son's bed.
The Chief Physician's expression was solemn.
"His Cosmic Soul did awaken."
Hope briefly flickered across Mo Xuan's face.
Then the Chief Physician continued.
"...but it is defective."
The room fell silent.
Those two words...
Changed everything.
The words lingered in the room like an invisible weight.
"...It is defective."
Mo Xuan stared at the Chief Physician, certain he had misheard.
The Chief Physician nodded slowly, his expression carrying neither pity nor disdain, only regret.
"Something unimaginable occurred during your awakening. The fact that you survived is a miracle in itself."
The physician picked up a clay cup from the table and slowly filled it with water.
"This is what a stable Soul Foundation looks like."
The water remained still.
The Chief Physician picked up another cup. It had several tiny cracks running along its sides.
"And this is yours."
He poured water into it.
"Your Soul Foundation is damaged. Spiritual energy will leak away before it can gather. If you attempt to cultivate, the backlash may destroy your meridians—or worse."
Silence filled the room.
Mo Xuan watched the water disappear from the cracked cup without saying a word.
The demonstration was simple. That was what made it cruel.
Mo Xuan understood at once.
The water could not remain in the cracked cup.
And spiritual energy would never remain in him.
He could not cultivate.
Mo Kang lowered his head.
His fists tightened beneath the table. The verdict he feared had become true.
After offering a few words of comfort, the Chief Physician quietly departed.
The wooden door closed behind him.
Only two people remained.
Mo Kang.
And Mo Xuan.
No one spoke for a long time.
Outside, the sounds of young disciples training echoed faintly through the estate.
Wooden practice swords collided.
Instructors shouted corrections.
Occasionally, laughter drifted across the courtyard.
Life continued exactly as it always had.
Only this room felt different.
Mo Kang finally broke the silence.
"You don't have to become a cultivator to be rich."
"There are many ways to live."
Mo Xuan smiled faintly.
His father reached over and gently held his hand.
"No matter what happens..."
"...you are still my son."
Mo Kang's eyes had reddened.
"You don't need to force yourself."
"I only want you to be happy."
Mo Xuan looked at his father.
He knew he was trying to comfort him.
But somehow...
That only made his chest feel heavier.
That night...
Sleep refused to come.
Moonlight spilt through the paper window, casting pale silver across the room.
Mo Xuan lay quietly on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
The following morning, Mo Xuan slowly made his way through the Mo Clan estate.
The clan was large, with dozens of courtyards connected by stone paths lined with flowering plum trees.
Everywhere he looked, disciples were cultivating.
Some sat cross-legged beneath ancient trees, absorbing the spiritual essence of heaven and earth.
Others practised runic forms in the training grounds, their energies flashing beneath the morning sun.
Children his own age laughed excitedly as they experimented with their newly awakened Cosmic Souls.
One boy summoned a talisman above his palm.
Their faces shone with excitement.
Mo Xuan stopped walking.
For a brief moment, he imagined himself standing among them. A talisman glowing above his palm. A Cosmic Soul answering his call. His father watching with pride.
Then he remembered the cracked cup.
He quietly looked away.
The other children continued laughing.
Mo Xuan stood alone beneath the flowering plum trees, his hands clenched at his sides.
The world had already decided what he was.
Defective.
A cripple.
Someone without a future.
Mo Xuan lowered his gaze.
"Fine," he whispered. "If I can't walk the path everyone else walks…"
His fingers slowly tightened.
"…then I'll find another one."