A Different Path

Scene 1 – Willow Shade Village, Morning

The scent of damp earth lingered in the air as the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon. Farmers moved through the fields, hoes and rakes in hand, ready for another day of labor.

Li Feng sat on a wooden stool outside his home, hands wrapped around a simple clay bowl of porridge. His mother, a gentle woman with tired eyes, moved about the small house, preparing breakfast for the family.

His father, a broad-shouldered man with calloused hands, was already sharpening a hoe. Like most villagers, he had awakened a tool-type Martial Soul—one that granted no ability to cultivate. He had long accepted his fate.

Li Feng, however, had not.

He glanced at his own hands. Blue Silver Grass. Innate soul power of zero. No future as a soul master—at least, not by conventional means.

(But I already knew that. My path doesn't follow the rules of this world.)

His father's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Feng'er, come help in the fields after you eat."

Li Feng nodded. He didn't mind farm work. It was just another way to train his body.

And while his hands toiled in the dirt, his mind would cultivate something far more important.

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Scene 2 – The Fields

The fields stretched wide, lined with rows of sprouting crops. Farmers moved steadily, tending to the land.

Li Feng worked alongside his father, using a hoe to till the soil. His movements were smooth, efficient—muscle memory from years of repetition.

But today, he wasn't just working. He was experimenting.

(If I focus on my spiritual sea while performing physical labor, will it strengthen both at the same time?)

He slowed his breathing, sinking into a meditative state even as he worked. His awareness expanded, taking in the sensation of soil shifting beneath his feet, the rhythm of his muscles, the heat of the sun.

The ripple in his mind grew stronger.

He adjusted his grip on the hoe. Each movement became more refined, more deliberate. He wasn't just relying on instinct—he was training his body and spirit in unison.

It was a slow process, but progress was progress.

Not far away, Old Lin observed the workers, his gaze drifting to Li Feng.

(That boy…)

He had seen countless children leave the awakening ceremony with shattered dreams. Most accepted their fate. Some rebelled in frustration, only to realize they had no power to change it.

But Li Feng was different.

Even now, after being declared talentless, there was no despair in his eyes.

Instead, there was something else.

Purpose.

Scene 3 – Old Lin's Gift

At midday, Old Lin called Li Feng over. The elderly village head sat beneath the shade of a large willow tree, sipping tea from a wooden cup.

"You've been working hard," he noted. "But I see something in you that I don't see in most children."

Li Feng remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.

Old Lin sighed. "You don't look lost. Most children who fail the awakening ceremony struggle for a while before accepting their fate. You, though… you already knew."

Li Feng's fingers curled slightly.

"…Maybe," he admitted.

Old Lin studied him for a long moment. "I won't pry, but I'll ask one thing. Are you planning something dangerous?"

Li Feng met his gaze.

"What would you do if I was?"

Old Lin chuckled, shaking his head. "At my age? Not much. But if you start something reckless, the village will be affected."

"I won't bring harm to the village," Li Feng said simply.

Old Lin nodded, satisfied. "Then I'll trust you to keep it that way."

He took another sip of tea, then reached into his robe, pulling out an old, worn parchment. He handed it to Li Feng.

"Here. This is an old meditation method a wandering monk once taught me. It's not for soul masters—it's for calming the mind. Simple breathing, focusing on your inner self, clearing away distractions. Some say it can strengthen willpower."

Li Feng took the parchment carefully, his eyes scanning the faded writing.

"Why give it to me?" he asked.

Old Lin smiled faintly. "I don't have any use for it anymore. And I have a feeling you might."

Li Feng bowed slightly. "Thank you."

Old Lin simply waved him off. "Just don't go doing anything foolish."

Scene 4 – Contemplation and a New Path

That night, after the village had quieted, Li Feng sat cross-legged in his room, the parchment spread out before him.

"Close your eyes. Breathe in, hold it, then exhale slowly. Focus only on your breath. If your mind drifts, bring it back to your breathing."

Simple.

Li Feng followed the steps, inhaling deeply. The sensation of air filling his lungs was steady, grounding.

He exhaled, slow and controlled.

At first, nothing felt different. But as he repeated the process, something shifted. His thoughts, usually scattered, began to slow. The ripple in his mind—his spiritual sea—became clearer.

(If the spiritual sea is like an ocean, then this meditation is like stilling the waves.)

But stilling the waves wasn't enough. He needed to expand them.

(If I assume soul power grows by absorbing external energy, then spiritual power must grow through internal refinement.)

The connection between Martial Souls and spiritual power had always intrigued him.

(A Martial Soul is an extension of the soul, but its form is predetermined. If the soul itself is weak, then even a powerful Martial Soul becomes useless.)

Tang San's Purple Demon Eye allowed him to withstand soul shocks far beyond his level. Huo Yuhao's Spirit Eyes gave him an overwhelming mental advantage. Both techniques strengthened the mind first, allowing them to resist and later overpower their enemies.

(Is it possible that a strong enough spiritual foundation can override the limitations of a Martial Soul?)

His Blue Silver Grass was considered one of the weakest Martial Souls. But why? Was it simply because it lacked destructive power? Or was it because those who awakened it never had the means to cultivate beyond their natural limitations?

(What if I reinforce my Blue Silver Grass with spiritual power? Could it evolve beyond its natural form? Could it resist suppression?)

It was a theory, but one he intended to test.

He adjusted his focus. Instead of just breathing, he concentrated on the ripple in his mind. He pushed against it, trying to stretch his awareness further.

The sensation was faint, like pressing against an invisible wall. But he felt something shift.

(It's working.)

A small smile played at his lips.

He had found his path.

Not the path of a soul master.

Not the path of a noble warrior.

But the path of his own making.

And for the first time, he truly believed—

The road ahead was his to carve.