The First Step Towards Change

Scene 1 – Early Morning Training and Contemplation

The first light of dawn crept over Willow Shade Village, casting long shadows across the fields. The village, nestled within the rolling hills of the southern province, was one of many small settlements scattered across the land. It was surrounded by dense forests to the east and a slow-moving river to the west, which provided water for farming. A narrow dirt road led northward toward larger villages and eventually to a mid-sized town that served as a regional trade hub.

Willow Shade Village itself was isolated, the closest settlement being Stone Mill Village, nearly ten kilometers away. Further beyond, about a day's journey, was Twin River Village, a slightly larger settlement with more trade connections. Travel between villages was uncommon except for merchants and the occasional wandering soul master.

The region was peaceful but poor. With no noble family overseeing it directly, the villages were largely left to govern themselves, with Spirit Hall sending soul masters only for Martial Soul awakenings and minor administrative tasks. The absence of noble oversight meant less exploitation, but it also meant fewer opportunities for commoners to rise beyond farming.

Li Feng sat beneath the ancient willow tree near his home, cross-legged, his breathing deep and steady.

The old parchment from Old Lin lay beside him, but he no longer needed to read it. He had committed the meditation method to memory.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

His mind settled, the world around him fading.

He reached for the ripple in his spiritual sea, the faint movement of something beyond his physical self. The night before, he had touched it—barely—but today, he wanted more.

How do I expand it? If soul power is absorbed externally, does spiritual power need the same? Or does it refine itself through will?

He experimented, focusing entirely on the sensation within his mind.

The ripple trembled, like a pool disturbed by a breeze.

He pushed against it.

It resisted.

His brow furrowed. He tried again, this time not pushing, but pulling—drawing his awareness deeper, attempting to stretch his perception outward.

For a moment, he felt a flicker of something. A presence? A force?

Then, pain.

A dull ache spread through his forehead, like a weight pressing on his skull.

His breathing hitched, and the connection broke.

Eyes snapping open, Li Feng exhaled sharply. A thin sheen of sweat coated his brow.

I overdid it. My mind isn't strong enough yet.

He let out a small chuckle.

But it was working.

He could feel it.

Scene 2 – A Lesson in Reality

"Three," Old Lin said.

Li Feng, still stretching from his morning training, looked up. "What?"

The elderly village head sighed, sitting down on a nearby rock. "I did some thinking after the awakening ceremony. I counted how many children had beast-type Martial Souls."

Li Feng's expression darkened.

Three.

Out of nearly twenty children, only three had Martial Souls that allowed them to cultivate.

The rest, including himself, were considered useless in the world of soul masters.

Old Lin continued, "I've seen it happen every year. The majority of children in this village will never be able to cultivate. They will grow up, take up farming, and live ordinary lives. It's the way of things."

Li Feng clenched his fists. "It doesn't have to be."

Old Lin sighed. "You're young. You still think the world can be changed so easily."

Li Feng met his gaze, unwavering. "It can. It just needs a new method."

The village head chuckled. "And you think you can find one?"

"I don't think," Li Feng said. "I will."

Old Lin stared at him for a long moment. Then, to Li Feng's surprise, he let out a deep laugh.

"You're stubborn, boy. I'll give you that."

Li Feng didn't respond. He simply turned back to his meditation.

He had no interest in convincing anyone.

He would prove it through action.

Scene 3 – The First Experiment and Theorizing Qi

That night, after ensuring his family was asleep, Li Feng sat in his small room, a single candle flickering beside him.

His fingers traced the edges of a tattered book—a record of various Martial Souls passed down in the village. Most of it was useless to him, but one thing stood out.

A theory that soul power could be influenced by external forces.

If soul power can be influenced, then why not self-created spirit rings? Why not self-created soul bones?

He reached for a small knife, rolling up his sleeve.

A shallow cut. Just enough to draw blood.

The pain was minor, but his focus was elsewhere.

Pain sharpens awareness. If I concentrate while my body is under stress, will my spiritual sea react differently?

He entered meditation once more, this time with the sting of pain lingering in his mind.

The ripple in his spiritual sea trembled.

It's reacting… but why?

It wasn't soul power. It wasn't an external force.

It was his will.

The moment he sharpened his focus through pain, his spiritual sea grew more distinct.

It was like a muscle.

And muscles could be trained.

He closed his eyes again, deepening his meditation. His mind drifted to Tang San's Purple Demon Eye.

That technique was originally designed for vision and mental resistance. But it wasn't just about looking—it was about refinement. Training the mind through a set method, strengthening the eyes while simultaneously tempering the spiritual sea.

Tang San had cultivated the Purple Demon Eye daily, using Purple Qi at dawn to stimulate his eyes and mind.

Why did it require dawn? Was it just the stillness of morning? Or was it the presence of something in the air? A type of energy?

He frowned. If Purple Qi existed, what about other types of Qi?

Dawn was a transition between night and day, a moment when Yin and Yang shifted. Could different times of day hold different kinds of energy?

If morning has Purple Qi, then what about noon? Dusk? Midnight? What if different times of day influence the body and mind differently?

His fingers tapped against the wooden floor.

Purple Qi was used to strengthen vision and resistance to mental attacks. If that was the case—

Would other energies help refine the spiritual sea differently? What if some types of Qi helped cultivate soul power? What if others helped with recovery or endurance?

The idea was bold.

It meant that the time of cultivation might affect results just as much as the method itself.

He had no way of proving it yet.

But he would.

His eyes gleamed in the candlelight.

This was the foundation of something greater.

And he had only just begun.