Dawn painted the sky in gentle hues over Cloudhaven Valley, a modest region in the outer territories of the Azure Continent. Here, where the morning mist still clung to endless herb gardens, the Li clan had maintained their ancestral home for generations.

Li Yun moved carefully between rows of spirit herbs, his hands steady as he tended to the delicate Azure Heart Grass. At sixteen, he was considered the least talented of his generation—a fact his relatives never tired of mentioning. Yet none could fault his dedication to the herb gardens.

"Young Master Li," Old Chen, the garden overseer, approached with a worn basket. "The morning harvest needs sorting. Remember, the Azure Heart Grass must be gathered before the sun touches its leaves."

"Yes, Senior Chen." Li Yun's voice was respectful as he accepted the basket. After ten years of working the gardens, he understood the precise timing each herb required.

As he worked, distant sounds of cultivation practice drifted from the clan's training grounds. His cousins would be there now, learning to circulate qi and master basic techniques. Li Yun pushed the familiar pang of regret aside, focusing instead on his tasks.

The Li clan wasn't powerful by any measure. They sustained themselves by cultivating and selling medicinal herbs to larger sects and noble families. Their cultivators rarely progressed beyond the basic Qi Condensation realm, with only the clan elders reaching Foundation Establishment.

Li Yun's position in this modest hierarchy was at the very bottom. His spirit root testing at age six had revealed the weakest aptitude the clan had seen in generations. While his cousins manipulated basic qi and learned elementary techniques, he had struggled to sense even the faintest trace of energy.

"At least you have a talent for herbs," his father often said, trying to soften the disappointment. It was true—under Li Yun's care, the spirit herbs seemed to flourish particularly well.

This morning felt different somehow. As he carefully harvested the Azure Heart Grass, Li Yun noticed something unusual in the soil—a faint gleam that seemed to shift when viewed directly.

Curious, he gently brushed aside the earth. There, nestled between herb roots, lay what appeared to be a simple gray pearl. It was roughly the size of his thumb, its surface slightly clouded, looking completely ordinary.

Yet something about it called to him. As Li Yun reached to pick it up, the morning mist seemed to still for just a moment. His fingers touched the cool surface.

There was no flash of light, no surge of power—nothing that would draw attention. The pearl simply felt... right in his hand, as if it had been waiting for him. When he slipped it into his pocket, it seemed to warm slightly against his skin.

"Young Master Li," Old Chen called out. "The second batch needs attention!"

The rest of the morning passed normally. Li Yun completed his duties with typical care, the pearl a constant, subtle presence in his pocket. Only that evening, in the privacy of his small room in the clan's outer courtyard, did he examine his find more closely.

The pearl looked even more ordinary in the candlelight. Yet as he held it, Li Yun felt something he'd never experienced before—a faint awareness of the space around him, as if he could sense the very air in his room more clearly.

It wasn't the crude qi sensitivity his cousins described. This was different, more fundamental somehow. When he moved the pearl near his dantian, that sea of potential energy all cultivators possessed, it seemed to respond with gentle warmth.

Following instinct, Li Yun sat in the basic meditation posture he'd learned from watching others. As he focused on the pearl, it grew slightly warmer. Then, with no drama or spectacle, it simply... merged with his dantian.

The changes were subtle. Li Yun felt no surge of power, saw no brilliant lights. Instead, he began to notice small details he'd missed before—how air moved through his room, the precise way his candle flame danced, patterns in the wooden floor's grain that somehow felt significant.

"Young Master," a servant's voice called from outside. "Third Elder requests tomorrow's herb quotas be prepared before morning practice."

"Understood," Li Yun replied, his voice steady despite the excitement building in his chest. Something had changed—something profound yet subtle.

As he prepared for sleep, Li Yun noticed his movements felt more... precise, as if he better understood how his body moved through space. The pearl's warmth in his dantian was a constant, gentle presence, like a friend quietly offering support.

Let others train with showy techniques and loud proclamations of power. Li Yun had found something different—something that whispered of deeper truths waiting to be understood.

The weakest son of a modest clan had taken his first step on an extraordinary path. He just didn't know it yet.