The faint light of the spiritual vein shimmered gently in the darkness, its fragile energy flow stabilizing within the confines of Liang Chen's carefully arranged formation. He sat cross-legged beside it, his breathing slow and deliberate, his thoughts focused on a cultivation path not dependent on Qi—the soul-cultivation technique he had begun practicing.
Weeks earlier, the revelation that soul-cultivation techniques could still function on Earth had sparked waves of intrigue and chaos. Someone, shrouded in anonymity, had released information explaining that while spiritual Qi was absent, the refinement of one's soul was still possible. Alongside this revelation came a single, low-grade soul-cultivation technique—a rudimentary method barely sufficient to unlock potential.
The world had erupted with hope and desperation, but the reality was harsh. Only a thousand individuals across the globe possessed souls compatible with the technique, rendering it inaccessible to most. Those who could practice found its progress slow and agonizing, the low-grade design riddled with inefficiencies.
The alliances scrambled to recruit these rare practitioners. For the Dragon Alliance, these soul cultivators represented potential weapons in a world devoid of spiritual energy. The Light Alliance sought to present them as symbols of hope, while the Neutral Alliance remained measured, noting the limitations of the technique and focusing instead on auxiliary professions.
Liang Chen, however, required no such external guidance. As a former Immortal Emperor, he had transcended mortal limitations, mastering the art of soul cultivation in its most profound forms. While the low-grade technique released to the public was of little value to him, it served as a reminder of the paths he had walked in his previous life.
In the solitude of the clearing, Liang Chen practiced a technique far superior to the one circulated worldwide. Its intricate structure and profound insights allowed him to shape and strengthen his soul with precision.
Closing his eyes, Liang Chen visualized his soul as a sphere of radiant light, its surface shifting and rippling like molten gold. He guided the light inward, compressing and refining its energy. Each cycle deepened his connection to his essence, the clarity of his mind sharpening with every moment.
Unlike Qi-based cultivation, soul techniques demanded a different kind of endurance—a mental fortitude honed through discipline and understanding. For Liang Chen, this was second nature.
The light grew steadier in his mind's eye, its brilliance intensifying as he completed another cycle. A faint pressure built around him, invisible but tangible, as the strength of his soul began to influence his surroundings.
Far from the clearing, the Neutral Alliance's Immortal cultivator leaned back in his chair, the lines of his face drawn in thought. The room was quiet, the only sound the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the polished wood of the armrest. Though the world's attention fixated on the thousand rare soul cultivators, his thoughts wandered to something far less tangible.
"A world's will…" he murmured, his voice low and tinged with curiosity.
The notion lingered for a moment before he shook his head, dismissing it almost immediately. Planes devoid of spiritual Qi were barren by definition, incapable of developing the self-awareness required for a will. The ripple of joy he had sensed earlier was likely nothing more than a coincidence—perhaps the subconscious resonance of the thousand new soul cultivators influencing a spiritually starved world.
Still, the thought nagged at the edges of his mind like a stubborn itch. A world with a conscious will would be unprecedented, a phenomenon so rare that it bordered on the impossible. Such things belonged to ancient myths, not to a world like Earth.
He exhaled sharply through his nose, rising from the chair with a decisive motion. His robes fell in crisp folds around him as he paced the room, his steps measured and deliberate.
"A world without Qi cannot think," he muttered to himself, his voice firm. "I'm chasing shadows."
With that, he turned his attention back to the documents on his desk, focusing on the thousand soul cultivators whose rare talents had become the center of global intrigue. Though his curiosity about the ripple lingered, he knew better than to pursue phantom ideas when more pressing matters demanded his attention.
Back in the clearing, Liang Chen opened his eyes, the brilliance of his soul cultivation fading to the background. The spiritual vein pulsed faintly beside him, its energy stable but still too weak to sustain significant growth.
He exhaled slowly, his mind clearing as he assessed his progress. The soul-cultivation technique was far from his primary path, but its value in sharpening his senses and fortifying his spirit was undeniable. On a barren Earth, every advantage mattered.
Yue Ling sat quietly at his side, her golden eyes observing him with an uncanny awareness. She tilted her head slightly, her ears twitching as though sensing something imperceptible. Liang Chen smiled faintly, reaching out to scratch behind her ears.
"You'll understand one day," he said softly.
The clearing fell silent once more, the faint hum of the spiritual vein the only sound in the still night. Beyond its fragile glow, five plants had begun to sprout across the world, their emergence unnoticed by all but the plane itself.
These plants, products of the vein's influence, carried the faintest traces of spiritual Qi. Though they could not generate energy themselves, their mere existence hinted at Earth's slow transformation. Hidden in remote and forgotten places, they awaited discovery—a subtle sign of what was to come.
Liang Chen remained unaware of these changes, his focus locked on the path ahead. The soul-cultivation technique would strengthen him for now, but it was the spiritual vein that held the true key to Earth's rebirth. And as he sat in quiet contemplation, the world continued to shift in ways even he could not yet predict.