With the city rebuilt and its heart beating stronger than ever, I, Ye Caiqian, found myself drawn away from public life—not into isolation, but into the depths of inquiry. The aftermath of our victory had left behind mysteries even more tantalizing than triumph itself. My mother's awakening of the Life element was only the beginning. Across the City of Beginning, I witnessed miracles sprouting like spring shoots after rain.
Patients who should have been crippled for life walked again, their bodies knit by a gentle green light. Elderly men whose spirits had faded found themselves strong, their eyes brightening with a vitality that belonged to youth. New healers, many of them women who had never thought to cultivate before, began to display the faint green glow of Life element, though none as powerfully as my mother.
And it wasn't just Life. Rumors swirled in the Academy's halls—of a boy whose shadow moved on its own, of a girl whose wounds closed with a touch of golden light, of a scholar who vanished from one side of the library only to appear instantly on the other. New elements, long thought the stuff of legend or fairy tale, were appearing: Darkness. Light. Space.
I could not ignore these signs. Humanity was changing, and it was up to me to guide the change, to understand and document every miracle.
Each day, I welcomed those with new elemental awakenings into my study at the Academy of Beginning. There, beneath the warm sunlight that filtered through the rebuilt dome, I listened to their stories and conducted gentle experiments.
Ye Qiumei—my mother and the city's chief healer—became my partner in this research. Together, we observed how her spirit energy responded to the wounded, how the Life element mended not only flesh but spirit. I kept careful notes on the flow of her power, the subtle pulse that seemed to seek out brokenness and fill it with renewal.
With every new case, I drew diagrams—meridians mapped, spirit energy flows tracked, element resonance tested. The Life element, I found, was less like fire or water and more like a gentle web, connecting every living thing, weaving healing from the root up.
Chang Wei, age 22: Suffered a shattered leg in the beast attack. After three sessions with Life element healers, he not only walked but danced—his bones stronger than before, scars fading to memory.
Lin Ru, age 14: Her wounds closed by a healer's touch, but also found herself awakening a faint glow of her own—soon able to close cuts on others, however small.
Yun Lao, age 30: Claimed his body was "lighter than air." With meditation, he was able to disappear from one place and reappear elsewhere within the city—Space element, confirmed.
Each case was a revelation. But with every new discovery, more questions appeared.
As weeks passed, I assembled dozens of evolvers with new elements for a symposium—a grand gathering beneath the Dragon Skull Monument, attended by healers, scholars, and the merely curious.
I invited those with Life, Light, Darkness, and Space elements to demonstrate their powers. The crowd was spellbound:
Life healers mended wounds, made wilted plants blossom, even soothed the rage of an injured beast.
Light evolvers shone like miniature suns, their power burning away infection and shadow.
Darkness evolvers conjured shadowy arms, moved unseen through a crowd, or cloaked an area in perfect night.
Space evolvers showed feats of instant movement, object retrieval from afar, and, in one breathtaking moment, caused a falling boulder to vanish before it could crush a house.
After each display, I interviewed the evolvers about their cultivation experiences. The results were as varied as the elements themselves. Some found their element easy to sense and draw in. Others struggled, describing their power as "distant" or "stubborn." Some grew quickly, others slowly.
Why such differences?
The answer, I realized, lay in the body itself. With my transcendent comprehension, I mapped the meridian systems of dozens of evolvers, compared energy flows, and tested absorption rates for each element. My conclusion was both elegant and world-changing:
Every person possesses an innate "Elemental Affinity Physique"—a bodily constitution that determines how well they attract, absorb, and channel a particular element.
Some were born with Fire Affinity Physique, drawing in flame with ease. Others had Water, Earth, or Wind affinity. Rarer still were those with Light, Darkness, Space, or Life affinity—each with its own subtle markers.
With careful observation, I catalogued the traits:
Fire Affinity: Warm skin, high energy, quick tempers, easy to anger or inspire.
Water Affinity: Calm, adaptable, natural healers, clear voices, flexible bodies.
Earth Affinity: Strong builds, patient, resilient to injury and fatigue.
Wind Affinity: Lean, fast, restless, sharp senses, often good singers or runners.
Life Affinity: Empathetic, gentle, quick to notice suffering, often skilled at gardening or animal care.
Light Affinity: Optimistic, radiant smiles, can endure pain or hardship longer than others.
Darkness Affinity: Quiet, observant, blend easily into crowds, sensitive to moods and secrets.
Space Affinity: Curious, unpredictable, quick-witted, sometimes absent-minded or aloof.
But what of those who lacked strong affinity? Or who wished to change their fate?
Drawing on my understanding of both webnovel's spirit energy cultivation and the scientific knowledge of my past life, I devised a revolutionary idea: Physique Cultivation.
With targeted exercises, meditation techniques, diet, and environmental exposure, it was possible to strengthen one's affinity over time—even to develop new affinities through determined practice.
I wrote detailed guides for each element:
Fire users should meditate near sources of heat, eat spicy foods, and perform breathing exercises under the sun.
Water users benefited from swimming, cool baths, and gentle, flowing movement—tai chi and aquatic forms.
Earth users should work with clay and stone, cultivate gardens, and practice stances that rooted their bodies deeply.
Life affinity required time among living things, acts of compassion, and focused healing meditation.
Space affinity could be honed by "spatial puzzles"—arranging objects, meditating at the city's highest points, and focusing on movement and perception.
I called this the Elemental Affinity Physique Cultivation Method and shared it with the Academy, healers, and martial associations. Within months, young evolvers who had struggled to advance found themselves improving, their spirit energy flowing more easily, breakthroughs coming sooner.
As for myself, I discovered something rare: I could sense and absorb all known elements. My past life's memories and transcendent comprehension had granted me what I would come to call the Universal Affinity Physique.
Developing a unique cultivation method, I began daily cycles, drawing on fire at dawn, meditating in the river for water, tending gardens for earth, running with the wind in the evening, helping at the infirmary for Life, stargazing to connect with Space, lighting lanterns for Light, and walking moonlit alleys to understand Darkness.
With each practice, I gained deeper insight—not just into my own power, but into how every affinity could grow, adapt, and serve humanity.
As news spread, the City of Beginning became a destination for all seeking to awaken their latent gifts. The Academy expanded its curriculum, teaching not just basic cultivation but specialized techniques for each affinity.
I oversaw the writing of new manuals:
"The Path of Life: Healing the Body and Soul"
"Space Unveiled: The Way of Instant Movement"
"Walking in Light and Shadow: Cultivating Hope and Depth"
Soon, students from across the continent would come, seeking their destiny—and finding it in the knowledge we built together.
At night, I sat beneath the Dragon Skull Monument, reflecting on the rapid evolution of our world. Once, humanity cowered before the unknown. Now, we shaped it, grew with it, learned from it.
Was there danger in such progress? Of course. But I believed in the city, in my people, in the promise of knowledge. If we moved forward together, with caution and compassion, the dawn would always bring hope.