The sea had gone still. In that stillness, Polyfalls heard only the whisper of the abyss echoing in his mind — "Child, your trial ends for now, but the true path has just begun."
The enormous Demon Whale loomed above him, its single golden eye glowing like a sun buried beneath ten thousand fathoms.
> "From this day forth," the whale's voice trembled the waters, "I am bound to your soul as your spiritual beast guide. When you falter, I will roar. When you bleed, I will swallow your pain. Walk forward, child. The world awaits its reckoning."
A deep hum resonated as Polyfalls raised his trembling hand. The whale's spectral fin pressed gently against his palm, forming a glowing sigil — crimson, shaped like a spiral of waves devouring the moon.
The mark burned. Yet within that pain, Polyfalls felt an unshakable connection — the pulse of the deep sea in his own veins.
And then, silence. The ocean vanished. He woke upon the beach, drenched and pale, his heart pounding like a distant war drum.
---
The Missing Son
Three days had passed since his disappearance. Within the Yen Family Manor, worry had turned to panic.
The courtyard lamps burned through the nights, and his mother's eyes were hollow from sleepless crying.
When word spread that a boy matching Polyfalls' description was seen walking back from the cliffs, one of the servants sprinted to the manor, shouting until his voice broke.
The Yen parents ran. His mother first — her robe barely tied, hair disheveled, heart thundering faster than her steps.
"Polyfalls!" she cried, and her voice cracked like glass.
He stood there in the dusk light — soaked, thinner, but alive. His little brother and sister clung to their mother's robe, staring with round eyes. His father's usual stern face broke into tears he had hidden for years.
They all rushed to him. His mother hugged him so tightly that he felt her heartbeat against his own chest. For a moment, he forgot about the demon, the whale, the darkness. There was only warmth — unfamiliar, trembling warmth.
So this is family…? he thought silently. Even with my fifth-grade root, they still worry for me…
For the first time since his awakening, the emptiness in his chest softened.
At dinner, his mother kept glancing at him, afraid he would disappear again. She held his hand as he ate — her thumb brushing over his knuckles as though memorizing them.
When he was done, she smiled gently and said,
> "Son, rest well tonight. Tomorrow you'll go to the academy. Perhaps the heavens will bless you anew."
He hesitated. "Mother… with my roots being so poor, would it not be better if I—"
She stopped him with a finger on his lips.
> "My child, the heavens test the patient. Not all talent is shown in light. Some must be forged in shadow. I believe in you."
Polyfalls lowered his head. The warmth of her belief pierced him deeper than any blade.
The Cultivation Night
That night, the moon was like a silver wound in the dark sky.
Polyfalls sat cross-legged, focusing his breath. He could still feel the Demon Whale's essence sleeping within him — vast, ancient, waiting.
Qi began to stir. Slowly, painfully, like cold water trickling through old pipes. His fifth-grade root groaned under the pressure, but something within it had changed — threads of demonic essence woven into his meridians, subtle and dangerous.
For the first time, he felt the flow. From the initial stage to the middle stage of Qi condensation — one small step, yet monumental for someone once thought talentless.
But as he reached the edge of enlightenment, exhaustion crashed over him. His head fell forward, consciousness fading.
He slumped to the ground, the faint echo of the whale's voice whispering:
> "Rest, child of blood and shadow. Even the stars take eons to burn."
Azure Mist Ceremony
When dawn came, the city below the mountains of Dao Sect shone with banners of azure silk. Mist curled around the stone stairways, giving the air a dreamlike quality.
Today marked the Azure Mist Academy's Awakening Ceremony — where every young cultivator of the outer branches would gather to pledge themselves anew.
Polyfalls arrived in the robe his mother had stitched herself — plain but neat. Many looked at him with pity or contempt; after all, his "fifth-grade root" was known throughout the sect.
Around him, proud heirs of the sect's elders stood boasting. Their spirit roots gleamed bright during testing — second-grade, third-grade, even one rare first-grade prodigy, Yen Rui, the arrogant grandson of Elder Tao.
> "Polyfalls? You actually came?" Yen Rui smirked. "I thought your root would have rotted by now. Don't worry, even among trash, you can sweep floors."
Polyfalls didn't reply. His eyes were calm — too calm. Beneath that stillness, something inhuman slumbered.
When the drums sounded, all chatter ceased. From the highest pavilion, the sect leader descended — his robe long and pale blue, his eyes deep as ancient wells.
Dao Xuanzhen, the master of Azure Mist Academy, stood before them.
> "Children of the Dao," he spoke, voice resonating like a mountain wind. "The path of cultivation is one of endless struggle. It is not the heavens that test you, but the world itself. To be weak is to be prey.
The so-called righteous sects will speak of virtue — but remember this: virtue does not save you when their blades find your throat. Strength alone commands truth."
His words sank deep into Polyfalls' heart.
A faint smile touched the boy's lips — cold, knowing, almost cruel. Strength alone commands truth…
When the ceremony ended, Polyfalls stood alone under a willow tree. The world was quiet again. The mist drifted around him like veils of fate.
He whispered a poem to the night, soft and low — words that felt older than his body, older than his soul:
> "The wind forgets the name of those it once kissed.
The moon mourns not the fallen beneath its light.
The river carries blood and blossoms alike.
Let me be the silence between each breath—
For when I rise, even the heavens will kneel."
Somewhere deep inside his soul, the Demon Whale stirred — its deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.
"Beautiful, child. The abyss listens."