The silence after the old man's words felt heavier than stone.
"Touch the orb, child. But remember — once begun, there is no turning back."
The words lingered in the air like sacred law. Ishan hesitated only for a heartbeat. Then he stepped forward.
Before him floated the glowing sphere — translucent, pulsing softly, as though it were alive. Within its crystalline depths, faint streaks of light moved like veins of fire, each carrying the fragments of another boy's soul — the boy whose name he now bore: Ishan Singhania.
Ishan reached out.
The moment his fingertips brushed its surface, the world shattered.
A thunderous vibration tore through his mind. Light exploded across his vision, consuming everything — the chamber, the old man, even the sense of time itself. The orb dissolved into pure radiance, flooding into his veins, his flesh, his bones.
And then came the pain.
It wasn't a pain of the body — it was deeper, primal, the kind that broke the spirit before it broke the skin. Countless memories, emotions, and sensations began forcing their way into him. He saw faces he didn't know, felt bonds he'd never made, and grieved for losses that weren't his.Every heartbeat echoed with two lives colliding — two identities wrestling for dominion over one fragile vessel.
He screamed. The air vibrated with it.
Images flashed faster than he could comprehend — a golden palace under a crimson sun, a young warrior mastering sword forms on a cliff edge, the bitter taste of betrayal as poison crept through trusted veins. He saw the moment Singhania fell — the disbelief, the heartbreak, the darkness swallowing his last breath.
Ishan clenched his fists, trying to contain the storm of memories that tore through his heart and mind. The pain was unbearable—something beyond the realm of human endurance. This wasn't a wound of the flesh, but of the soul. He was fusing two spirits—his and another's—into one.Something nature itself resisted.
If he had forced this fusion without the will of the body's original owner, his soul would have been shredded into nothingness. Yet at this moment, it was that very will—the dying wish of the body's true owner—that was lending him the strength to survive.
He endured the agony for what felt like eternity.When two souls merge, the vessel must be empty. A spirit imprinted with its owner's will is dangerous—volatile. It rejects intrusion.But this case was different. The soul he was merging with wanted him to. It had chosen him.
Through that choice, Ishan found the will to withstand pain equal to a thousand deaths.
He had felt pain before—on countless adventures, in countless battles. But this… this was pain on a divine scale.Still, he refused to surrender.He remembered the old man's words echoing in his head:
"If you lose to this pain, boy… you will die."
So he gritted his teeth and held on.
Three hours passed. Sweat drenched his entire back; blood mingled with sweat on his forehead. The old man wiped those crimson drops away—Not with his hands. His body was already gone.It was his spiritual energy doing it.
Had Ishan witnessed this a day ago, he would've been awestruck. Now, half-dead from the ritual, he could only tremble in silence.
When the fusion finally ended, Ishan's strength gave out. His body collapsed, his consciousness faded, and darkness swallowed him whole.
The old man—his spectral guide—lifted Ishan's limp body and laid him upon a bed. Then, before the boy could awaken, he vanished into the depths of the chamber to prepare something unseen.
Hours later, the old man returned, this time accompanied by a floating emerald light—soft, pulsating, alive.
He looked toward it and said quietly, "Do you think I chose the right one?"
A melodious voice, feminine and serene, flowed from the light.
"Time will tell… but congratulations, Abhay. You've finally found your successor."
The voice was ethereal, soothing—like moonlight given sound.
A faint smile curved Abhay's spectral face.
"I saw myself in him—just younger, more reckless. Everything I once was. So I made him my disciple. After all, what I'm about to give him… is everything I ever learned."
The light giggled softly, its laughter carrying the warmth of dawn.
"You've always been far-sighted, Abhay. If he truly becomes what we couldn't… you'll have every right to be proud."
Abhay didn't answer. He simply looked toward the unconscious Ishan and smiled.
Moments later, Ishan stirred. The light vanished instantly, leaving behind silence and the faint scent of incense. When his eyes opened, he saw Abhay standing before him—a transparent form, glowing faintly, a fragment of the old man's soul.
Abhay spoke gently:
"You've met my expectations, Ishan. But remember—along with this body, you inherit its owner's burdens."
Ishan could only nod. Words failed him.Through the flood of memories he had absorbed, he had glimpsed another life's suffering—pains far greater than his own. He had seen betrayal, loss, the cruel politics of a world ruled by power.
He also saw wonders—impossible landscapes, cities of light, and martial sects channeling forces that defied reason.Now he understood this world as deeply as its former inhabitant had. Its relationships, its energy systems, its very heartbeat felt his own.
He was no longer merely Ishan. He was both.Two souls, one destiny.
But he had not forgotten his true home.He vowed to grow strong enough to tear through the very boundaries of the universe and return to his own world someday.
This world, however, was not his Earth. Here, kingdoms still reigned beneath banners of blood and might. Here, energy—vitality—flowed through the air like a living ocean. People shaped it, tamed it, and wielded it through their martial arts.
It was not "magic," but something older, deeper—the Law of Nature itself.
The strong ruled; the weak obeyed. That was the way of this world.Ishan learned of it through the memories of his new body—through the pain of its previous master, betrayed by his own uncle who had stolen his strength, his lineage, and even his parents' legacy.
He discovered that this realm had its own hierarchy of cultivation—levels defined by mastery over energy.
The Path of Power
Physical Level – The foundation.The warrior absorbs Vitality Energy from the environment to temper the body, surpassing mortal limits. There are nine stages, each refining the body further.
Vital Core Level – Nine stages again.With each breakthrough, three new meridians awaken, forming channels to store energy. Twenty-seven meridians in total by the end.
Energy Circulation Level – The warrior connects all twenty-seven meridians, creating an inner network to channel energy seamlessly.
Energy Point Level – Nine condensed nodes form near the navel—each a miniature sun of vitality.
Energy Circle Level – A revolving energy ring takes shape at the navel. With every trio of stages, its size and density evolve—expanding, then contracting as energy condenses toward perfection.
Energy Sea Level – The circle becomes a storm, condensing ambient vitality into liquid form—a boundless ocean within. Each stage deepens the sea's vastness.
Beyond this, the memories held only fragments—higher realms of power lost to history.
Through those memories, Ishan also learned of deeper concepts: Spirit Bones, Bloodlines, and Energy Foundations—rare gifts that shaped one's destiny.
He glanced at his new body and realized—it was lighter, faster, more responsive than his former one. The boy whose life he now carried had been young, but gifted. The reflexes alone were proof.
As he flexed his fingers, thoughts swirled within him—plans, possibilities, promises.And then, the old man's voice cut through.
"Ishan, you are now ready. But your spirit base is damaged by poison, and your bloodline remains dormant. These are things you must fix yourself. Yet, as your teacher, I can help strengthen you—and show you the path to cure the poison."
Ishan frowned. "But Master, if the poison blocks my cultivation, how can I grow stronger before I'm cured?"
Abhay's translucent form shimmered faintly with laughter.
"This world, boy, is far vaster than yours. Here, anything is possible. The cultivation you've seen in these memories is called Energy Gathering Cultivation. But there are two other paths—Soul Cultivation and Body Cultivation."
He paused, his voice echoing like a temple bell.
"Though Energy Cultivation begins with the body, it soon abandons it. Body Cultivation never does. And Soul Cultivation… it begins where Energy Cultivation ends. Each path is equal in its own right. I want you to walk all three."
Ishan opened his mouth. "But, Master—"
Before he could finish, Abhay raised a hand.
"I know your question. The key to all three paths, and to your future… lies within this."
He waved his hand, and a sphere of pure white light materialized in his palm—glowing softly, humming with the same resonance as the soul-orb that had once carried Ishan Singhaniya's memories.
The chamber trembled faintly under its radiance.
The next step of his destiny had just begun.