The encounter with Xun'er left Xiao Zhoutian with a restlessness he couldn't quite name. He spent the rest of the afternoon not in idle contemplation, but practicing a basic boxing technique at the cliff's edge, each movement sharp with a frustration he directed inward. Four-star Dou Shi? The thought now tasted like ash. In the grand narrative he knew, that was nothing. A slightly stronger ant in an upcoming world of behemoths.
As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a servant found him and relayed a summons: his father, Xiao Zhan, wished to see him in the study.
Xiao Zhoutian wiped the sweat from his brow, his black training clothes damp. A meeting with the patriarch was never casual. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and made his way down the mountain and through the familiar courtyards of the Xiao family compound.
The study was a place of quiet authority. Shelves lined with scrolls and simple ledgers framed a large desk of polished dark wood. Xiao Zhan stood before a window, his broad back to the door. He turned as Xiao Zhoutian entered, his face, usually marked by the stern concerns of leading a family in a precarious city, softened slightly at the sight of his eldest son.
"Zhoutian. You've been training hard," Xiao Zhan remarked, his eyes missing little. He gestured to a chair. "Sit."
"Father," Xiao Zhoutian greeted respectfully, taking a seat. "You sent for me?"
"I did." Xiao Zhan settled behind his desk, steepling his fingers. "The annual clan test is in three months. You will be fifteen by then, crossing into the adult assessment bracket. The expectations will be higher."
Xiao Zhoutian nodded. He knew this. The test was a pivotal moment for every young clansman, determining the allocation of resources and cultivation guidance for the following year.
"Your progress has been… steady," Xiao Zhan continued, choosing his words carefully. A flicker of something—worry, perhaps—passed through his eyes. "Four-star Dou Shi is a respectable achievement for your age. But Zhoutian, respectability is not excellence. In Wutan City, it may suffice. But our Xiao family… we have seen brighter days. The future requires pillars, not merely stable stones."
The words were a gentle pressure, but they landed on Xiao Zhoutian like weights. Steady. Respectable. Euphemisms for 'not special.' For 'not like your brother was.' He knew his father loved him, but the shadow of Xiao Yan's former genius, and now his perplexing decline, hung over every conversation about cultivation.
"I understand, Father," Xiao Zhoutian said, his voice even. "I will intensify my efforts."
Xiao Zhan studied him for a long moment. "It is not just about effort. There is a… spark. A moment of comprehension that separates the good from the great. I have seen it in you at times, a depth in your eyes that your peers lack. Yet it does not fully translate to your Dou Qi." He sighed, a sound of paternal fatigue. "The path of cultivation is long and winding. Do not lose heart. Continue diligently. The family will support you."
The conversation continued for a few more minutes, touching on family affairs and minor duties, but the core message had been delivered: You must improve.
Leaving the study, the words echoed in Xiao Zhoutian's mind, mingling with his earlier frustrations. Dou Zhi Qi 5. That was his true level. In his distraction, he had even misremembered his own stage earlier. He was a five-star Dou Zhi Qi, not a Dou Shi at all! The gulf between the last stage of Dou Zhi Qi and the Dou Shi level was a chasm he hadn't yet crossed. The realization was a cold slap. How could he have been so complacent? Playing it safe was one thing, but stagnating was another.
He returned to his modest room, the moonlight now the only illumination. The quiet arrogance of a transmigrator, the vague plans involving Xun'er or relying on Xiao Yan—it all seemed ludicrously fragile in the face of his actual, mediocre strength. He sat cross-legged on his bed, determined to run his Dou Qi through its cycles, to claw at least one thread of energy closer to a breakthrough.
He closed his eyes, sinking his consciousness inward, guiding the warm, stream-like flow of his Dou Qi through the established pathways. Cycle after cycle, it grew, but so slowly, so incrementally it was almost imperceptible. Despair began to creep in, cold and insidious.
Is this really my limit? he thought, a spike of genuine fear piercing him. To be an extra in this story, to live and die without a ripple?
Then, the pain came.
It was not a physical pain, but a spiritual rupture, deep within the core of his consciousness—his Sea of Consciousness. It was as if a silent, inward scream had torn through the fabric of his mind. He gasped, his body rigid on the bed, his Dou Qi circulation scattering into chaos.
In the profound darkness behind his eyelids, a light appeared.
At the very center of his tumultuous Sea of Consciousness, a point of violet brilliance erupted. It was small, no larger than a grain of rice, but its light was intense and profound, pushing back the psychic pain and confusion. As he focused on it, trembling with the aftershock, the light began to grow, not in size, but in clarity.
It resolved into the form of a pearl.
A perfect, lustrous pearl the color of amethyst and twilight. It hovered in the center of his spiritual self, rotating slowly, emanating waves of ancient, serene, and incredibly dense energy. It felt foreign, yet intimately tied to him, as if it had been waiting in the depths of his soul, buried under layers of time and forgotten memory, only to be unlocked by his moment of desperate realization and focused will.
Tentatively, with a thought as light as a breath, Xiao Zhoutian reached toward it with his mind.
The moment his consciousness touched the violet pearl, a flood of information, not in words but in pure understanding, flowed into him.
It was a legacy. A seed. A Void Pearl.
Its purpose was shrouded in mystery, but its first function was clear: it could refine. It could purify. It could take the chaotic energies of the world, the impure Dou Qi he painstakingly gathered, even the latent power hidden within materials… and compress it. Essence it. Turn common energy into something rarer, denser, more potent.
A path, stark and revolutionary, unfolded in his mind. With this, his cultivation speed would not just improve; it could skyrocket. The quality of his Dou Qi could surpass anyone at his level. The resources he could access—even low-grade spirit herbs or beast cores—could be transformed into treasures in his hands.
But with the understanding came a warning, a faint impression imprinted on the pearl itself: This power was for creation and elevation, but it came from a lineage of solitude. Its development was symbiotic with the user's own strength and comprehension. To rely on it without personal growth was to stunt its potential and his own. And it was his alone. Its presence was to remain a secret deeper than soul.
The pain had completely subsided, replaced by a thrilling, terrifying awe. The purple pearl continued its slow, silent rotation, a tiny violet sun in the night sky of his consciousness.
Xiao Zhoutian opened his eyes in the dim moonlight of his room. His body was still, but his heart pounded a fierce rhythm against his ribs.
His golden finger had finally arrived.