The wind whispered his name.
A name he hadn't yet chosen.
Because in a world unbound, where the Dao was no longer a road but an infinite canvas, even a name was a choice—a declaration of identity, of existence.
---
🌌 A Sky That Refuses to Answer
The child looked up.
Where once stars danced in patterns dictated by divine hands, now only endless darkness stretched overhead, peppered with newborn stars—stars born from mortal will, from beasts' dreams, from choices made yesterday and forgotten tomorrow.
> "There is no destiny for me," he muttered.
"Good."
---
🌀 First Obstacle: The Mountain of Names
Before him stood a massive, towering mountain.
But this was no ordinary mountain.
It was made of… names. Countless glowing glyphs floated in stone—names of ancestors, sects, divine laws, and the fallen Pillars.
A barrier.
A wall of history.
A quiet voice echoed from the mountain's base:
> "To pass, you must choose—inherit, defy, or erase."
---
The child stood silent.
Other cultivators might have tried to climb it—following the legacies of those before.
Others might have shattered a few stones—rejecting certain Daos while clinging to others.
But this boy… smiled.
> "No."
"I'll do neither."
He walked around it.
Not through. Not over. Not by force.
> "If the mountain's purpose is to define the path… I simply choose no path."
The glyphs flickered.
The mountain trembled—then crumbled into dust.
A ripple spread across the mortal plane.
> "A cultivator… who refuses even the concept of a path…"
---
⚡ The First Confrontation
From the shadow of the crumbled mountain, a figure formed.
A shade of the old world. A fragment of the Tribunal's will—something left behind even after the heavens fell.
> "Mortal," it hissed. "Without order, there is ruin. Chaos breeds only suffering. Submit. Take a name. Accept a role. Restore what was broken."
The boy tilted his head.
> "No."
> "Then perish."
The shade lunged—a spear of Law condensed in its hand, shaped by remnants of Fate, Karma, and Judgment.
But the boy simply raised a hand.
There was no technique.
No formation.
No seal.
Only a single thought:
> "I refuse."
The spear disintegrated mid-flight.
The shade convulsed—its form distorted by the absence of compliance.
> "Impossible…!" it screamed. "There must be… rules…"
> "Not anymore."
With a final step forward, the boy's presence—small, human, fragile—unmade the shade entirely.
Not by overpowering it.
But by simply existing outside its reality.
---
🌱 A Seed Grows
As the dust settled, something grew where the shade had fallen.
A small, silver seed.
The boy knelt, touched it.
A whisper entered his mind:
> "This is the Seed of Becoming."
"It will become anything you dare to imagine… or nothing, if you fear."
He smiled.
> "Then let's see."
---
🌌 Far Beyond, an Old Echo Watches
In the vast emptiness between realms, Lin Xuan's presence stirred.
He laughed—not the laugh of a proud master, nor a scheming god—but the laugh of a man watching someone solve a puzzle without knowing there was ever supposed to be one.
> "Yes… this is exactly right."
> "The sky isn't broken. It's unfinished."
---
🔮 A New Sky Writes Itself
Above the boy, a single star ignited.
Not a star born from heaven.
A star that formed because someone dared to exist without permission.