The world was vast.
Cai Feiyin knew this now.
He had seen it in the maps, in the books his mother read to him, in the tales of great cultivators who defied fate itself. He had traced his tiny fingers over inked landscapes of towering mountains, endless oceans, and golden cities that shone like stars beneath the heavens.
Yet, for all its grandeur, the world followed a simple truth, the strong ruled, and the weak followed.
It was a fact woven into history, into the very culture of Terra. Strength was not just admired, it was the foundation upon which the world was built. Cultivators were revered, their levels and potential dictating how they were treated. A person's status, wealth, and even survival often depended on how far they could push beyond their mortal limits.
Feiyin, though still young, absorbed this with an almost frightening clarity.
His mother, Mei Liao, saw it too. She had once been part of a noble clan, a world where power and manipulation went hand in hand. And though a part of her wished to shield Feiyin from the darker aspects of human nature, she knew she could not keep him ignorant forever.
---
It was late morning when the traveling merchant arrived.
Feiyin had been sitting just outside their home, watching the way the leaves fluttered on the branches of an old tree, their movements subtle yet rhythmic, like quiet heartbeats.
Then he heard it, the creak of wooden wheels, the heavy steps of oxen, the bright voice of a man who smiled too much.
The merchant was a broad-shouldered man, his clothes embroidered in colors that were just a little too bright for a man who claimed to have traveled long distances. His thick, graying beard gave him an air of wisdom, but Feiyin knew better than to trust a beard.
"Fine wares! Fine silks! The best spices from the southern ports!"
His voice was warm, friendly, spilling over with words meant to put people at ease. His hands moved with exaggerated flourishes, presenting his goods with practiced ease.
Mei Liao, ever graceful, greeted him with a polite nod, while Cai Feng stood at a distance, arms crossed, gaze unreadable.
Feiyin, however, was not focused on his words, he was focused on the way the air shifted around him.
The merchant's voice was smooth, but the oscillations around him did not match the warmth of his words. They wavered, sharp at the edges, as though carefully maintained, hiding something beneath the surface.
Feiyin frowned, his small fingers curling in the fabric of his sleeve.
The merchant was lying.
He didn't know about what, but it was there, a false note in the melody of his presence.
He tugged on his mother's sleeve. "Mommy."
Mei Liao glanced down, still keeping polite conversation with the merchant. "Hmm?"
Feiyin hesitated. He wanted to say it. To tell her something was wrong.
But then he saw the way she met the merchant's gaze, her expression polite yet unreadable, her presence calm yet unwavering.
She already knew.
Feiyin's small shoulders relaxed slightly. His mother was not fooled.
Instead of speaking, he simply leaned against her leg, a silent confirmation that he was watching too.
She brushed her fingers through his hair, a quiet act of reassurance.
That night, Feiyin sat cross-legged on a thick cushion, watching his mother with bright, attentive eyes. Tonight's lesson was not about maps or history.
Tonight was about people.
"Feiyin," Mei Liao began, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you know why people act differently when they speak to your father?"
Feiyin tilted his head. "Because he's strong?"
She smiled. "That's part of it. But not just strength in body. He carries himself with confidence, and people respect that."
Feiyin thought for a moment. "So… if I want people to treat me well, I just have to look strong?"
Mei Liao's amethyst eyes softened. "It helps," she admitted. "But strength alone is not enough. Do you remember the merchant who visited this morning?"
Feiyin nodded. "He smiled a lot… but I didn't like it."
Her brows lifted slightly. "Why?"
Feiyin frowned, tapping his chin. "His voice and his face… they didn't match."
Mei Liao's lips curled in approval. "Very good." She leaned in slightly. "Some people will act kind, but their kindness is empty. Others will seem harsh, but their words may carry honesty."
She tapped his small chest lightly. "The key is not just listening to what people say, but understanding what they mean."
Feiyin absorbed this, his small fingers curling slightly against his knee. His mind, sharpened through nightly visualization, processed and analyzed information faster than most children his age.
Mei Liao continued, her voice patient and warm. "There will come a time when you will meet people who will try to use you, to manipulate you. I want you to be able to recognize it, shield yourself from it… and if necessary, use it against them."
Feiyin blinked up at her. "Use it… like how?"
A small, knowing smile graced her lips. "Like when you refuse to say 'Dad' just to make your father annoyed."
Feiyin grinned mischievously, his small shoulders shaking in laughter.
Mei Liao laughed with him, ruffling his hair. "That, my love, is the simplest form of control. Knowing how people feel and guiding their emotions without them realizing it."
Feiyin, fascinated, thought about this for a long while.
And then, almost absentmindedly, he murmured, "People's feelings… they move."
Mei Liao's amusement faded, replaced by quiet curiosity. "Move?"
Feiyin nodded, his eyes flickering with deep thought. "It's like… when Daddy swings his sword, the air around it moves. But people do that too… even when they don't move."
Mei Liao's breath hitched slightly.
"Do you mean you can feel their emotions?"
Feiyin hesitated, then slowly nodded. "It's… not like hearing or seeing. But I feel when things change. Like the merchant… his words and his feeling didn't match."
For the first time in a long while, Mei Liao did not know what to say.
Her son was barely past three years old. His mind was sharp, but this… this was something else.
People spent decades training their awareness to sense emotions, yet Feiyin did it naturally, as if it was merely another sense, like touch or taste.
She had expected him to be gifted. She had not expected this.
Taking a slow breath, she smiled, masking her deeper thoughts. "Feiyin, listen to me carefully."
Her son's eyes flicked up to her.
She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her voice soft yet firm. "Feiyin… remember what I told you?"
Feiyin blinked sleepily up at her. He knew what she meant.
"I won't tell anyone else," he murmured.
Mei Liao smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead as she tucked him into his bed. "Good."
Her fingers lingered in his hair for a moment before she rose, leaving him to the embrace of sleep.
Days later, Feiyin stood at the edge of the river, barefoot on the cool, damp soil.
His father had allowed him some time to play before stretching exercises. His mother, seated under a tree with a book in hand, occasionally glanced his way, ensuring he didn't wander too far.
Feiyin loved the river.
Not just because it was cool and refreshing, but because it was alive.
He crouched, placing his small hands on the smooth stones that lined the riverbank. He felt the way the water rushed past, the endless pull and push of the current.
He closed his eyes.
The river was not just moving. It was singing.
A deep, steady hum, layered with countless small ripples of motion. Where the water struck stone, the sound changed, higher in pitch, sharper in its vibrations. When it slowed in small pools, the hum became soft and warm, a lullaby whispered by the earth itself.
Feiyin opened his eyes and dipped his fingers into the water. The ripples changed with his touch, spreading outward, meeting the greater current before fading into it.
He giggled, delighted.
"Feiyin!"
His mother's voice was warm, but firm.
He looked back, seeing her raised brow.
"Not too far."
"I won't," he called back, stepping back just enough to ease her worry.
Then he turned back to the river, listening again.
One day, he thought, I'll understand all of it.
Reading and writing had been difficult at first. The shapes of the characters, the strokes of ink, the meanings behind each one, it had all seemed so slow compared to the way he processed sound, movement, and energy.
But Feiyin was nothing if not persistent.
With each passing day, the letters became clearer, the sentences easier. He sat beside his mother as she wrote out new words, his fingers tracing the strokes before repeating them on his own parchment.
He loved stories most, tales of cultivators who soared across the skies, of heroes who defied fate, of emperors who built golden palaces high above the clouds.
But some stories were not so grand.
"Feiyin," Mei Liao said one evening, her tone softer than usual. "Do you know why people respect cultivators?"
Feiyin blinked up at her. "Because they're strong?"
"Yes," she murmured. "But strength is not just about power. It's about status. The world values those who can surpass others. The strong rise, the weak are left behind."
Feiyin's small hands pressed against his book. "That's… not fair."
"No," she said quietly. "It isn't."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Mei Liao placed a gentle hand over his. "But you will not be weak, my love."
Feiyin met her gaze, small but resolute.
"No," he agreed. "I won't."
Cai Feng was not a man of many words.
His teachings were different from Mei Liao's, straightforward, direct, and practical.
"Stretch," his father instructed, sitting on the grass with his legs extended. "Like this."
Feiyin mirrored him, his small arms reaching toward his feet.
Cai Feng observed him carefully. "Good. Hold it."
His father had explained that he was still too young to begin true cultivation. His body was not yet ready to handle the influx of Essence Qi, but that did not mean he could not prepare.
For now, his days with his father were filled with stretching exercises, body conditioning, and deep massages to strengthen his tendons and muscles, ensuring his body grew with resilience.
"Why do I have to stretch every day?" Feiyin asked one afternoon, rubbing his sore legs.
Cai Feng, sitting beside him, exhaled with a smile. "Because cultivation is not just about gathering power, it's about withstanding it."
Feiyin blinked. "Withstanding it?"
His father nodded. "Think of Essence Qi like a river. If you build a dam too weak, the water will break through and destroy everything."
He placed a firm hand on Feiyin's shoulder. "Your body is the dam. If it's weak, you'll break before you can even take your first step."
Feiyin pursed his lips in thought. He had seen rivers before. He had seen how strong currents smashed through weak barriers.
He understood.
"Okay," he said seriously. "I'll get strong."
Cai Feng's lips twitched slightly, forming a proud smile. "Good."
After their session, Feiyin lay on his stomach while Cai Feng worked his hands over his back, pressing into his muscles with firm, steady pressure. The first time, Feiyin had squeaked in protest, but now, he had grown used to it.
"This will help your body develop properly," his father said, kneading his shoulders. "It'll make sure your bones and muscles set the right way."
Feiyin made a small humming sound, feeling relaxed. "Feels nice."
Cai Feng snorted with a smirk. "Enjoy it while it lasts. When you start actual training, you'll beg me to stop."
Feiyin lifted his head, grinning. "I won't beg!"
His father raised a brow. "Oh?"
"Promise!"
Cai Feng chuckled, shaking his head. "We'll see."
---
And every night, as he drifted into sleep, the Eight formed in his mind.
They were not watching him.
They were simply there, a vast, unfathomable presence, a visualization of something beyond comprehension.
And every night, as he focused on them, as he let his thoughts drift into the emptiness of the Nexus, he felt it, his mind becoming clearer, his thoughts sharper.
Slowly, but surely, he was growing.