⚡ The Last Disciple of Lightning Peak
Darkness wrapped around Aarush like a cocoon. The pain of the root-fusion had vanished—but so had all light, all sound, all ground. His senses floated in endless void.
Then, something changed.
A vision bloomed before him—vast, ancient, broken.
He stood in the sky above a battlefield of another age. Colossal swords pierced the earth. Castles floated midair, crumbling into clouds. Shadows of cultivators clashed with dragons under golden suns. Every movement shook mountains.
> "What… is this?" he whispered.
A husky, weightless voice answered from behind.
> "You see only dust now. But once, this land burned brighter than suns."
He turned. A towering figure stood wrapped in fire and fog. Its face hidden. Its aura impossible to comprehend.
> "Who are you?"
> "No one. And everyone. I am what remains of what was lost."
> "Is this… the past?"
> "A memory… of a world stronger than yours. In the ancient age, cultivators were not only stronger—they were truer. Same realms. Same titles. But they lived by law of spirit, not shortcuts."
> "Then why… why are we weaker now?"
> "Because time bleeds truth. What you now call 'cultivation' has become culture. What was once pressure has become comfort. Even the spiritual roots of your era… are pale imitations."
He listened, eyes wide as ancient skies rumbled in silence.
> "In the age before yours, there were five true roots — forged through celestial law and honed by the soul of heaven itself. Fireroot, Stormroot, Verdantroot, Soulroot… and the one never named."
He hesitated.
> "What was the last one?"
> "The Invisible Root. Found in one among millions. A flame that feeds on rejection, and rises when the world believes it dead. It cannot be seen. Cannot be measured. It does not emerge in comfort. Only under pressure… under death… will it awaken. Most who bear it die thinking they are rootless."
His breath caught.
> "And I… I awakened it?"
The figure didn't answer directly. Its flame rippled like falling stars.
> "After one hundred thousand years… someone did it again."
The world began to blur.
> "You… were chosen. Or maybe… you chose yourself. When the time comes, you'll understand. Until then… burn bright."
---
With a gasp, Aarush jolted awake.
He lay on soft grass. Sweat clung to his brow. But something inside had changed—no pain, no emptiness.
Just fire.
Not like a flame seen in the world—but something ancient, curling upward from the base of his soul like smoke from buried embers.
A soft voice called, gentle and calm.
> "Aarush…?"
He turned his head.
She was kneeling beside him, eyes focused, concern quietly resting in her expression. A hand reached to his forehead.
> "You're awake."
> "I… had a dream. Or maybe… it wasn't a dream."
She studied him.
> "Your qi flow… something has changed. It's faint, but your meridians are no longer empty."
He sat up slowly, still trembling.
> "I felt it. Something old. Something beyond… this world."
> "Then the herb worked. But not just that. You've touched something few ever will."
He stared at his hands.
His fingers trembled—not from fear, but from something rising beneath his skin. A flickering warmth—like a sun waking from sleep.
> "So this… is the beginning."
And for once, it no longer felt like the world had turned its back on him.
A quiet smile.
> "Yes. From here… your true cultivation begins."