"What is this book?" thought Li Yuan as he traced the early pages, written in ancient calligraphy.
Its title: "Roots of the Soul: On Breath and the Silence That Shapes the World."
The language was archaic, yet carried a profound clarity. It wasn't about ordinary cultivation techniques, but about understanding the soul through emptiness—about stillness that gives birth to movement, and breath not merely as air filling lungs, but as a thread connecting oneself to the heavens and the earth.
As he leaned closer, his eyes landed on a passage:
"Before the Dao, there was emptiness.
The first breath of the world was not sound, but understanding."
…Footsteps echoed softly in the quiet hall—steady, confident.
A young man approached, dressed in deep blue robes adorned with golden cloud patterns, a mark of high status. His gaze was sharp yet composed. He looked at Li Yuan with a spark of interest.
"Few ever touch that book," he said, eyeing the cover in Li Yuan's hands.
"Most are too busy chasing power. You… are different."
Li Yuan slowly closed the book and looked up, meeting the young man's eyes.
"Who are you?"
The young man gave a faint smile.
"My name is Wen Zhi, of the Wen family—the ones who oversee this academy."
He clasped his hands behind his back, then added,
"I'm simply curious—what is it you're hoping to find in those old books?"
Li Yuan replied in a calm tone:
"I'm not searching for power… I'm searching for understanding.
Because to me, power without understanding is just a burden."
Wen Zhi paused for a moment, as if weighing those words. Then he spoke, his voice lower, more thoughtful:
"An unusual answer. You know, most of us were taught that understanding comes after power. But perhaps... you're reversing that order."
Li Yuan closed the book and rose to his feet.
"To me, understanding is the foundation.
If you stand upon power without understanding, then you're standing on fragile emptiness."
Wen Zhi smiled again—this time, more genuinely.
"You're intriguing. We'll meet again, Li Yuan."
Li Yuan gave a small nod, his gray eyes returning to the book in his hands.
Wen Zhi turned and walked away, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.
He now knew—this boy from a distant village was no ordinary student.