After a full night of contemplating the contents of Roots of the Soul, Li Yuan once again sat cross-legged in his dormitory room. The morning air brushed softly against his skin, and his breath flowed gently—like a fine thread connecting him to the universe.
Silence.
Within that silence, he tried once more—
Not a technique, not a form.
But simply: to feel.
And in that moment... he felt it again.
Something that had once been faint now emerged more clearly.
A sensation he once knew while watching water flow through the village of Ziran—
The moment he asked himself,
"Why is water so strong… despite appearing weak?"
It wasn't just a question.
It was the beginning of understanding.
And that understanding now shaped something—a realm within himself.
This realm wasn't vast, but it was deep.
Not bright, but not dark either.
Like an empty space that wasn't truly empty.
Within it, a small ripple stirred… like the surface of a lake—still, yet alive.
The air inside felt silent, yet as if it could hear every whisper of the soul.
This realm was no dream.
No imagination.
It was him.
Li Yuan realized—this was the initial form of an inner realm, a mental and spiritual space born not from power, but from true comprehension.
At the bottom of the lake, he saw a faint light.
It was the understanding of water—one he had reached long ago.
But it wasn't physical water.
It was the meaning of water.
Water that is soft, yet drills through stone.
Water that yields, yet shapes the world.
"If I continue to understand… will each of my insights give shape to another part of this realm?"
Li Yuan slowly opened his eyes.
His face remained calm, but something inside him had shifted.
"The outer world can crumble," he murmured,
"but the inner world… is something even death cannot touch."