“Who the hell are you?” “The Revival Tree God,” the man gave the same gentle answer. Then, as if remembering something, he added, “Let me reintroduce myself. I’m the one who’s been watching you for a long time. The one you’ve been searching for, but could never find. “I’ve been watching because your blood…is the same as mine. But you’ve been walking the wrong cultivation path.” He shook his head, a bit sadly. Then he tapped his staff to the ground. And suddenly, where there had been barren wilderness, there now bloomed a massive, ancient garden, lush, verdant, and terrifyingly alive. Ping’an stood frozen, eyes wide. Because even the grass here radiated power far beyond his own. And there wasn’t just one blade of grass. There were thousands. Millions. A crushing despair settled over him, heavier than anything he’d ever felt. His self-confidence collapsed in an instant, from I just can’t beat my dad and my brother to I really am…nothing. He sank to the ground in defeat. His saber slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a dull clang. He tilted his head back, staring up at the endless green that had swallowed the world. The Revival Tree God walked over and stood beside him. “For those without our bloodline,” he said, “no matter how far they go, they’ll never break past third rank. But you…you’re different.” He offered a hand. “Come, Ping’an. Let me show you what real power looks like. Let me take you to see a different world.” Ping’an rasped, “I don’t trust you.” The Revival Tree God replied, “If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been effortless. I could’ve done it over ten years ago. But I didn’t. I chose to watch from afar. Silently. That alone…should be enough to take your first step toward trusting me.” Ping’an asked, “Then why didn’t you show up earlier? Why now, all of a sudden?” The Revival Tree God replied, “The world is shifting, massively. I couldn’t just stand by and watch someone who shares my bloodline die in vain.” He looked down at the slumped figure of Ping’an and asked gently, “So, what do you say? Will you learn? My lineage walks the Path of the Human Soul. Breaking into fourth rank is easy. But the real divide comes at third rank, that’s where the road splits. And if no one leads you across that fork…you’ll never find the way, no matter how hard you try.” Ping’an looked up in disbelief, staring blankly at the flower-crowned man. “You’re…third rank?” The Revival Tree God smiled. “That’s right.” Ping’an’s eyes darkened slightly with caution, a reaction the Revival Tree God didn’t miss. He continued, “Maybe you—and maybe your family too—have misunderstood me. Maybe you think I’m some sinister figure working from the shadows. But that’s not the truth. All I’ve ever wanted was to do something good for this world. To keep it from slipping into darkness, from becoming a dying sun that never rises again. “And sometimes…to make the world better, to make humanity better, you have to do things that seem wrong. Even cruel. You don’t understand me now, because you haven’t even tried. But once I start teaching you, once you gain real power, you will.” Ping’an narrowed his eyes. “And if I still don’t understand you?” The Revival Tree God answered, calm and unshaken, “That’s fine too. One more strong soul in this world is still a glimmer of hope.” There was something in his smile, steady and kind, that made it hard not to believe him. Ping’an said, “So you’re just going to teach me for free?” The Revival Tree God chuckled. “If that’s how you want to see it, sure.” Ping’an frowned. “My mother told me when I was little, there’s no such thing as a free meal.” The Revival Tree God replied, “That’s what ordinary people believe, because in their eyes, everything has a price.” “And you?” Ping’an asked. “I believe in legacy. In a world that can become peaceful, better,” the Revival Tree God said. “So the moment you begin to grow, you’ve already paid that price.” Ping’an thought it over, turning the words around in his head. He couldn’t spot any obvious trap, so he said, “Alright. But let’s make this clear. If I ever want to quit, I can walk away at any time.” The Revival Tree God nodded patiently. “Of course.” Then, he began to explain. “Before reaching third rank, most of your growth comes through tempering, things like real-world combat, experience, and life-or-death struggle. “But such training only works when there’s balance, when your opponent is roughly equal to you. That’s why having a teacher who understands your path, who can spar with you properly, can skyrocket your progress. “That’s the role I can play. But the true transformation happens at third rank. That’s when the path splits into three distinct systems—the Path of the Heavenly Soul, Path of the Earthly Soul, and Path of the Human Soul. “Everyone on this continent, every known power, cultivates the Path of the Human Soul. Even if most don’t realize it. “The Heavenly Soul walks the path of Yin entering Yang. The Earthly Soul is Yang entering Yin. Both are mysterious, elusive. You can’t reach them through normal cultivation. “But the Human Soul path, ours, is a balance of Yin and Yang. It’s the most grounded, the most stable. Once you enter third rank, you truly step onto the Human Soul path. “This path has five sub-realms— The False Painting of Balanced Yin and Yang. The True Painting, which reveals the beginning of form. Then, Bronze Painting, Silver Painting, and Gold Painting. Each stage reflects your inner world.” Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵✦𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✦𝓷𝓮𝓽 The Revival Tree God spoke with clarity and confidence, like a teacher who’d explained this many times before. Ping’an, for his part, was left blinking in confusion. “Painting? You mean like…mental visualization?” “No,” the Revival Tree God replied simply. Then he added, “That is the entrance to the Hall of Life. Unfortunately…no one has ever truly seen it.” “Huh?” Ping’an gawked. “What’s the Hall of Life supposed to be?” The Revival Tree God said, “It is…the hope of humanity.” “What?” Ping’an was stunned. The Revival Tree God smiled and said, “Come now, Ping’an. Let’s spar for a bit.” “No no no, hold up,” Ping’an protested. “What do you mean by painting? What’s this talk of Gold Painting, Silver Painting, and Bronze Painting? What’s this Hall of Life? You better explain all that properly!” “...” The Revival Tree God just smiled and said nothing. “Damn it!” Ping’an cursed. He wasn’t afraid of anyone, not the heavens, not the earth, not even this powerful weirdo in front of him. He stood his ground, unflinching. But the Revival Tree God’s tone remained gentle. “I’m just letting you glimpse the road ahead. As for what that road truly looks like, you’ll see it when you reach fourth rank.” He fixed his eyes on the young man before him and said with a smile, “You’re not far from that breakthrough now. Let me help you take the final step. Come on, attack me.” He stepped back half a pace. Instantly, rustling filled the air as the primeval garden around them began to stir. The tall grasses, ancient vines, breathing roots, trees, and strange flowers all shifted and parted, clearing a space for their duel. Ping’an stared at the man before him, and something strange stirred in his blood—a primal connection, inexplicable yet undeniable, as though the man in front of him truly were kin. “Aaaargh!!” He roared and charged forward, blade in hand. The Revival Tree God picked up his twig once more. But before meeting Ping’an’s attack, he turned to glance warily toward the Eternal Night Line just beyond the garden. Then he looked back, smiled, and stepped in to meet the strike. That old voice, beguiling and calm, continued its slow, mesmerizing monologue. Sheng'er sat with her chin in her hands, yawning. But then, something shifted in her senses. Her eyes lit up. She stood and said brightly, “Sorry! I’m hungry. Gonna head home for a meal, I'll come back after I eat.” And with that, she turned and walked out, her pace light and unhurried. The flock of crows with flapping wings remained behind, guarding the burial grounds. With them there, no one could breach the tomb. Still, the way back to camp wasn’t exactly safe. Which was why her younger brother, Naran, would always come fetch her and walk her home. They’d eat a meal together, and afterward, he’d escort her back to the Deathless Tomb before returning to his own business. Because the trip was such a hassle, Sheng'er didn’t come home every day. Sometimes she stayed at the Deathless Tomb for a week. Sometimes a month. The crows could handle things in her absence, as long as they were well-fed. Unlike how he treated Ping’an, Naran held great respect for his mysterious older sister. He knew full well how terrifying the Deathless Tomb was. And though his sister seemed so delicate, so frail, someone he could probably crush with one finger, she was the one who could hold down a place even their father couldn’t. Because of that, his way of addressing her had slowly changed. Amid the usual three heys, one might occasionally hear a soft Sister. And so, the two siblings rode back to camp, side by side, atop their direwolves.