In an instant after swallowing the enigmatic lotus, Yinmo's world seemed to shift. His battered body, once weighed down by agony and fatigue, suddenly felt inexplicably lighter. A subtle, yet undeniable, flow coursed through him—a sensation his uncle had once cryptically described, the very mark of an essence gathering system awakening.
For a long, suspended moment, Yinmo lay still amid the whispering forest, his eyes wide as he tried to make sense of the unprecedented feeling. What is this? he thought frantically. I was always told I had no cultivation talent. Why now—why am I feeling this surge?
He closed his eyes, focusing inward, feeling along his meridians as if searching for a sign. There, deep inside, floated two distinct energies that pulsed gently in opposition. One was warm, reminiscent of the wood element, clearly identifiable from the lessons of the clan. That energy was familiar, reassuring—a deep, steady growth like the roots of an ancient tree. But the second was entirely different. At first, for a fleeting second, he wondered if it was merely the flicker of lightning—a natural ally of his clan's teachings. Yet, as he probed the sensation with his mind's eye, he noted certain characteristics that set it apart. It was cold and malevolent, a dark aura that seemed to suck in the light rather than reflect it.
Could it be? Yinmo wondered with mounting disbelief. Am I truly gathering not only the nurturing force of wood but also a dark, corrosive essence—something akin to dark magic?
His thoughts tumbled over each other. The clan had always taught that dark magic was anathema to ordinary mortals. Legends passed down in hushed tones said that humans who did not follow the Demonic Path—or who were not born as Magical Beasts—instantly succumbed to the lethal nature of darkness. This magic, they said, was so hostile to human vitality, it would drain one's life away at birth.
But here it was, pulsing at the very core of his being. Yinmo's mind raced as he retraced the moment he had swallowed the half-white, half-black lotus. Its bitter taste had mingled with the metallic tang of his own blood, and in that union, something inexplicable had sparked within him. Now, for the first time in his miserable life, he felt his body stirring with potential: a dual resonance—one force brimming with natural, life-sustaining energy, and the other a dark, enigmatic power that should have, as all lore warned, brought death instead of life.
But how can this be? he questioned himself over and over. No ordinary human could survive the infusion of darkness magic—it should sap vitality, drain the soul. Yet I am here...
The internal dialogue did little to calm the storm of disbelief swirling in his mind, yet slowly a daring hypothesis began to crystallize. If the sensations were real, then perhaps Yinmo was not like other mortals cast aside by fate. He might, in fact, be a dual mage—a rare being capable of harnessing both the wood element and dark magic. The very idea was as dangerous as it was revolutionary.
As Yinmo reassessed each nuance of the strange flow within him, the wood essence was unmistakable: it radiated warmth, growth, and life, much like the teachings of Moonveil Clan promised to those who embraced natural cultivation. In contrast, the dark aura was chilling and insidious, not the familiar charge of lightning that he had known some peers wielded—this was something distinctly different. It pulsated with a malignant energy, as if it were an unwanted guest in his soul, something forbidden for a human to possess.
Could this dark energy be... dark magic? he mused, the thought sending a shiver down his spine. The idea was preposterous by all known laws—any human touched by that force would wither away, would die before they even learned to walk the path of cultivation. Yet, against all expectations, his heart pounded steadily, and the energy flowed without consuming him.
In the quiet desperation following his near-death experience, Yinmo's internal debates grew louder. Am I truly a dual mage? Have I somehow defied the natural order? The implications were monumental. Such power, if controlled, could redefine everything he'd been told about his limitations. And yet, the risk was unthinkable. Dark magic was known for its insidious, destructive nature—a force that, if unholy or misdirected, could turn its wielder into a walking corpse.
His mind churned through every scrap of rumor, every lingering legend from his childhood. There were tales of prodigies who had tapped into darkness, only to be consumed by it. How can I possibly control something so inherently treacherous? he wondered bitterly.
The chaos of conflicting emotions and raw discovery left him both terrified and awestruck. Yinmo—once dismissed as a worthless mortal with no cultivation talent—now found himself on the precipice of an entirely new destiny. And as he lay there in the dim embrace of the forest, the gentle pulsation of the wood element a soothing contrast to the ominous dark aura encroaching on his soul, he began to understand the true magnitude of what was happening to him.
For the first time, hope mingled with trepidation, and a single daring thought emerged: if he could learn to master this duality, perhaps he could forge a new path that defied the cruel expectations set upon him by both fate and his clan. The revelation was as formidable as it was perilous—a reminder that beyond the boundaries of known cultivation, unimaginable power might dwell.
Yet even as the young cultivator marveled at the possibility of his newfound duality, one ominous question loomed in his mind, echoing in the silence around him: How is it possible that a human, not born of the Demonic Path or blessed with a beast's nature, could survive dark magic? The question would haunt him, a riddle that he knew he must unravel if he was to understand the true scope of his unfathomable potential.