In the cool, quiet solitude of a secluded grove deep within the forest, Yinmo settled against a weathered trunk. The night was still, save for the soft murmur of leaves stirred by a gentle wind. Here, beneath the ancient canopy, his thoughts turned to the legend his father had once recited—a tale that blurred the lines between destiny and dark, unforeseen circumstance.
His father had spoken of Malrath, a man born with a good aptitude in the wood element—a talent valued for its ability to nurture vitality, promote growth, and heal the wounded. Malrath's skill was never exceptional, but it was steady—a quiet force that sustained life rather than ignited the battlefields of cultivation. Yet even such a modest gift carried a hidden potential when fate intervened.
According to the legend, Malrath's life took a dramatic turn during a brutal encounter in the wilds. In a fit of anger and despair, Malrath confronted a young core formation python—a fearsome beast renowned for its lethal internal energies. In an act born of fury, he swallowed the python's exceptional dark core, intending to share its demise and die alongside the monstrous creature. However, nature had other designs.
The python perished when its core was ripped free and ultimately swallowed by Malrath. In that dreadful moment, a potent, malevolent aura surged within him—a darkness so extraordinary that it began to erode his very essence. Yet, almost against the natural order, his inherent wood element—the same life-sustaining force that had always been his steady gift—began to intercede. Rather than letting the dark core consume him outright, his wood element slowed down the relentless refining of that malevolent energy.
In time, a perfect balance was forged within Malrath. His good aptitude in wood, working in tandem with the exceptional, aggressive force of the python's dark core, allowed a rapid—and, astonishingly, stable—refinement of dark energy. It was this unanticipated synthesis that birthed the demonic path. Malrath did not evolve into a dual cultivator in the traditional sense; he had not learned to wield both forces at will. Instead, the dark energy, forcibly introduced into his being, was tempered perfectly by his natural affinity for wood. This rare equilibrium—the unyielding, vibrant pulse of vitality merged flawlessly with a swiftly refining, dangerous darkness—became the very essence of what later would be known as dark magic.
As Yinmo sat in the moonlit stillness, he allowed the weight of his father's story to settle upon him. The implications were staggering. His own awakening, with its perfect balance between the nurturing warmth of the wood element and a creeping, ominous dark aura, mirrored that fateful transformation. Unlike legends that warned of a fragile, precarious balance destined to shatter at any moment, his newly awakened energies pulsed in a harmonious equilibrium. There was no trembling uncertainty in that balance—it was absolute, a synthesis of opposing forces that defied natural limits.
A shiver ran down Yinmo's spine as he pondered the implications. Is it possible that I, a mere mortal who was always told I had no cultivation talent, have now inherited such a force? The answer lay hidden within the interplay of his own blood—a perfect union of vitality and darkness, echoing the tragic, transformative journey of Malrath. His father's tale had always been as much a warning as it was an enigma. Malrath had never intended to conquer dark magic; he meant only to perish alongside the python. Yet fate had twisted that plan into something far more profound and dangerous.
Now, as Yinmo considered the flawless balance pulsating within him, he knew his destiny might be far more complex—not merely a continuation of weakness, but the emergence of an entirely new path. A path where he could, perhaps, master both the life-giving warmth of wood and the perilous, consuming allure of dark magic. However, a single, chilling question echoed in his mind: How can a human, untouched by the Demonic Path and unworthy of such terrible power, survive this perfect synthesis of forces?
In the stillness of the grove, with the legend of Malrath blazing in his memory, Yinmo resolved to seek the truth behind this mysterious inheritance. For within him now pulsed a destiny forged not from fragile hope or broken dreams, but from a rare and unyielding union of vitality and darkness—a union that had once condemned Malrath to infamy and might now redefine the limits of mortal cultivation.