Ten years. To many, it's a blink, a fleeting page in the book of time. But for me—Ye Caiqian—these ten years have been the crucible in which my very soul has been refined.
When I close my eyes, I can still feel the echoes of that first surge of spirit energy so long ago—the tingling warmth that once flowed like mist through my meridians, dancing from fingertip to crown, each movement a lesson in patience, each breath a promise of growth.
But time is the greatest teacher. Under its unyielding gaze, I have grown from a youth barely able to sense the world's invisible currents to something far greater—a cultivator on the edge of a new realm, bearing the hopes of a civilization.
I am no longer the only one. Humanity has flourished, with tens of thousands now reaching the third, fourth, and even fifth tier of evolution. But in quiet moments, in the deep hours before dawn when the world is silent and the Library's great halls are empty, I alone walk this path toward the unknown.
The most profound change came with the crossing of the fifth tier. For years, my spirit energy flowed as vapor—a gentle, persistent presence, nurturing body and mind. But on the day I broke through, everything changed.
It was not a grand event, no thunder in the heavens or shaking of the earth. Instead, I sat in the heart of my chamber, legs folded, breath deep and slow, heart as calm as a still lake.
The energy within me surged and coalesced. What had once been formless became tangible.Mist gathered, thickened, and condensed, swirling within my dantian with ever greater speed. Then, in a single, perfect instant, it collapsed—Spirit energy became liquid.
The sensation was impossible to describe to anyone who had not felt it.Heaviness filled my core—not burdensome, but potent, like holding a sun in the palm of my hand. My meridians pulsed, reinforced by this concentrated force. Every cell in my body seemed to sing with power, and when I moved, I felt the world respond in kind.
In this state, I could heal wounds in seconds, summon elements with a flick of my will, and withstand blows that would have once shattered bone.Even my senses sharpened: the scent of rain before it fell, the song of wind threading through the Library's high windows, the quiet joy in a student's laughter.
The transformation changed not just my strength, but my understanding.Spirit energy was no longer simply fuel—it was substance. With liquid spirit, I could imbue tools, inscribe talismans, or heal wounds beyond the reach of ordinary medicine.
It took years more to refine that liquid energy, cycling it, purifying it, testing its boundaries. Each new discovery was a step further along the road.
Now, as a sixth-tier evolver, my world has changed again.The reservoir within my dantian grows vaster, deeper, more profound. My command over the elements—fire, water, earth, air, and the rarer forces of light, darkness, and even space—has become effortless.Simple tasks—igniting a lamp, moving a stone, healing a fever—require only a thought. More complex arts, fusing two or even three elements together, are the subject of my daily meditations and experiments.
Yet for all my progress, I remain hungry. The next step—the seventh tier—calls to me as the horizon calls to a wanderer.In my deepest meditations, I sense the liquid spirit swirling faster and faster. I see it, in my mind's eye, condensing again—becoming denser, brighter, until at last it forms a core.The core is legend among the most advanced theorists: a crystallization of power, a "spirit core" that will elevate the body, mind, and soul to undreamed-of heights.
Will I succeed where no one has yet walked?Or will this path demand a price even I cannot yet foresee?
Even as I walk this solitary path, I remain a teacher, mentor, and sometimes, rival to the best cultivators of my age.
My sparring partners now are the legends of the new world:
Xu Wen, master of the Storm Guild, who commands wind and lightning like a living tempest.
Lin Yue, the Life Healer, whose hands mend not only flesh but shattered spirits.
He Jun, the Ironmist Blacksmith, who can shape molten steel and spirit bone as if they were clay.
Our matches draw crowds from every city. Not for spectacle, but for the insights each duel reveals.
A clash of fire and water, spirit and will, always ends with new discoveries—new arts, new ways to blend elemental flows, new strategies for healing, crafting, and even city-building.
Many times, I lose myself in the flow, forgetting the audience, forgetting even my own name. In these moments, I glimpse what might come after the core—the unity of all elements, the dawn of a new cultivation era.
I share every breakthrough, every failure, with my students.No secret is hoarded; the era of selfish power is gone.Through the Library and its branches, my lessons spread:
The "Path of the Core," a new doctrine for those who seek to reach the seventh tier.
Manuals for merging elements, for using liquid spirit to heal, create, or defend.
Warnings about arrogance and the hidden dangers that always come with newfound strength.
As humanity adapts, the uses of liquid spirit multiply.
Healers learn to seal wounds instantly, to revive the poisoned, to ward off sickness with a gentle touch of energy.Blacksmiths infuse tools and weapons with power that endures for years.Builders raise bridges and towers that stand against storm and time, using spirit-infused mortar and elemental shaping.
Even artists and musicians find ways to express the subtle resonance of liquid spirit—painting with light, composing music that soothes or inspires crowds, inscribing stories that can be "read" by touch as well as sight.
Yet, for all these wonders, I warn my students:"The core of progress is humility. The greatest danger is to forget that every breakthrough was built on countless failures and lessons from the past."
Now, each night as I sit in my quiet chamber, I feel the threshold drawing near.
In meditation, the liquid in my dantian swirls faster, the pressure rising. Sometimes, I see flashes of inner light—visions of what might come:
A world where the elements obey thought as easily as breath.
The birth of the first true soul core—a heart of crystal, fusing body and mind into a single, immortal will.
Dangers: images of calamity, of those who push too far or lose themselves in power.
But always, I return to the present—to the laughter in the Library halls, the joy of discovery, and the certainty that whatever comes, I will meet it with open eyes and a steady heart.