Soul Land: Origin of Humanity

Years drifted by in the wilderness, each season layering new experience upon old scars. My journals now filled several packs—volumes crammed with sketches of beasts, pressed flowers, elemental resonance diagrams, and maps that stretched the very definition of what humanity called a world.I, Ye Caiqian, wandered further than I had ever imagined possible.

I saw villages born from nothing, towns that blossomed on old trade roads, and distant cities rising, their walls echoing the principles I'd once preached in the City of Beginning. Sometimes, I paused to offer counsel or a spark of wisdom; other times, I simply watched as life unfolded—no longer a leader, but a witness, a thread in the ever-growing tapestry of my people's destiny.

But I did not wander aimlessly.With every mile, every battle, every sleepless night beneath the spirit-washed sky, I felt the world testing me—its challenges growing sharper, its energies wilder and more complex. I catalogued new elemental phenomena and rare beasts, but I was just as intent on understanding myself.

I had long since mastered the rhythm of my soul power, cycling it from my lower dantian through the meridians, then back to the new space near my heart—the upper dantian. Here, the energy felt different: lighter, yet heavier, shimmering with a strange, liquid luminosity. As weeks became months, I realized the pressure inside my upper dantian was mounting, swelling until even the air around me buzzed with its presence.

It was a familiar tension. I had felt it years ago, when I first forged a soul core in my lower dantian. But now the sensation was subtler, deeper—a kind of spiritual music thrumming just beneath my heartbeat.

I made camp in a high valley, surrounded by stone pillars carved by ancient winds. Below me, the world unfurled: rivers glowing silver in the moonlight, forests whispering with wild spirit energy, the horizon broken by the distant peaks of a mountain range I'd yet to cross. Here, at the edge of everything, I would attempt my next breakthrough.

I cleared the ground, laying down a simple spirit array—four stones for the cardinal elements, a circle of salt to stabilize the flow. I burned incense, its smoke curling upward and catching the first rays of dawn. My heart was steady, but my mind whirled with memory.

Five years since I left the city. A lifetime since I was only human.

I sat cross-legged, palms resting lightly on my knees, and drew my awareness inward. Spirit energy moved in great tides—first from the lower dantian, then circulating along each meridian, and finally pooling in the upper dantian near my heart.The sensation was overwhelming: a pressure like a thousand storms, a brilliance on the edge of pain.

Now.

I gathered every strand of my spiritual power, focusing it into a vortex at the center of my upper dantian. Years of meditation and mind cultivation let me mold the energy with clarity and precision.I visualized the process—liquid soul power swirling, tightening, compressing toward a single point.

The air thickened; my skin prickled with elemental resonance. In my mind's eye, the vortex spun faster, spirit energy growing denser, heavier, until light itself seemed to bend around it.A cracking sound echoed through my soul—a rupture, then a rush of power as the core began to take shape. I clenched my teeth, holding the pressure steady. My bones ached; my veins thrummed; every breath became a struggle.

For hours, I held that vortex, using visualization and force of will to keep the energy from scattering. When exhaustion threatened, I reached deep—drawing on memories of city, family, the hopes of a world I had vowed to protect.Suddenly, as if a veil had parted, the energy compressed into solidity.

With a silent explosion, the soul core formed—a sphere of dazzling brilliance, hovering in the center of my upper dantian.

The world changed. I could see it—spirit energy dancing in colored strands, the currents of elemental power weaving through stone, water, air, and the flesh of living things. The horizon shimmered with patterns I'd never glimpsed before: the flow of fate, the pull of future and past, all threads running through the great tapestry of the world.

My own body felt both weightless and indestructible. My skin hummed with spirit energy. I could gather fire, water, wind, and earth with a thought, and blend them into combinations undreamed of by any scholar or cultivator. The pressure I had always felt—the sense that I was pushing against a wall—had vanished. In its place was open sky, limitless and wild.

More than strength, it was clarity.I understood not just the "how" but the "why" of my powers—why my soul cores formed as they did, why my body responded to the call of the world.I realized, too, that with this new core, my potential for storing and manipulating spirit energy had multiplied. The upper dantian acted as a second reservoir, its energy distinct but harmonious with the lower. New techniques formed in my mind, and I knew I would need years to explore them all.

When the breakthrough faded, I slumped back, trembling and drenched in sweat. For a long while, I simply lay there, staring up at the sky, letting the realization settle in.

I had crossed the 8th tier. Two soul cores: one in the lower dantian, one in the upper. A new league entirely—no longer merely human, but something… more.

I pulled out my journal, hands still shaking, and recorded every sensation, every step of the process. I sketched diagrams, annotated the changes in perception, and even tried to map the new patterns of energy I saw overlaying the land.

Yet, for all the triumph, I sensed that I had not yet reached the end. The horizon still called, and beyond it lay a realm I could barely imagine. The ancients had left their marks on this world, and the mystery of dragons, gods, and spirit was yet unresolved.

Dawn broke over the mountains, gilding the wild valleys with fire. I stood at the edge of the high plateau, spirit energy swirling around me, and let the wind carry my promise to the world:

I am Ye Caiqian. I have crossed another threshold. But I am not done. I will see the world's true face. I will write the next chapter of humanity with my own hand.

And so, with new strength, new sight, and a heart full of wonder, I set my feet once more on the path ahead—toward the unknown, the unwritten, and the eternal sky.