Soul Land: Origin of Humanity

How long had it been since I, Ye Caiqian, first left the comfort of civilization for the edge of the wilds? Years bled into one another, measured less by the passage of seasons than by the leaps I made—each new threshold, each power gained, a silent tally in the depths of my soul. But today, the horizon of my journey was closer than ever. I stood at the precipice of something wholly new, and the world itself seemed to hold its breath.

For this breakthrough, I chose a place untouched by any other human: a solitary mountain whose crown was lost in clouds, wrapped in mists that shimmered with faint spirit light. The peak held a shallow cave, half open to the wind, half shrouded in the roots of a tree so old its bark was silver.

I fasted for three days, cleansing mind and body. I drew a spirit array around myself—eight stones, four for the elements, four for the mind—each marked with the runes I'd gathered on my travels. The air here was charged, as if the land itself watched and waited.

On the fourth sunrise, I settled cross-legged, closed my eyes, and reached inward—preparing to challenge the limit of the human path.

My lower and upper dantians churned with soul energy, both cores gleaming—one in the belly, one above the heart. But neither was enough.The 9th tier loomed like a mountain above all that had come before.

I drew the energy upward in a tidal surge, circulating it through every meridian, every muscle, every thread of my being. The pressure was immense. My bones ached, veins burning with liquid spirit. Sweat poured from my brow as visions flashed before me: every fight, every loss, every moment of courage or doubt that had shaped my journey.

It felt as though the sky itself pressed down on me, testing my resolve.

I gritted my teeth and pressed onward. I called to mind the faces of those I'd helped, the hands I'd held, the eyes that looked to me with hope. For them, for the future, I would not break.

The moment came suddenly—an explosive surge, a shattering of old barriers. My soul energy roared, a tidal wave crashing through every cell.In that instant, I crossed the 9th tier. My body felt both as light as air and as solid as stone.A third current flickered to life—spirit, neither wholly soul nor wholly mind, moving through me in a spiral.

I had climbed the summit of human cultivation, yet the path ahead did not end—it only grew stranger.

Exhausted but exultant, I did not stop. I knew the true work was just beginning.

I slowed my breath, diving inward—not into body or element, but into the stormy sea of spirit that was my mind.Here, in this limitless expanse, waves of memory and possibility crashed around me. I saw images from this life and fragments from before:—My mother's gentle smile.—The City of Beginning rising from mud and hope.—Ancient words whispered by dragons in lost ruins.—A vision of humanity, countless souls walking forward together, their fates twined.

Yet the sea was not calm. Every fear, every regret, every failure rose like a wave: my doubts about leadership, the weight of loneliness that came with being first, the terror that someday, all this would vanish.

I floated in the storm, buffeted but unbroken, searching for the heart of my own mind.

The moment of collapse came—my spirit strained, the storms inside growing fiercer. For a moment, I was tempted to turn back, to rest on what I had achieved. But I remembered the words carved in that ancient shrine:

"When the mind's sea gains a core, the gates will open, and the world shall be remade."

I reached deeper, beyond thought, beyond fear.And then—clarity.

I pictured my mind's sea as a whirlpool, spinning faster, drawing every memory, every lesson, every drop of hope and pain toward a single, radiant center.I condensed my will, my love, my ambition, my sorrow—all fusing together.It was agony and rapture at once. And then——the spiritual core was born.

A star flared in the center of my consciousness, flooding the sea with light.Suddenly, everything was still.

The change was absolute. My mind was sharper than steel, calm as a mountain lake. I could sense threads of spirit energy drifting between the trees, hear the distant pulse of life even in sleeping seeds beneath the earth.The elements responded not only to my will, but to my very thoughts. I could feel the intention of the wind, the dreams of fire, the silent patience of stone.

If I focused, I could touch the minds of beasts or people nearby—gently, as a whisper, a subtle reassurance or a glimmer of warning.I glimpsed fate itself: rivers of possibility branching out from each moment, a tapestry woven from choices and courage and chance.

For the first time, I understood what it meant to be truly more than human—not just in strength, but in spirit.The gate had opened, and I stepped through.

When I opened my eyes, the world seemed new.Colors were brighter, sounds deeper.Spirit energy moved in visible swirls and spirals, and when I reached out, the very earth hummed in greeting.

I stood, stretching muscles that felt remade. I pressed my palm to the ancient tree beside the cave, and its spirit answered—a memory of rain, of root and leaf, drifting through my mind.

I laughed, dizzy with joy.This is what humanity can become.

I knelt and offered thanks—to the world, to my ancestors, to every teacher and friend who had given me the strength to reach this point.

As the sun rose over the mountain, painting the mist in gold, I felt the call of destiny louder than ever.Dragons, ancient gods, the secrets of the world—all awaited me now.

But more than that, I knew:This was only the beginning.

With three cores blazing—lower dantian, upper dantian, and now my spiritual core—I was ready to walk paths no one had ever dreamed.And I would carry all of humanity with me.