The ring behind him continued to expand, its edge shaving stone as easily as thought cuts doubt. Mountains did not collapse so much as yield, layers of rock peeled away in smooth arcs, falling soundlessly into the abyss sea below. The cliff that once crowned the cavern had already been ruined by earlier clashes, but now even the scars of battle were being erased, planed flat by that rotating halo.
Light spilled from his back. It traced the curve of his shoulders, the line of his spine, and dissolved into the air like breath in winter. Above, the sky was torn between colours: black and gold braided together, heavy with pressure. A broken moon hung there, split like a cracked mirror, its fragments drifting slowly, reflecting a battlefield that had forgotten how to rage. Gods, demons, and that woman—all of them had stopped. Their weapons trembled in their hands.
She staggered, planting her sword into the ground to keep herself standing. Blood slid down her fingers and dripped from the blade's edge, dark petals falling without bloom. Her breathing was uneven, her body punctured and torn from holding back forces that should have erased her long ago. Still, her eyes were fixed on him.
"What… is that thing on his back?" she whispered, awe and disbelief tangled together. "It's just like him." Her voice shook, not with fear, but with recognition. "So that's why he said that…."
The god and the demon nearby bore wounds of their own, cracked armour, scorched flesh, fractured halos and broken horns, but compared to her, they still stood tall. Yet neither dared move now. Whatever they had planned, whatever dominance they sought, had been interrupted by something that did not acknowledge their authority.
Inside, the world was changing.
The violent energies that had once scorched the land were being drawn inward, not devoured, but repurposed. Lava slowed, thickened, cooled, not into dead stone, but into fertile earth veined with warmth. Volcanoes that had roared like open throats softened into gentle mountains, their fiery hearts turning into glowing springs. Ash settled and became soil. Cracks filled with green.
A vast platform emerged beneath a waterfall, no, twelve waterfalls.
They descended from twelve mouths carved into the stone of the cliff, each mouth shaped differently, each pouring water of a slightly different hue: clear, silver, pale gold, deep blue. The streams twisted as they fell, merging into one immense column that struck the crown of a boy seated cross-legged beneath it. The water flowed through him.
Behind him, the ring pulsed once, and a disk unfolded from it, rotating steadily. Upon that disk, twelve wheels turned, each etched with symbols too subtle to read, each aligned to a rhythm older than language. With every rotation, the land breathed.
On the surrounding cliffs, trees burst forth, scarlet-leafed, jade-veined, sapphire-fruited, roots gripping stone as if it were soft earth. Flowers opened and closed in cycles that matched the boy's breath.
Outside, she laughed softly, though it hurt her to do so. "Thirteen," she murmured. "He even turned the disk into a wheel." Her gaze sharpened, filled with something like pride. "He reached the pinnacle of the first chakra… in six years." She exhaled, long and slow. "So it's done. Your work is done. You fulfilled your promise after all...."
She looked at the faint glimmers aligned along his body, twelve settled, one still forming. "The thirteenth wheel hasn't fully awakened yet," she added quietly. "But the foundation… it's complete."
Then, outside the inner realm, the boy opened his eyes.
He realized he was sitting on the air itself, legs folded, weight supported by nothing he could name. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his face, shielding his eyes as if waking from a long sleep. His fingers trembled slightly. When he lowered his hand, his gaze was clear, too clear, like water that had flowed through too many stones.
He saw the god. He saw the demon. They were distant now, no longer towering, no longer central. Then he saw her.
He stepped forward, and the air folded beneath his feet like a patient road. Each step was gentle, as if he were afraid of breaking something fragile. He stopped in front of her, close enough to see the blood, the torn skin, the exhaustion carved into her posture.
He tilted his head.
"What happened to you?" he asked, his voice small, almost embarrassed by its softness. "Why are you hurt so much?" His eyes moved briefly, without fear, toward the god and demon. "Did they attack you… like they attacked me?"
She nodded, slowly, suspended in the air by fatigue more than gravity.
He frowned. He said, as if stating a simple truth. Then, after a pause, another question surfaced, innocent and sincere. "Why… was I sitting on the air?"
She looked at him for a long moment.
She shook her head slowly, strands of blood-darkened hair clinging to her cheek. "You don't need to know," she said, her voice low but steady. "Time will tell. Some truths only reveal themselves when you are strong enough to survive them." Then her gaze lifted, sharp as a drawn blade. "But you know them, right…?"
He followed her eyes.
High above, seated upon the fractured vault of the sky, the god and the demon faced away from each other, backs aligned yet wills opposed, like two pillars holding up a broken heaven. One side of the clouds burned gold, radiant and severe; the other sank into abyssal black, writhing with shadow. Between them, invisible lines of power were already weaving.
She hissed softly. "Stop them. Before they construct the gates again."
He blinked. "What gate? What… again?"
Her expression tightened. "We don't have time." Blood dripped from her elbow and vanished before it touched the air. "If those gates are completed, they'll anchor themselves inside your body. They won't fight you anymore. They'll wear you."
He stared at the sky, and in that instant, something shifted.
A pressure bloomed behind his eyes. His forehead tingled, then his spine, then his limbs. Runes surfaced across his skin like ink rising through water, painting his body with symbols. Behind him, the ring flared into being once more, rotating with a slow, solemn authority.
He turned back to her, panic flickering through his calm. "Miss… how do I attack? I don't know any attack moves."
She stared at him, incredulous despite herself. "What are you talking about? Quickly, don't think like that. Just do something."
He hesitated, then lifted his fist and threw a simple punch toward the sky.
The air screamed.
A formless surge tore outward from his knuckles, compressing space itself. It slammed into an unseen barrier far above, causing the sky to ripple like struck glass. He punched again—once, twice—each strike heavier, more focused, until cracks spidered across the shimmering shield protecting the two figures. Beneath them, a vast rune-circle flickered, lines erasing themselves under the impact.
Then, suddenly, he stopped.
The god and demon laughed, their voices overlapping in cruel harmony. "What raw power," the demon mocked. "No form, no discipline, and yet he nearly shattered the barrier."
The god's eyes narrowed. "If he learns to wield that energy consciously…" A pause, heavy with implication. "We must hurry."
She turned sharply to the boy. "Why did you stop?"
He scratched the back of his head, looking almost embarrassed. "I… don't know how to use this energy. No one taught me. Back home, my veins couldn't handle it. They said if I tried, I'd break myself. They even threw me out because of it."
Her eyes widened. "You don't know?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "That's impossible. Everyone who reaches this place already knows the basics."
The god's expression darkened. "You still don't understand," he said coldly. "He is a heretic. Someone altered his fate and forced him here."
The demon sneered. "A mistake walking in a sacred realm."
She laughed softly, an unexpected, almost relieved sound. "Thank you for sending him here." She glanced at the boy. "Yes… she told me someone would come. But it wasn't you." Her gaze sharpened. "You wear a different face."
The boy nodded slowly. "I know who you mean. But he didn't come here. So… I don't know anything else."
She waved it away. "It doesn't matter. Can you save me?" He said "Why not? You helped me when I needed? So, I will help you." Her voice softened. "Ok, I'll help you then."
The sky darkened further, gold and black flashing violently as the god and demon's auras surged. "Kill him now," the demon roared. "If he grows any further, it will be total disaster!"
She smiled faintly, blood staining her teeth. "Then let it be."
He walked toward her, feet stepping on nothing but air, each step firmer than the last. She straightened with effort and began to murmur words too old for language. One hand pressed to her chest, palm open; the other guided flowing energy like silk through water. When he stood before her, she reached out and placed her index finger against his forehead.
Magnetic lines burst into existence inside his mind—letters, symbols, flowing diagrams—streaming in endless succession. They did not overwhelm him. They aligned him. He saw circulation as rivers, breath as wind, intent as gravity. The ring behind him resonated, matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"This technique," her voice echoed inside and outside him at once, "is not an attack. It is understanding. Feel it—now."
He frowned slightly, still trying to steady the surge of symbols echoing through his thoughts. "What… what did you send?" he asked honestly.
She looked at him as if he had just asked whether the sun was warm. "You really don't know?" A tired smile tugged at her lips. "Technique transfer. Direct imprint." Her eyes narrowed, measuring him again. "How can a greenhorn like you suddenly gain such an understanding of life? Even veteran cultivators would collapse under that flood."
He hesitated. "Then… where did you—"
"That's enough," she cut him off sharply. Her tone softened a fraction. "Let me help you first. Even though your energy path is closed… you can open it later."
His breath caught. "My path… is it still possible?"
She did not lie. "No. Not as you are now." She studied him with a healer's precision. "You don't lack talent or essence. Your problem is structural, vein shortening, marrow disruption, channels twisted at birth." Her brow creased. "I don't know how to solve that. You'll have to find the answer yourself."
A pause, then more gently, "For now, you can only use very mild energy. Push more and your body will tear itself apart."
He swallowed. "Then, how you will help me?"
She said quietly, "What you are using you can use that energy by any body parts? But real veins for energy is different. So, it will not create a problem." She stepped closer. "Now don't resist. I'm going to show you something."
Above them, the god and demon exchanged sharp glances.
"She's teaching him," the demon snarled. "Finish it. Call them first."
"Done," the god replied, nodding once.
The sky convulsed.
A dark red sun descended from one side of the heavens, while a blazing golden sun fell from the other. Clouds collapsed inward, folding like burning paper, and a grotesque solar eclipse formed—half crimson, half gold, suspended unnaturally at the midpoint of the sky.
The sea below roared.
Waves rose higher and higher until the horizon itself seemed to tilt. From behind them came a wall of water five times their height, its shadow swallowing the battlefield. But just as it should have crushed everything, the wave split cleanly down the middle.
Between the parted waters, a gate rose.
Ancient. Vast. Moving upward as if being pulled by unseen hands.
The sight struck his mind like thunder. His awareness scattered inward, searching desperately through his body for something, anything, that resonated with that gate. Veins, bones, breath, heart, mind… he felt everything, yet could not find the precise point that answered its call.
Then she moved.
She stepped behind him and placed her palm against his back.
"Don't resist," her voice echoed directly inside his mind.
Energy poured into him, gentle yet inexorable. He gasped as something slipped past his defences, threading itself into his circulation.
"What narrow veins," her voice remarked, half-annoyed, half-amused. "Ridiculous. But fine. If you understand this energy there is no need of it also, you might survive."
In an instant, he was no longer standing beneath the broken sky. He was moving, drifting, through himself. Awareness peeled inward until he arrived at a boundary neither dark nor bright, a place hovering between unconscious and subconscious.
Before him spread a vast inner sea.
Its waters were calm, luminous, reflecting thought rather than light. Countless small islands floated across its surface, each carrying a distinct presence. Some pulsed softly. Others slept in silence.
"This…" he breathed, awed despite himself.
She appeared beside him, her form clearer here than in the outer world. "Your inner space," she said. "The place where mind, memory, and will intersect."
She gestured forward, guiding him toward a nearby island.
It bloomed with color.
Pink and violet plum trees covered the land, their branches heavy with blossoms that never fell. Even the bushes glowed with soft rose hues, and the air was thick with a gentle fragrance that soothed the spirit.
He smiled unconsciously.
She noticed two other islands nearby. She was about to ask—
"They were given to me," he said quickly, almost protectively. "By a granny… and someone else. Don't touch them."
She stared at him, then sighed deeply and flicked his forehead. "You fool. You already know this place. Why pretend you don't?"
"Ouch!" He rubbed his head. "I know it, but you should explain properly—"
She punched him again, harder this time. "Dummy. I don't have much time left. And you're wasting it." Her gaze hardened. "Remember this. This place is called the inner space. Everything you seek outside must first pass through here."
He straightened at once.
"I'm leaving now," she said, her voice already beginning to fade. "Understand that leaf technique. Quickly. They're about to complete it."
Her form dissolved like mist.
The inner sea trembled.
Far above, beyond perception, the gate continued to rise.
............
He nodded, not with certainty but with surrender, and allowed the technique to unfold inside him the way dawn unfolds inside a closed eye—slow, inevitable, and impossible to stop once it begins. Within his inner space, the leaf she had shown him dissolved into lines, the lines into breath, the breath into meaning. Outside, the world did not wait.
The gate had fully risen.
It did not burst open.
Half of it was a hell-gate: iron-black and diseased, its surface crawling with half-melted human faces burned into the metal, mouths frozen mid-scream. From its lower half descended a staircase carved of bone and skulls, each step oozing black pus and stagnant water that dripped endlessly into the sea below. The air around that side stank of decay and old hatred, and the water beneath it churned as if trying to escape itself.
The other half was divine.
White-gold stone veined with scripture-like runes, glowing softly, calmly, cruelly pure. Its stairs were etched with flowing symbols that rearranged themselves with every blink, each step radiating judgment rather than rot. Carved into the gate were countless divine beasts—phoenixes, qilin, tigers, dragons—not alive. On both sides of the stair, twelve guardians stood motionless: hellish wardens of bone and iron on one side, celestial sentinels of light and stone on the other. None moved. None breathed. Yet all watched.
The sky trembled.
As she emerged fully from his inner space back into the world, she felt it immediately, the rune beneath the sea cracking apart like old glass. Her eyes widened. "So they chose this answer," she whispered.
The god and demon no longer had forms.
They liquefied mid-air, flesh and divinity collapsing inward, then twisting violently together. Black and gold spiralled, screamed, fused, until two colossal dragons rose where they had stood. One was obsidian-veined with molten gold eyes; the other radiant gold streaked with abyssal black scales. Behind each dragon rotated a ring, but crude, unstable, nothing like the quiet authority of the boy's.
They coiled atop the gate and roared.
The sound alone shattered clouds, peeled the sea back, and tore open memories buried in the world itself.
Then the gates opened.
Not outward, but inward.
From within poured sound. Every sound that had ever existed: the first cry of a new-born, the last breath of a dying god, steel breaking bone, wind cutting mountains, prayers whispered and screams swallowed. Those sounds solidified into weapons thousands, tens of thousands swords, spears, shurikens, halberds, chains, bells, needles, bows made of resonance itself. They rained down toward her and the boy, carrying neither mercy nor intent, only function.
She stepped forward, blood already slipping from her fingers.
"Hnh…" she exhaled, a tired, almost amused sound. "So this is where my road ends."
She glanced back at him once. On his forehead, a moon sigil had fully formed, intertwined with a plum petal mark, black and white circling each other, unfinished but alive.
"Not bad," she said softly. "But I really have to do it."
She drew on what remained.
"Plum Blossom Barricade – Final Bloom: Living Grove."
From her palms erupted light shaped like branches. A vast plum tree manifested before them, roots sinking into air, trunk splitting reality, branches flowering instantly. As the weapons struck, they did not explode, they softened, transforming into petals that drifted harmlessly away.
But the tree paid the price.
Every cut on its bark appeared on her body. Lines opened across her arms, shoulders, ribs. Blood traced plum-colored veins across her skin. Branches shattered; bones cracked. Her breath faltered as her own life force leaked into the barrier.
The tree began to fall.
Then, something changed.
The broken branches shuddered, reversed, and grew again, but not as before. This time, black and white surged upward like twin pillars, entwining into a living column of ink and light. At its crown, branches curved into arches, leaves and flowers crystallizing into gates, torii-shaped, layered, recursive, white blooming from black, black blooming from white.
Sudden a small hand pressed gently against her back.
She smiled without turning. Her wounds closed rapidly, flesh knitting as if time itself had been embarrassed by her damage.
"Don't worry," she said, voice barely above the wind. "You can go now. Don't heal me completely. If I rest… I won't wake."
"I won't let you sleep," he said, surprisingly firm. "Stay there."
He stepped forward.
The dragons watched, coils tightening.
"He came back," one dragon hissed, its voice layered with divinity. "But he still doesn't understand his own power."
"We can kill him," the other replied. "But that gate… it wasn't ours."
The boy looked up at them in irritation, like someone interrupted mid-thought.
"You tried to destroy something I was building," he said quietly.
He lifted his hand.
"Don't worry," he continued, eyes steady, runes igniting across his skin. "I'll show you what hell looks like before death."
The ring behind him rotated.
Ink and light bled into the air.
"Sage Art — Chapter One, Clause One," he said, voice echoing through sea and sky alike.
"Gate of Duality: Infinite Manifestations."
To be Continued...