Back Mountain Retreat.
Beyond the brocade pavilion amid deep bamboo, the shade was cool beneath the summer breeze.
An old man holding a tender branch sat cross-legged on a cushion within the pavilion, his eyes closed in contemplation. Incense smoke curled beside him. Under the shade outside, the still-young Zi Can read with complete focus. The retreat was tranquil and secluded, with only teacher and student present.
The entire hill was shrouded in a mysterious grand formation that gathered spiritual energy into the retreat, silently improving Zi Can's foundation.
Cool bamboo mats, a writing desk, meditation cushions, and immortal books and a treasured sword upon the table.
Studying was tedious, yet the contents of the books utterly engrossed the little boy. There was no sour pedantry in them, nor any doctrine of grieving for heaven and pitying mankind. Cultivation was secondary; hegemony was the main pursuit.
An insect in the bamboo grove beyond the pavilion was about to chirp when a Green Bamboo leaf silently flashed through the air and nailed itself to a stalk, slicing the insect in two.
The old man in the brocade pavilion withdrew his finger.
He taught and cultivated his student only on the first and fifteenth of each month; the rest of the time was for independent study. How could he allow ants and insects to disturb him?
Zi Can was so absorbed in reading that he never noticed an insect had died for no reason at all.
Looking at his student, the old man stroked his beard with a faint, knowing smile.
When calamity arose, countless Children of Destiny would inevitably be born to answer it. Some would be strong, some weak, but none were destined at birth to become the final protagonist of the great calamity. Their later struggles mattered just as