Eternal Exile

We see Seung training alone. It's the third week after his birthday, and through intense physical training led by his mother—a former cultivator—he has grown stronger.

As the training ends and Seung catches his breath, his mother calls out,"Come here, Seung."

He walks toward her and sits down, while she remains standing.

"Seung," she begins, "there are many cultivation paths I need to tell you about.First: Qi Cultivation, Body Cultivation, Soul Cultivation, Dao Cultivation, Martial Cultivation, Bloodline Cultivation, Beast or Demon Cultivation, Artifact Cultivation, Evil or Demonic Cultivation, Dual Cultivation, Elemental Cultivation, Mental or Will Cultivation, and lastly, the path no mortal has ever walked—the Immortal or Divine Path."

She continues, "To walk any of these paths, you must first master Qi circulation, learn the basics of martial arts, and train in various techniques—which you already have."

Seung looks confused."How do I already have them?" he asks.

She smiles."Didn't your grandfather give you those books filled with methods and techniques?"

Seung suddenly realizes the value of those books."What about the scrolls, Mother?" he asks curiously.

"Once you're strong enough to handle them, I'll tell you," she says gently.

Then, softly:"So, which path will you choose, my son?"

With a serious, unsatisfied look, Seung replies:"I choose none of them."

His mother's face flushes with rage as she tries to stay calm."And why is that?"

"Because I want to walk my own path."

She can't hold back her anger. She slaps him—so hard he crashes through the ceiling and lands on the training ground below.

BOOM!

As the dust settles, her furious voice echoes,"Your grandfather would've slapped you to death for saying that!"

Seung groans from the ground,"But… I want to create my own path… T^T"

She storms outside and shouts:"I told you already—there are only these paths! Isn't it reasonable to choose at least one of the twelve?"

Seung, barely audible, whispers,"Didn't you say there were thirteen?"

Her blood boils again.

Scene Change

We now see Seung's swollen, bruised face. He sighs and pulls out one of the books from his shelf. As he opens it, a golden light beams out. Words float, and illustrations come alive, showing a stance in motion.

Without realizing it, Seung's body begins to move on its own, perfectly mimicking the stance.

Joy floods him. With a sudden punch, he shatters a wall.

His parents rush in, alarmed by the impact that shook the entire clan.

When they arrive, they see their son smiling brightly. Their hearts soften—even though the wall now has a massive hole in it.

"How did you break that wall?!" his father gasps.

That wall was the hardest part of the house—reinforced in every corner. But now, the room was visible from outside.

His mother's eyes fall on the book in his hand. Her jaw drops.

"Did you just perform the Profound Steps… and Dragon Fist?!"

Seung replies quietly,"I just looked at it… and it happened."

"What?! It took me two months to learn Profound Steps!" she shouts in disbelief.

His father beams with pride."Looks like my son is a once-in-a-millennium genius!"

His mother smiles, but her voice is soft."I'm glad he won't suffer like I did… But great talent often brings great loneliness."

His father gently takes her hand."I'm no cultivator… but I understand your fear."

Seung awkwardly coughs."Uhh… I'm still here."

"Shut up!" they both shout in perfect unison, breaking the moment.

The Next Morning

After finishing his morning run, Seung's father approaches him and hands him a box.

"This is your reward. Don't tell your mother," he says in a hush.

Just as his mother appears, they both pretend like nothing happened.

She asks suspiciously,"Finished your training?"

Seung nods, drenched in sweat.

"Trained hard? You're sweating a lot."

Another nod.

Also suspicious, she hands him another box."Open this in your room. Keep it secret."

He nods again, sweat dripping from his nervous smile.

In his room, he locks the door and breathes out in relief.

He opens the first box: a perfectly preserved 400-year-old ginseng root.

Then, curiosity pulls him to a book titled Primordial Breathing Technique.

As he opens it, a refreshing wind fills the room. A celestial figure appears, meditating with a glowing star on its belly.

Seung instinctively mimics the pose. Floating golden words surround him as he focuses and begins circulating Qi for the first time.

His body levitates, floating for four hours, as pure Qi enters his meridians.

When he opens his eyes, he feels weightless.

He decides to save the ginseng for later, closes the box, and opens the second one—from his mother.

Inside: 20 glowing pills and a mysterious ring. A note reads:

"Son, these are Millennium Spirit Root Elixirs. Take one at a time only after mastering Qi circulation. The ring is a Storage Ring—bind it with your blood and Qi."

He bites his finger, drops blood onto the ring, and watches as it pulses with energy and binds to him.

With focused Qi, he stores a pill inside the ring. Then he pulls it back out—stunned.

Excited, he stores both boxes.

Far away, hidden in a sacred realm untouched by time, someone was watching through a floating magical mirror of True Sight.

A man sat calmly on a throne of celestial jade, its base carved with coiling golden dragons and constellations that shimmered faintly in the air. Despite being a grandfather, he looked no older than thirty—his youthful face sharp and regal, framed by long, dark hair flowing like silk, streaked only faintly with silver strands that glowed like starlight.

His aura was terrifyingly calm, yet every breath he took seemed to command the Qi around him, causing the space itself to ripple faintly in reverence. Power clung to his skin like sunlight to gold.

He leaned slightly forward on his throne, resting his chin on one fist. His eyes—bright like twin suns—watched Seung through the mirror.

"So... the boy has begun," he said with a smirk. "Good. Let the world witness the rise of my bloodline once again."

A soft breeze circled the throne room despite being sealed tight, whispering through the celestial inscriptions on the floor.

He stood slowly, the air humming as his robe fluttered without wind.

"You'll walk your own path, will you?" he murmured."Then walk it as a dragon walks thunder—unshaken and unforgettable."

With a wave of his hand, the mirror vanished into motes of golden light. The throne room dimmed again, but the brilliance of his presence lingered—like the final chord of a symphony played beneath the heavens.