Ten years passed away like flowing water. Another year's deep autumn came, and ginkgo leaves fell from their branches, becoming a sea of gold, dancing in the wind like fragments of heaven-sent gold. The frail boy who had first taken the mystical elixir had grown into a tall youth. At sixteen, LaUhta stood upon the hillside, his gaze sweeping over the undulating ridges, surveying the settlement built against the mountain, his thoughts churning like the autumn wind.

  Wisps of cooking smoke rose from the settlement, ascending from the chimneys of thatched roofs, interweaving in the crisp air to form a tapestry of daily life. LaUhta's lips curved upward unbidden, for he remembered every household, every villager who had extended a helping hand to him. Wang the potter's fingers were rough yet nimble, teaching him to sense the breath of clay; Bu the herbalist's medicines always carried a peculiar bitterness, yet eased his suffering after each dose of the mystical elixir; Ziping the fisherman, when taking him to sea, would stand at the prow saying: "The sea shows no emotion yet is full of feeling, like the Ethereal Origin—unseen and untouched, yet omnipresent."

  Canglian had once answered his question on a star-filled night: "Why does everyone care for me so?" "Those not of our kind deserve special care. You were not born here, yet were brought by heaven's will. Every life is part of the tapestry woven by fate." The old man pointed to the brightest star in the sky. "See that star, solitary yet not lonely, for it knows its place. So it is with you."

  Over the decade, through ten near-death experiences, though yet unable to touch the existence of the "One," LaUhta had grown resilient under the support of countless hands. His once childish features now showed defined angles, his eyes flashing with steadfast light.

  LaUhta walked slowly into the stone chamber, sunlight through the small window casting a patch of dappled light upon the floor. For ten years, this simple chamber had witnessed his growth, and his ten brushes with death. After each dose of the mystical elixir, he would toss and turn here, gritting his teeth through the heart-rending pain until the dawn light penetrated the latticed window, soothing his wounds.

  In ten years, LaUhta had never touched the existence of the "One." However, that obsession with becoming a Tao had gradually faded with the passage of years. Regardless of success or failure, life would continue, the sun would still rise, flowers would bloom and wither, and the seasons would cycle on.

  The door was gently pushed open with a faint creak. Canglian entered, leaning on his staff, the sound of wood striking the floor echoing in the stone chamber. A decade gone, more deep wrinkles lined the priest's face, his silver hair grown sparser, his gait more halting, but those eyes remained as sharp as a hawk's, seeming able to pierce the human heart.

  "Are you prepared?" Canglian asked, his voice deep and hoarse, yet unable to mask the concern and worry beneath. His eyes fixed intently on LaUhta, as if trying to read something from the youth's expression.

  LaUhta drew a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded calmly, "As always." His voice revealed a composure born of countless trials.

  The priest nodded slightly, his aged fingers drawing a delicate wooden box from within his wide sleeve, presenting it to LaUhta with both hands. LaUhta reached out to take the pill, his fingertips touching that smooth surface, feeling the mysterious energy contained within. He breathed in slowly, regulated his breathing, then brought the pill to his lips, letting it slide down his throat. A wave of heat gradually spread from his abdomen to his limbs, like a warm current flowing along his blood vessels, gradually pervading his entire body. The surface of his skin began to warm slightly, turning faintly red, like jade stones kissed by sunlight.

  LaUhta slowly closed his eyes, long eyelashes casting fine shadows on his cheeks. The world around him became clearer in the darkness, as if removing visual distractions had heightened his other senses. The sound of a breeze passing was clearly distinguishable, his nose could catch the herbal scent lingering from the wooden box, and even the distant conversations of villagers seemed close at hand.

  However, this time was different from before. The familiar pain, sharp as a blade tearing through his body, did not arrive as expected. LaUhta waited quietly, brow slightly furrowed, yet felt only a strange lightness, as if his entire body were immersed in warm springs. The intense pain that had accompanied each dose of the mystical elixir for ten years had become part of his life, and this unexpected comfort made him vigilant, as if facing a great enemy.

  The warmth flowed through his blood vessels, like countless tiny points of light streaming within him, neither piercing nor burning, leaving only a nearly pleasant warmth. His breathing became exceptionally even, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, yet his consciousness remained extraordinarily clear, as if some invisible force maintained his vital functions, making even breathing feel exceptionally light and comfortable.

  At this moment, he suddenly perceived them—the ubiquitous Ethereal Origin. They flowed like water through the air, colorless and formless yet undeniably present, moving among all things, connecting all existence. It was a subtle energy flow, belonging neither to the visible spectrum nor to ordinary matter, yet forming the foundation of the world.

  Simultaneously, as if responding to some mysterious summons, the Ethereal Origin surged toward him, penetrating his skin, seeping into his flesh, as if finding a long-lost home. LaUhta was horrified to feel himself becoming the center of a vortex, countless star-like energies drawn into his body, forming an ever-expanding energy field. This sensation was both strange and terrifying, as if the world's order had been upended through him, making him the core of some abnormal phenomenon.

  He instinctively tried to resist, muscles tensing, fingers digging deep into the bed, yet found himself powerless against this force. The flow of Ethereal Origin accelerated, forming a visible golden vortex, collapsing inward with him at its center. The surrounding air seemed to thin, breathing became difficult, his chest felt as if pressed by a great stone. Yet those energies pouring into his body made every inch of his flesh begin to glow and heat, as if an invisible flame had been kindled within.

  His thoughts seemed to separate from his body, consciousness detached from flesh, falling into a subtle, nameless realm. In this strange dimension, countless ink-colored particles were being nurtured within him, these particles pulsing in his flesh like particles yearning to break free from their bodily prison. They resembled motes in the void, yet contained a rhythm of life, flowing according to rules he could not decipher, sometimes gathering, sometimes dispersing, forming an abstruse, inscrutable pattern.

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  LaUhta felt as if he had become a miniature universe, every inch of his skin becoming the cradle for these enigmatic particles. The sensation was both bizarre and terrifying, like being confined within a body yet governed by some inexplicable force. These black particles sometimes coalesced, sometimes dispersed like smoke, traveling through his bloodstream, flowing through his marrow, as if reshaping his body into something entirely new.

  Distinctively, these particles were not the common hues, but a deep black, like liquid night or solidified void. That blackness was unlike ordinary color, but a depth that could devour all light, both void and substantial, seeming to contain some primordial force transcending all else.

  As more and more Ethereal Origin transformed into black particles, LaUhta felt an unprecedented trembling rise from the depths of his spine, spreading throughout his body. Every black particle born within him roared with a desire to break free, like ancient beasts imprisoned for ten thousand years finally finding a path to release. They crashed against his blood vessels, impacted his bones, seemingly ready to tear his flesh asunder at any moment. This destructive energy was so intense that he could clearly foresee: if these black particles escaped his body, they would spread like a plague, turning everything they touched into void.

  An icy chill spread from deep in his spine, every pore on his body contracting, as if facing an unnameable horror. Sweat rolled from his forehead, down his cheeks, soaking his collar. His breathing became rapid and labored, his heartbeat thundering in his chest.

  Fear swept over his mind like a tidal wave. LaUhta instinctively perceived that if this destructive energy escaped, the entire settlement, all those he cherished, would be reduced to ashes. Through his mind flashed countless familiar faces—Canglian's loving gaze, Wang's rough palms, Bu's warm smile, Ziping the fisherman's hearty laugh... he could not let these particles escape, absolutely not!

  "No!" he roared inwardly, his voice echoing in the space of consciousness.

  Strangely, at this moment, his body seemed to respond automatically. An invisible barrier formed within him, completely sealing those black particles within his body. Every part of his body became a prison, flesh for walls, bones for pillars, confining this power within. He felt as if he had become a besieged city, both trapping a terrible power and imprisoning himself within, becoming this power's eternal guardian and prisoner.

  LaUhta felt an unprecedented sense of fullness, as if his body had become a vessel brimming with energy. This was not pain, but a strange sense of fullness and heaviness. Like a long-dry riverbed suddenly receiving a great flood, both refreshing and overwhelming. His expression twisted slightly from this complex sensation, yet the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile.

  Canglian stood nearby, observing LaUhta intently, surprise and confusion flashing in his eyes. He had never seen the mystical elixir induce such a reaction. Normally, LaUhta would struggle in agony, sweating profusely, his face contorted, even letting out heart-rending wails. Yet today, the youth remained unusually calm, as if bathed in some strange radiance.

  "How... do you feel?" Canglian asked cautiously, his voice betraying undisguised curiosity and expectation. His hand gripped his staff tightly, knuckles whitening, body slightly leaning forward, awaiting LaUhta's answer.

  LaUhta blinked, his long eyelashes trembling slightly, the strange experience fading like a dream, yet more real than any dream, leaving an indelible mark on his heart. He looked toward Canglian, wanting to answer, yet found his sensory world completely changed, as if wearing glasses that could see through to the essence of the world.

  "I—" LaUhta's voice stopped abruptly, his pupils dilating in shock.

  On the stone chamber's walls, countless tiny energy points flowed, pulsing like living things, forming a complex and exquisite network. The simple stone table was no longer merely stone, but a structure composed of countless energy particles, arranged in a pattern that formed the solid shape visible to human eyes. More astonishing still, Canglian was surrounded by a faint golden halo, countless tiny energy streams flowing like rivers within him, forming a complex circulatory system.

  LaUhta could clearly see how the priest's life energy circulated within his body, see the spiritual light behind those aged eyes. Canglian was no longer merely an aged priest in his eyes, but a complex being composed of countless energies, showing both signs of aging and an undying flame of life.

  "I can see..." LaUhta murmured, his gaze unable to leave this new world, like a newborn opening its eyes for the first time, filled with wonder and astonishment. "I can see everything. The essence of all things, the flow of energy, the patterns of life..."

  Understanding flashed in Canglian's eyes, his aged face trembling slightly with excitement: "You... have touched the 'One'?" His voice quavered slightly with emotion, carrying a note of joyful disbelief.

  Both fear and joy intertwined in LaUhta's heart, like two undercurrents colliding in the depths of his consciousness. He sensed those black particles, forming a thin, mist-like existence, enveloping his insides, from fingertips to arms, to chest and throughout his body, omnipresent yet elusive. These particles flowed through his bloodstream, resonating with his life rhythm, yet always bound by some force he could not understand, as if an invisible barrier confined them within his body.

  LaUhta gently stroked his arm, feeling the pulse of blood vessels beneath his skin, this body undergoing changes he had never imagined, both familiar and strange. Immediately, he discovered he could sense things at different distances—the subtle swaying of old tree branches outside, the sound of flowing streams in the distance, even the boiling water in some household at the settlement's center, all became exceptionally clear.

  "So this is the 'One'..." LaUhta said softly, his slightly trembling fingers raised to examine his palm. He instinctively understood that he was experiencing an unprecedented transformation. What he sensed was not merely the change around him, but his own transformation. Those Ethereal Origin absorbed into his body had transformed into a terrifying yet powerful force, now forever a part of his existence, both blessing and curse.

  Canglian gazed at LaUhta, his look containing a thousand unspoken words. His fingers trembled slightly as he set down his staff, folding his hands on his knees, his voice deep and solemn: "What did you sense?" Each word carried heavy expectation, as if awaiting an answer both known and unknown.

  "It feels as if clamorous guests continually enter my body, yet remain trapped within my flesh." LaUhta said softly, fingertips tracing through the air, as if touching the invisible energy flow. His eyes gazed into the void, as if piercing the veil of reality to see a deeper existence. "They seek escape, yet are bound by some force. I can sense their presence, yet cannot release them beyond my body as in the legends. Is this the 'One'?"

  Upon hearing this, joy immediately blossomed on Canglian's weather-worn face, the wrinkles around his eyes spreading like blooming flowers. His thin hand slapped his knee sharply, producing a crisp sound, his whole being seeming to shed ten years of age, dispelling his usual steadiness and solemnity.

  Tears welled in the old man's eyes, his voice full of excitement, "I finally see it today. Uhta... you are the first person in a thousand years in our Lagu settlement to touch the 'One'!"

  LaUhta's Adam's apple bobbed, a thought flashing like lightning through his mind: from this moment, he would embark on a path entirely different from ordinary people, shouldering the responsibility of protecting the settlement, of guarding all those he cherished. The road ahead might hold dangers, but he was prepared to embark on this unknown journey.