When Shen Tian turned ten, the changes in him became impossible to ignore.
Not in appearance—though his physique had already grown taller, sharper, with the faint silhouette of an adolescent instead of a child. Not in voice—though it carried a calm confidence that felt natural, not learned. But in presence.
Animals avoided him with instinctive caution. Wind moved differently around him. Rain seemed to pause before touching him, as if the world itself acknowledged something sleeping inside him.
He continued cultivating, progressing at a speed no normal child could dream of. His foundation deepened, his qi thickened, and his senses sharpened until he could map the entire forest in his mind with a single breath.
But cultivation was not the only thing changing.
Strange dreams began visiting him.
He stood atop a grand palace made of violet stone.
He walked through a golden hall filled with kneeling warriors.
He looked into a mirror and saw a face older, regal, familiar.
He always woke up before the dream could finish.
The System remained silent about the dreams, but Shen Tian felt something shifting within him—the first hints that his past was more than just a vague instinct.
One night, after a particularly vivid dream of an enormous throne hall, the System unexpectedly spoke.
"Path progression accelerating. Host approaching breakthrough threshold."
He felt it immediately. His qi surged, swirling through his body like an ocean breaking free from its chains. He settled into lotus position without hesitation, guiding the flow.
Hours passed.
Lightning cracked through the sky—not natural lightning, but qi-induced resonance.
The ancient oak trembled.
The air vibrated.
And Shen Tian stepped into the Golden Core Realm.
He opened his eyes slowly.
Power throbbed in every breath.
At ten years old, he had become a cultivator that entire sects would kill to recruit