The sun had not yet risen over the mist-covered village of Lóngyǔ, yet the world seemed already awake. Birds circled above the valley, their wings slicing the morning haze, while the river below whispered in quiet harmony with the wind. Villagers began their early routines, unaware that the very fate of the world would soon stir within one boy's chest.
Jí Diǎn Yǔ Zhòu sat at the edge of the training grounds, his legs crossed and eyes closed. Even at the tender age of fifteen, his aura was faint, almost invisible to the average cultivator. To the villagers, he was an ordinary boy—timid, quiet, yet with an unexplainable intensity lurking behind his calm demeanor.
"Yǔ Zhòu," called a familiar voice. A girl with fiery eyes and a mischievous grin approached. Her name was Lán Yù, a childhood friend and secret rival in every training exercise. "Stop meditating! Or the river spirits will carry away your courage before you even lift a sword!"
Yǔ Zhòu opened his eyes slowly, the dim light reflecting off the mysterious mark on his palm—a faint, swirling pattern that no one in Lóngyǔ had ever seen before. It pulsed gently, like a heartbeat that belonged to another world entirely.
"I feel… something," he whispered, more to himself than to Lán Yù. "A presence… watching."
Lán Yù tilted her head, frowning. "Don't tell me you've started imagining things again. That mark has been on your hand since birth. No one can explain it, not even the elders."
Yǔ Zhòu clenched his fist. That mark was not a mere birthmark. He had seen it flare once, in secret, during a nightmare when his parents had been gone for the festival of the Crescent Moon. It had burned like fire, and for a moment, he had felt strength—an almost inhuman power—but it had vanished as quickly as it came.
The villagers didn't know that centuries ago, in a forgotten age, there had existed a lineage that wielded the Dark Aura. It was a forbidden power that could rival the heavens themselves. And now, unknowingly, Jí Diǎn Yǔ Zhòu carried the last seed of that lineage within him—a cosmic seed that the heavens themselves wished to eradicate.
The morning peace shattered suddenly. From the sky, a streak of black lightning cut through the clouds, descending upon Lóngyǔ like a harbinger of doom. The villagers screamed, scrambling toward their homes, while birds took flight in a chaotic storm of wings.
Yǔ Zhòu's eyes widened. The mark on his palm flared bright green, then black, then green again—a heartbeat, a warning. Something ancient and dangerous had arrived.
From the jagged peak overlooking the village, a figure emerged. Cloaked in shadows, he moved as though gravity itself feared him. The villagers barely had time to whisper prayers before the figure's aura swept over the valley. It was suffocating, cold, and heavy with a promise of annihilation.
"Who—who are you?" Lán Yù stammered, clutching Yǔ Zhòu's sleeve.
The figure's eyes glowed red beneath the hood. "The Dark Seed stirs… and the world will bleed before it bows."
Yǔ Zhòu felt the air around him thrum. His heartbeat echoed in his ears. He didn't know why, but the words resonated deep within his soul, awakening something long-dormant. The cosmic seed within his spirit core pulsed violently, sending tremors down his spine. He stumbled backward.
The stranger raised a hand. A black aura surged outward like a tidal wave, smashing through the village gates. Roofs splintered, walls crumbled, and screams pierced the morning air. Lán Yù shrieked, holding Yǔ Zhòu as the world descended into chaos.
"Stay back!" Yǔ Zhòu shouted instinctively, though he didn't know why he was shouting. His body moved before his mind could command it. Shadows rose from the ground at his feet, coiling like serpents around his legs and arms. The aura that had always been dormant within him now reached outward, hungry and fierce.
The stranger froze, sensing the awakening. "Impossible…" he whispered. "The Sealed Seed… has awakened!"
Yǔ Zhòu felt power coursing through him in a torrent unlike anything he had known. His small hands glowed with a dark light that twisted and shimmered. In that moment, he realized the truth: he was no ordinary boy, and this was no ordinary attack.
The villagers ran for their lives, their screams echoing in the valley. Yǔ Zhòu raised his hands, instinct guiding him. Shadows shot forward like black arrows, striking the cloaked figure. The man staggered back, his aura faltering for the first time.
Lán Yù gasped. "Yǔ Zhòu… you… you have power!"
"I… I don't understand it!" Yǔ Zhòu shouted. "But I… I will protect us!"
The cloaked figure disappeared in a flash, leaving behind only a scorched crater and the remnants of Lóngyǔ's once-peaceful village. Smoke curled upward, carrying the scent of fear, ash, and loss.
Yǔ Zhòu fell to his knees, his hands trembling. The mark on his palm burned like fire, yet it was not pain—it was a call. A call to something far greater than this quiet village.
He had no time to mourn. From the smoke and debris, he heard the faint whisper of the AI Spirit System—the consciousness embedded in the cosmic seed itself.
"Jí Diǎn Yǔ Zhòu… your destiny awakens. The Dark Aura Lineage is reborn. You will be hunted. You will be desired. And you… will forge your path among gods and demons alike."
The boy's heart raced. His world had ended, but in its place, something far larger had begun. He rose to his feet, eyes blazing with green fire—the same fire that had protected him and his friend moments ago.
"Then I will… rise," he whispered, voice steady despite the terror. "I will not be a victim. I will not be hunted. I will become… the last cultivator of the Dark Aura."
As he spoke, the cosmic seed pulsed again, sending waves of dark energy rippling across the valley. Somewhere in the heavens, distant stars seemed to tremble. Somewhere in the mortal realm, the sects and clans took notice.
The journey of Jí Diǎn Yǔ Zhòu had begun.
And nothing in the world would ever be the same again.