C3 Mysterious Space

In the blink of an eye, sixteen years had slipped by.

Sixteen years, a span of time that could be considered neither particularly long nor especially short.

Yet, in the grand scheme of things, these sixteen years had not made the slightest dent in the cosmic order.

Even in the most humble corners of the universe, sixteen years merely marked the period it takes for a child to reach adulthood. What planetary dynasty or even a galactic empire didn't have a history spanning thousands of years?

This was but one unremarkable realm among Earth's myriad dimensions, largely unknown and inaccessible to most.

With Earth lacking a ruler and the human realm in disarray, no one had taken the time to govern these numerous spaces. Many had been claimed by others, including some of the most renowned and powerful beings. For them, not every matter required strict attention.

Despite the presence of the Law Enforcement Alliance, they extended considerable leniency to these formidable individuals.

The Alliance's jurisdiction primarily covered worlds inhabited by mortals, with their focus on the starry sky and the ten provinces.

Yet, the ten provinces were the ultimate destination for ascension from these myriad spaces, attracting an unimaginable number of powerful beings. The sheer volume of forces, both large and small, was endless. Even with the considerable influence of the Law Enforcement Alliance, there were forces that could rival it in strength.

Leaving aside the complexities of the ten provinces, the space before us was modest, even bordering on the mundane.

However, each breath taken here was infused with the essence of nature's fragrance.

A vast lake lay at the heart of this space, flanked on three sides by undulating mountain ranges, with ancient trees casting their reflections upon the water's surface.

These ancient trees, colossal by any standard outside, were commonplace amidst these peaks.

Beneath the trees, a variety of flowers and plants emitted enchanting scents that tempted one to devour them whole, roots and all. The mere aroma was intoxicating enough to give the sensation of spiritual ascension, to say nothing of the effects of consuming them.

Beneath the massive leaves, gaps revealed a tapestry of vibrant colors. Peering through these colors, one could see fruits the size of infants, exuding delightful fragrances.

Occasionally, golden shadows leapt among the towering trees, accompanied by soft "squeaks."

The golden monkeys were few in number, but each one radiated an air of distinction.

Their eyes sparkled with desire as they gazed at the fruits the size of infants, but they dared not reach for them. Even the mischievous ones who attempted to pluck the fruits were repelled by an odd energy.

Despite their agility, these monkeys would lose their balance and tumble from the trees.

These spiritual fruits were not to be picked on a whim.

Not even the rare 'Golden-Striped Monkey' from the outside world could manage it.

Even after falling, they would simply dust themselves off and bound back up the trees, sitting obediently. Clearly accustomed to this, the mere scent of the spiritual fruits and herbs was greatly beneficial to them.

Schools of fish swam in the lake, where a hundred-foot-long black shadow glided through the depths, barely visible.

On the lake's eastern shore stood ten modest houses.

Only two of these homes had lights flickering dimly. One was a sprawling hundred-meter-long residence, while the other was small and charming.

In the latter, a blue-haired, blue-eyed youth sat cross-legged in a bathtub set in the hall.

The water, bitter with the scent of medicinal herbs, gradually cleared to reveal a mysterious, fragrant hue.

This was no ordinary lake water; it contained a dragon, streamlined and a hundred feet long, with four claws and antler-like horns. Its only flaw was that it was a black dragon, not the revered divine dragon.

The dragon clan esteemed the divine dragon above all, followed by black, white, and silver dragons, and then other True Dragons. Like serpents with horns and claws, they were born to soar through clouds and navigate waters.

As the saying goes, "A mountain is not renowned for its height, but for its immortal; water is not revered for its depth, but for its dragon."

The blue-haired youth emerged from the bath once the spiritual water had completely cleared. Draping his robe around him, he stepped out of the quaint house and strolled towards the larger residence at the head of the lake, passing eight other uniquely colored homes.

Some were rugged, others delicate, some exuded a fresh scent, while others were tinged with the smell of blood.

These were the residences of his eight senior martial siblings. Aside from his sixth senior brother, who took the form of a black dragon and was often at the master's side, and the second senior brother, who occasionally returned to fish, he hadn't seen the others in sixteen years.

His sixth senior brother had told him that they were all renowned in their respective fields and that he would gradually meet them over time.

Standing before the foremost house, the young man gazed at its modest exterior. Inside lived an elder who had been his companion for sixteen years, teaching him literacy, scholarship, and understanding of the world. The old man would often regale him with tales of past heroes and imparted even the most basic worldly knowledge.

He spoke of the various philosophers, the eternal struggle between good and evil, and the Ten Ancestors of the Human World...

The house stretched long, its walls adorned with portraits of various styles, each one vividly capturing the essence of the past powerhouses. They seemed to watch over the blue-haired youth as he made his way deeper into the dwelling.

The youth knew that each of these formidable figures had once truly existed, leaving behind legacies of great renown. Some had perished on battlefields, fighting for the survival of humankind; others met their end through treachery. Yet, most were still alive, having departed from the mortal realm.

They were once the guardians of the human world, known collectively as "the philosophers."

In a small room deep within the house, an elderly man sat holding a teacup, savoring the richly aromatic tea as he watched the blue-haired youth approach through the corridor. His face was lined with age, yet he wore a gentle, benevolent smile. "Mortal, you come of age tomorrow, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," replied the young man known as Fan Er, respectfully taking a seat on a small stool before the elder.

These days had become a blur to him; they had been his routine for as long as he could remember. Every three days, he endured a grueling medicinal bath, and he spent the rest of his time, save for those baths and necessary rest, absorbing the teachings of the old man.

Behind the elder, a bookcase held ancient tomes rare to the outside world. Since learning to read, the young man had delved into more than half of these precious volumes.

The young man sensed a change in the elder's tone and gaze, as if he were looking upon a child about to embark on a long journey. Anxiety welled up within the youth.

The elder had mentored many and bestowed kindness upon countless individuals. Yet, he had withdrawn from the martial world years ago, choosing to live in seclusion amidst the tranquility of lakes and mountains. His legend, it seemed, had faded from the martial world.

Each day, the elder was the picture of serenity, chanting scriptures, savoring fragrant tea, and nurturing his youngest disciple. His companions were the modest wooden house, the verdant landscape, and the Sixth Disciple who glided through the lake waters.

"Your Second Senior Brother will return tomorrow," the elder said, his voice rich with the weight of years, as if echoing from an ancient era. "He will take you from this place. You are still young, and it's time for you to experience the martial world. This old man no longer requires your company."

"Master..." The young man felt a pang of sadness and reluctance to part, yet he struggled to find the words. The elder's decisions were never open to challenge.

The young man had met his Second Senior Brother only twice before. The brother appeared even older than the elder, with snow-white hair and a constant companion in his fishing rod. Each visit was brief; he would simply greet the master and then settle by the lake to fish in silence.

Curiously, the young man had noticed that his Second Senior Brother fished without bait. When he was younger and less informed, he had tried to correct him, but the brother merely smiled and continued his fishing, an enigmatic figure.

It was from the Sixth Disciple that the young man learned he had been brought to this place sixteen years prior by his Second Senior Brother.

"Your Second Senior Brother will reveal your origins," the elder spoke slowly. "The Second Elder will guide you to the starry sky, the cradle of martial arts. He will tell you more tomorrow. When you leave, there's no need for farewells."

With lips tightly drawn and eyes brimming with emotion, the young man stood tall before the elder. He knelt with a thud, bowing deeply thrice, his forehead bruising with the effort. His gaze lingered on the elder, as if to imprint his visage forever in memory. Then, turning resolutely, he strode toward the door and out into his future.

Today marked the end of his monotonous academic journey, yet the young man found no joy in its conclusion.

The elder's once vacant eyes sparkled with a divine light as he watched the departing youth. A mix of unspeakable loneliness and reluctance swirled in the depths of his gaze. He had witnessed the young man's growth from birth, a bond seldom felt in his many years.

Despite his wisdom and usual stoic demeanor, he was human after all—a solitary elder. Letting go so his son could soar was a necessary sacrifice, but it did little to ease his struggle for composure.

At his level, such emotions were fleeting, vanishing as quickly as they appeared, leaving his eyes as still and profound as an ancient well. An old string of prayer beads materialized in his left hand, which he caressed gently while murmuring words too soft to discern.

As the young man vanished from view, a formidable figure clad in black emerged from behind the elder's cabinet. His hair stood erect like that of an enraged lion, and his eyes radiated boundless pride, akin to an emperor surveying the world from a mountain peak or a primordial beast revealing its majesty.

Yet, when his gaze settled on the elder, all traces of arrogance dissolved into unspeakable reverence. This was his mentor, his father. His transformation from a minnow to his current stature owed much to his master's influence.

A voice as resonant as clashing metal, laced with untamed ferocity, broke the silence. "Second Brother is too indolent. Should I accompany Old Nine instead?"

The elder shook his head. There were reasons for entrusting the child to Second Brother. If Old Sixth were to take charge, his ruthless nature might conquer realms, but what of the child's own trials?

Murmuring six indistinct tones, the elder filled the shadowy room with a glow reminiscent of a Buddha's chant. In response, the menacing aura surrounding the man in black dissipated like smoke.