Morning's gentle light found Yinmo returning from his clandestine training in the wild forest, still riding the quiet thrill of his breakthrough. Strolling among the herb fields, he noticed subtle signs of nature's approval: a tangle of vines parted unexpectedly before him and fragile blooms shuddered into form at the edges of barren patches. Even so, a restless anxiety gnawed at him. The recent success with Incantatio Viriditas had propelled him closer to the second stage of Qi gathering, yet he knew his path would be fraught with dangers beyond mere whispering winds.
Later that afternoon, seeking a secluded glade for further practice, Yinmo set off into the dense thicket beneath ancient trees. His cherished cultivation booklet clutched firmly to his chest, he stepped into a clearing that had become his temporary sanctuary. The forest here was alive with possibility—a realm where his incantations could mingle freely with the vibrant energy of nature. Today, he planned to push beyond his recent success; he intended to refine his command over the wood element.
Before he could issue the complete incantation, a sudden rustling in the undergrowth shattered the customary calm. Out from the shadows lunged a low-ranking magical beast—a scrappy, feral creature known among the servants as Twigfang. Its small, wiry frame belied vicious intent, and before Yinmo could fully articulate his spell, the beast charged straight into his path.
In that crucial, split-second moment, Yinmo's practiced incantation faltered. He had begun to utter:
"Lignum Excitare…"
but the desperate clamor of danger forced him to abandon his full recitation. Instead, he instinctively chose the portion he had already mastered—a fragment that called forth the elongation of wood. Almost immediately, a branch from a nearby sapling hearkened to his incomplete command, stretching itself out like a green, sinewy hand from the earth.
Without a moment's hesitation, Yinmo leaped onto the branch and began climbing up the tree, his heart pounding as the creature's snarls echoing in the clearing. Twigfang, undeterred, barreled after him. With dangerous speed, the lowly beast pinioned the space below, intent on pinning down the fugitive mage.
High in the tree's embrace, Yinmo's breath came in ragged gasps. He knew that to truly repel his attacker, he had to seize control of his incantation before the beast could close the gap. Drawing strength from the residue of his fear and the determination that had driven him beyond his lowly status, he steadied himself. Clutching the cultivation booklet and summoning every reserve of focus, he resumed his incantation in full voice:
"Lignum Excitare,
Vita Redintegro,
Tenebrae Contineo—
Evigilo!"
The full articulation of the spell ignited a transformation in his surroundings. Not only did a brilliant surge of green energy illuminate from Yinmo's outstretched palms, but the tree itself responded in kind: new branches erupted in rapid growth, and delicate but robust stems and flowers burst forth, twisting into serpentine vines. These newly sprung extensions whirled magically, slapping and entangling the persistent Twigfang. The creature, caught unprepared for the sudden onslaught of verdant fury, was lashed repeatedly by the animate thorns and twisting vines until it scampered back into the murky forest depths.
Heart pounding with a mixture of triumph and lingering adrenaline, Yinmo clung to the trunk, trying to steady his racing thoughts. The spell—half graceful and half improvised under duress—had saved him. Yet its faltering completion, forced by the beast's ferocity, laid bare a truth he could no longer ignore: the wood element he so lovingly nurtured was unsuited for the instantaneous demands of combat. The gap between nature's gentle growth and the frantic, predatory speed of an attacker was stark.
As Yinmo caught his breath, a chill of realization seeped through him. He shuddered at the thought that if such a low-ranking magical beast, Twigfang, could so abruptly disrupt his incantations, what might become of him when confronted by foes far deadlier? Moreover, the betrayal he felt—stemming from the twisted alignments within his clan, especially the treachery of the twins and the degrading ambitions of Big Brother Lei—tightened his resolve. His purpose was twofold: first, to harness and improve his wood element until it could serve both for growth and for retribution against those who had once scorned him, particularly Feng Tao for his venomous insults regarding his father; second, and perhaps more urgently, he recognized a dark possibility. The prospect of learning dark magic—a realm as forbidden as it was dangerous—begged to be explored in order to protect himself and secure a means of escape should his enemies, even his unyielding uncle, decide to silence him for good.
In that quiet moment atop the ancient tree, Yinmo's mind churned with plans and fears. The disjointed burst of his incantation had revealed his inherent limitations. The wood element, while life-affirming and gentle, lacked the immediacy needed to fend off unexpected, swift attacks. And yet, the potential for a fusion—an integration of vital wood energy with the raw, oppressive power of darkness—was a tantalizing possibility that promised both defense and the strength for vengeance. But how does one begin to tread the abyss of dark magic when its very practitioners were shrouded in secrecy, and its knowledge was barred to those like him?
Yinmo resolved that his journey must embrace both fronts. He would further refine his control of the wood element—even as its limitations became apparent—while secretly seeking the hidden pathways toward dark magic. Perhaps, in time, he could forge a spell that blended the two, a veritable sword of life and shadow able to protect him from all who wished him harm.
With the memory of Twigfang's thwarted onslaught still fresh in his mind and his heart alight with both fear and defiance, Yinmo descended from the tree. Each cautious step back toward the manor felt new and determined. The shards of his incantation, the whispered promise of dark magic, and the burning desire for revenge coalesced into a solitary vow: no matter the cost, he would transform his perceived weakness into a weapon too formidable for those who had forsaken him.
As twilight faded into a deep night, Yinmo concealed the cultivation booklet beneath his cloak and slipped silently into the shadows. His journey into true mastery had just begun—and with it, the seeds of rebellion were firmly planted, destined to reshape the cruel hierarchy of his world.