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3.

  I woke again shortly, disturbed by a cacophony of annoying voices . Many people had gathered to see me. One of them, my father I guessed, took me from my mother’s arms and introduced to all these unfamiliar people . They were humans, but different from the people of my previous life, shorter and with darker skin. I had a nagging feeling that I hadn’t been reborn on the same planet. Who knows if I’ll ever have the chance to revisit my old world?

  I decided then that in this life I would follow the path of energy cultivation and reach its peak. Nothing will stand in my path because I will have absolute power. For later though, right now I was busy being a baby.

  The first three years of my life passed in a calm, almost monotonous manner. I spent my early days learning the language around me like every baby does, gathering words and sounds and stitching their meaning together. Unlike other babies though, I was aware of memories of my previous life. This strange experience of having old recollections mingled with the new left me feeling trapped, as if I was a prisoner in my own body. On top of that I was unable to touch on the Dao, Every attempt resulted in a fog descending upon my mind preventing me from accessing that higher knowledge, as if looking at the world through a layer of blurred glass.

  Despite my internal struggles, my parents remained a constant source of care and affection even as I grew increasingly different from other children. I soon developed a reserved personality, driven by the secret of my past life, for who would welcome a child filled with memories of an old geezer. I rarely cried or engaged in useless play. Instead, I was absorbed by curiosity, spending hours studying the world around me.

  My parents named me Skolar which I found hilarious, but also fitting to my old purpose as a scholar of life. As I lay in my small bed, I couldn’t help but imagine I might live up to that name one day. Skolar the Immortal Scholar.

  By my third birthday, I felt ready. Under the curious gaze of my father, Ryuru, I looked up and declared

  “Father, I want to become a ki cultivator.” His eyes widened in surprise, but said nothing in reply. My hopes were crushed, though I should have expected it, to the world, I was just a toddler , who would take my request seriously? I in for a surprise that evening though.

  as the family gathered around a warmly lit dinner table, the conversation took on a hushed tone. My father repeated my unusual request to my mother, Akoto.

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  “Do you know what our son asked today? He wants to become a cultivator.”

  My mother’s eyes sparkled, “Really, my little Skolar? And where on earth did you hear about such things?”

  I crafted a lie on the spot, “I overheard some people at the market when we walked together last time. They were saying that becoming a cultivator would allow one to live a life free from worry. I want that too, a free life without care.” My parents exchanged, approving glances as if I were the embodiment of all their hopes.

  “My love, this is a sign. At such a young age our sons dreams are so great. You know, my junior brother in the army is involved in some discipline training—training in ki techniques even for younger boys. Perhaps he might consider guiding Skolar on this path?”

  After a brief, thoughtful pause, my father continued, “Skolar, if this truly is the path you wish to explore, we, your parents, will support you. Akoto, please send a message tomorrow morning to invite my brother over for dinner.”

  Two days later my uncle arrived at our home. He was burly man with an unruly beard and a laugh that sounded like a deep drumbeat.

  My parents greeted him warmly, “How are things with you, young brother? Are you being well cared for in the army?” After exchanging a few minutes of polite conversation, they finally shifted thei attention to the real issue at hand, my request to begin training in ki cultivation.

  “Little boy,” he said, lowering himself slightly to my level, “You’ve grown so big already. What is all this talk about becoming a cultivator? You think you have it in you to walk the path of an Immortal. Many greater than I had tried and failed!“

  Mustering all my determination I boldly proclaimed in my child voice, “Yes, I want to become a cultivator, I am ready!”. I was desperate to break free from those imprisoning seals preventing me from touching the Dao. I was ready for any challenge.

  “Such a cute and lively boy,“ my uncle laughed loudly. Although my uncle admitted that he knew little about cultivation himself, he recalled that the training for young boys in the army began at the age of seven. “You’re too young for formal training, but you can start by practicing some basic stances at home,” he explained kindly. “I will return periodically to check on your progress.” And so, my journey on the path of cultivation began that very next morning.

  The soft light of dawn, fond me in the back yard of our house, listening intently to my uncle instructions, “Keep your back straight and maintain an appropriate stance—yes, just like that. Now, take a deep breath and hold it. Slowly release, but only halfway, then pause…”. He guided me through the basic ki gathering steps, a challenging posture for my fragile toddler body.

  “How is he doing?“ I could hear my father voice asking. I hadn't even noticed his approach, so deeply absorbed was I in learning cultivation.

  “He is remarkably disciplined, so much so that he understands the instructions well. His body is still fragile due to his youth, and he tires quickly, but his ambition is overwhelming. If he continues with this training, I truly believe he has a chance to unlock the flow of ki. I’ll be back in a month to see how far he has come.”

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