26 July, 2020.
Dark Haven Fortress, late afternoon.
The training ground lay quiet under the golden haze of a setting sun. Sweat still cooled on brows as the family rested on woven mats, breathing steady, bodies loose from hours of practicing the Mortal Foundation Scripture. Muscles hummed with the deep, grounded strength it had forged over months of relentless discipline.
Ankit approached silently, footsteps soft on the packed earth. He stopped before them, expression gentle.
"Mom, Dad, Sanya," he began, voice calm yet carrying a quiet weight. "Your foundations are solid now—stronger. So I want to ask… when are you going to begin true cultivation?"
He paused, letting the words settle.
"I can guide you fully now. Before, my own strength wasn't enough to guarantee your safety through the process. But that's changed. I can help you—completely, safely."
His divine sense, vast and refined after the Nexus Unification, brushed lightly over them—not intruding, merely confirming what he already knew. Their bodies were tempered to near-perfection by mortal means: meridians naturally aligned, bones dense as jade, blood rich and vibrant. The Mortal Foundation Scripture had elevated them far beyond ordinary mortals, turning baseline humans into above-genius vessels ready for essence.
Their innate talent? He would discover that soon enough. But with this foundation, even average aptitude would bloom brilliantly under his guidance.
Sanya's eyes widened instantly. The eleven-year-old sprang to her feet, practically bouncing as she rushed to stand in front of him, staring up with shining hope.
"Brother! Really? You're not joking, right?"
Ankit smiled faintly, meeting her gaze. "Really really. But listen carefully—cultivation is not a game. It demands focus, patience, endurance. A single lapse can wound the meridians, cripple the core, or worse. I would never have suggested it if you hadn't mastered the Mortal Foundation Scripture first."
He glanced meaningfully at Sanya. Children her age typically scattered their attention like leaves in wind—dangerous when guiding essence through delicate pathways. But the scripture had honed her will, sharpened her concentration to a degree rare even among adult.
Sanya nodded vigorously, lips pressed together in determination.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but their father, Kamal, raised a thoughtful hand.
"There's something I need to understand first," he said evenly. "If we begin cultivation now… won't the benefits of the Mortal Foundation Scripture weaken dramatically? I've felt how profoundly it strengthens us each day. Once essence circuits form, that effect drops to perhaps five percent, doesn't it?"
Ankit inclined his head. "Yes. That's true."
Kamal frowned slightly. "Then won't it limit our future potential? We'll have gained immense benefits early, only to lose most of them the moment we step onto the cultivation path. It feels like trading an irreplaceable advantage for longevity."
Ankit's voice remained steady, reassuring.
"Longevity alone would already compensate—thousands, tens of thousands of years to cultivate and grow. But more importantly… I will not let you be limited."
He met his father's eyes directly.
"With my guidance, you will break through any bottleneck caused by the scripture's diminishing returns. You will not be held back—not by this, not by anything."
A quiet moment passed.
Kamal studied his son's face—calm, unshakable, carrying a depth that had not been there before the seclusion.
At last, he exhaled slowly and nodded.
"Very well. I trust you."
Ankit's gaze swept over them all—pride and warmth rising in his unified self.
"Then it's decided," Ankit said, satisfaction settling over the garden like soft evening mist.
A small figure suddenly darted from behind a flowering bush, feet pattering across the grass.
Rudra skidded to a stop in front of Ankit, eyes wide and shining with determination.
"I also want to become stronger like brother!" Rudra declared, bursting from behind the bush with tiny fists clenched. "Brother, teach me!"
He had watched, wide-eyed, as his mother, father, and sister effortlessly lifted tons of weight during training—feats far beyond his small arms, which struggled even to budge a single chair. The moment he overheard Ankit speaking of true cultivation and boundless strength, he could not hold back any longer.
Ankit's expression softened. He crouched down, placing a gentle hand on Rudra's head and ruffling the dark hair.
"Rudra, first you have to practice the Mortal Foundation Scripture," he said warmly. "Make your foundation as strong as Mom, Dad, and Sanya's. Only then can you begin true cultivation. Okay?"
Rudra nodded rapidly, head bobbing like an eager bird pecking grain.
"Okay! Teach me that, teach me!"
Ankit laughed lightly, the sound rare and genuine. With a subtle thought, he summoned the Heart Clone from.