Ye Chen lost count of his failures. The sun rose from the east, climbed to its zenith, and slowly descended toward the west. His clothes were soaked through with sweat, his lips cracked from thirst, but he never gave up.
Finally, as dusk approached, he succeeded.
It was a chance "capture"—a tiny fluctuation happened to appear directly in the path of his consciousness. Instead of grabbing at it, he let his awareness merge with the fluctuation.
In an instant, a trickle of energy flowed into his Lingyuan.
It was so small it was almost imperceptible. But Ye Chen felt it, unmistakably—his Lingyuan had grown, just a little.
"Ha…" He couldn't help laughing. "Hahaha…"
His laughter echoed through the valley, startling a few roosting birds.
Ye Chen lay back on the fallen leaves, gazing at the sunset-reddened sky, feeling a sense of fulfillment he had never experienced before—stronger even than when he had published papers in top journals.
Because he knew he had found a path.
A path no one had ever walked before.
In the days that followed, Ye Chen became obsessed. Every day before dawn, he went to the mountains, not returning until dark.
Lin Wanqing grew deeply worried and tried several times to follow him, but Ye Chen always refused, saying he "needed to be alone." Ye Haoran said nothing, only watching his son with a complicated expression, occasionally asking, "How's it going?"
"Not bad," Ye Chen replied each time.
He knew his father noticed something. After all, Ye Haoran had once been a Heaven-grade Lingyuan Master. Though his Lingyuan was destroyed, his insight remained. A six-year-old child going alone into the mountains every day—that was not the behavior of a "useless" child.
But Ye Haoran didn't press.
Perhaps out of trust, perhaps because he didn't want to add pressure. Or perhaps he, too, was waiting for something.
Days passed, and Ye Chen's cultivation slowly improved.
He discovered that the method of "capturing" energy from the void was actually quite inefficient. An entire day's work yielded only a thread of energy. But that didn't matter—what mattered was that his Lingyuan reserves were growing, slowly but steadily.
After one month, he could maintain Time Perception for three seconds.
After two months, five seconds.
After three months, ten seconds.
Meanwhile, his Spatial Perception improved as well. He could not only "see" the space around him but could faintly perceive the "folds" in space—tiny distortions caused by the mass of objects, completely undetectable to ordinary people.
"If I could use these folds…" Ye Chen mused.
An idea began to take shape in his mind—if he could fold space, theoretically he could achieve teleportation. Though with his current Lingyuan reserves, this was still a distant dream, the direction was clear.
Besides cultivation, Ye Chen was doing something else: learning.
He devoured every book he could find in the house—from basic Lingyuan theory to the continent's history and geography, from the cultivation characteristics of the great families to the ecological distribution of spirit beasts. He read them all, one by one.
The study habits from his past life served him well. He took notes, drew diagrams, formulated formulas, using scientific methods to understand the rules of this world.
Gradually, his understanding of this world sharpened.
The Yuanling Continent was vast, divided into five regions: East, South, West, North, and Central. The Central Empire lay at the continent's heart, the cradle of civilization. The four cardinal regions were guarded by four great families—the Luo family of the Northern Icefield, the Bai family of the Southern Wind Domain, the Shi family of the Western Earth Region, and the Qin family of the Eastern Light Territory. Each family possessed Lingyuan Grandmasters of unfathomable power.
And the continent's most prestigious academy was the Sky Academy, located within the Central Empire.
It was said that Sky Academy accepted only the most gifted students, with an acceptance rate of less than one percent. Yet every graduate became a renowned master of the continent. The academy's headmaster, Yun Tianxing, was known as the "Strongest Master of the Continent," his power having long surpassed the realm of Lingyuan Grandmaster into legendary territory.
"Sky Academy…" Ye Chen murmured the name.
He knew that was where he needed to go.
Not because he would learn much there—given his situation, the academy likely had no cultivation methods suited for the Space-Time attribute either. But because that was where the strongest masters gathered, where the richest resources lay, where the grandest stage awaited. Only there could he touch the true secrets of this world.
But would Sky Academy accept a student with a "useless attribute"?
"They will," Ye Chen told himself. "As long as I can prove myself."
One evening, as Ye Chen returned from the mountains as usual, he found an unfamiliar carriage parked outside his house.
The carriage was plain, but the two horses drawing it were exceptionally spirited, their coats sleek and glossy—clearly not animals an ordinary family could afford. Beside the carriage stood a middle-aged man, well-dressed and deferential, evidently a servant from some prominent household.
Ye Chen's heart stirred. He quickened his pace.
Pushing open the door, he saw an unfamiliar elder sitting in the main hall, speaking with his father. The elder had graying hair, a thin, refined face, and wore a faded blue robe that looked unremarkable. But his eyes—those eyes were extraordinarily bright, as if they could see straight into a person's soul.
"Chen'er, come here." Ye Haoran beckoned him over. "This is…"
"This old man's surname is Zhou. I am an admissions officer from Sky Academy." The elder spoke first, his tone calm. "You are Ye Chen?"
Ye Chen nodded.
Elder Zhou looked him up and down, his gaze appraising. "I heard you awakened the Space-Time attribute."
"Yes."
"The Space-Time attribute, a once-in-a-century phenomenon." Elder Zhou's tone was ambiguous—neither praise nor mockery. "In Sky Academy's records, it has appeared only once in a thousand years. That one… went on to become one of the continent's greatest Lingyuan Masters."
Ye Haoran and Lin Wanqing both stiffened, hope flickering in their eyes.
But Elder Zhou's next words poured cold water on their hopes: "However, that one's success came not from the attribute itself, but from his own efforts. The Space-Time attribute is the most difficult of all to cultivate. In a thousand years, only that one reached the end."
He looked at Ye Chen, his expression growing serious. "I have not come to enroll you—with your current strength, you are not yet qualified. I am here to deliver a message on behalf of another."
"What message?" Ye Chen asked.
"In three months, Sky Academy will hold a selection examination in Qingshi City. There is no entry barrier—anyone may participate. But the examination will be combat."
Elder Zhou paused, then spoke slowly, emphasizing each word: "If you can prove yourself in this examination, the gates of the academy will open for you. But if you cannot even pass the first round…"
He left the sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear.
Ye Chen fell silent.
Though he had made some progress, his Lingyuan reserves were still far inferior to those of other children his age. Combat? He had never truly fought anyone.
"I understand." Ye Chen raised his head, his gaze calm but resolute. "In three months, I will be there."
Elder Zhou studied him, something flickering in his eyes. He said no more, rising to take his leave.
After the carriage departed, Lin Wanqing looked at her son with concern. "Chen'er, do you really have to go?"
"Yes."
"But… you're only six, and those people…"
"Mother." Ye Chen interrupted her, his voice soft but unyielding. "I am not afraid of being mocked. I am not afraid of failing. What I fear is spending my whole life trapped in this small city, never knowing how far I can go."
Ye Haoran had remained silent throughout. Now, looking at his son's eyes, he suddenly smiled.
It was a smile Ye Chen had never seen on his father's face before—not bitter, not self-mocking, but a genuine smile, one of pride.
"Go," Ye Haoran said, patting his son's shoulder. "You are stronger than your father ever was."
Ye Chen was momentarily startled, then smiled as well.
Outside, darkness was deepening. But in that small room, a flame was quietly kindling.
The flame of hope.