The Awakening of the Dao Flame
The sky was still dark when Dao Zun sat under the ancient Bodhi tree, eyes closed, heart silent.
But inside him, a storm had already begun.
From the deepest part of his soul, a flame slowly rose. It was not made of fire. It was made of truth. It burned his doubts, his fears, his anger. One by one, the emotions melted, like snow in sunlight.
He remembered his past—
How the village had feared him.
How the gods had ignored him.
How he had cried alone… with no one to hear.
But now, the flame inside him said, "You are not weak. You are not lost. You are the path itself."
Suddenly, his body shivered.
Golden lines appeared on his skin—like glowing veins. They moved with rhythm, with life. The Dao Flame had awakened. It was the sign of the true cultivator. The one chosen to walk the path between good and evil, between human and divine.
Dao Zun opened his eyes.
They were no longer the eyes of a human.
They were deep, endless… like the sky before creation.
From that moment, the world would remember one name—
Dao Zun.