The Tree That Dreamed of Light

Chapter 1

The night was heavy with darkness, cloaked in thick, swirling clouds that devoured every speck of light. Amidst this oppressive blackness, an unexpected shimmer glimmered in a distant, secluded mountain range. Upon closer inspection, it revealed itself to be a delicate willow branch — the kind reminiscent of the graceful trees often seen in parks. The fresh green tendrils danced gently, their leaves sparkling like polished jade, radiating a soft, inviting glow.
These whispered questions echoed softly, as if a patient were just waking from surgery, murmuring without a soul in sight to hear them. The only response came from the gentle swaying of the willow branch in the night air.
Sir Alaric, an avid explorer of fantastical tales, had fallen asleep, only to awaken in bewilderment to find himself transformed into a willow tree. Thousands of slender limbs cascaded downwards, mimicking a waterfall, while its crown spread wide, the bark fractured in intriguing patterns. This was not just any willow — it was the highly sought-after ornamental species known for its beauty.
Sir Alaric couldn’t help but feel a blend of absurdity and resignation about his peculiar resurrection as a tree. He had read of such occurrences in novels, yet to be living it himself? His mind spun with the strangeness of it all. At least, as an orphan, he mused, no one would grieve his absence in this world.
With a shrug of his internal shoulders, Sir Alaric decided not to dwell too much on his new reality. Being alive, even as an immobile willow, was a blessing abundant enough to savor. He resolved to focus on the now; after all, life itself was enough of a gift.
But here lay the paradox — his circumstances felt like the divine treatment usually reserved for protagonists in tales of adventure. Was this a sign that he was destined to be a hero? His expectations were modest; all he desired was a powerful "golden finger" to navigate this unusual existence.
After a thorough internal examination, he noticed something extraordinary. One tendril, glowing with a soothing white light, stood out luminously against the veil of night. It was unlike any other of his three thousand branches, and it appeared almost sentient. He realized he could control it just as one would their own limbs.
With a thought, the ethereal branch obeyed Sir Alaric’s command, moving gracefully through the air, shaping itself into various forms with remarkable dexterity. He extended it, bringing it to his own field of vision.
In a heartbeat, a translucent screen materialized before him, displaying:
**[Species: Ancestral Weeping Willow (Space Willow Bloodline 0.01%)]**
**[Evolution Points: 0.5 (Ways to gain: Absorb sunlight, moonlight, and extract essence from life forms to refine and earn evolution points)]**
**[One Mutated Tendril]**
Ancestral Space Willow.
That certainly sounded impressive! Sir Alaric mused on the significance of his willow lineage. “Space Willow,” the very term sounded like the title of a legend — where time and space were merely tools for the strong. If he could harness this power and evolve, his days might stretch luxuriously ahead.
But the burning question remained: was his awakening as a tree merely a quirk of fate, or was it a testament to the existence of gods and supernatural beings in this world?
“Hold it together, Alaric,” he whispered, realizing his tenuous state. He was rooted here in the Valley of Shadows, unable to move. If deities truly walked among mortals, he pondered, did that make him a valuable resource, akin to a mystical root bound to powerful forces that could either take advantage of or protect him?
Weren’t legendary roots always guarded by natural barriers or savage beasts? Yet, he saw nothing in his immediate surroundings — perhaps he was too weak at this moment to perceive or sense any threats or guardians.
“Enough idle musings,” he decided, shaking off the heavy thoughts. Focusing on absorbing sunlight and moonlight to amass evolution points seemed like a far more constructive pursuit. Strengthening himself felt like a crucial first step; at the very least, it would offer some assurance against the unknown.
Then an intriguing thought struck him: within his very center lay a statue he had discovered earlier on Curio Street. Could it be tied to his current predicament? With newfound purpose, Sir Alaric tried to draw near to it, hoping for clarity from the mysterious object at the heart of his transformation.

Chapter 2

As the statue transformed into a glowing orb of light, Sir Alaric felt his consciousness merge with its essence. Instantly, countless arcane symbols burst into his mind, accompanied by vivid imagery. Within this chaotic expanse, he beheld a colossal tree stretching over eight hundred million feet, shimmering with iridescent light. Its trunk divided into 129,600 branches, a celestial alignment hinting at an age of 12,960,000,000 years. Each branch draped three thousand willow-like tendrils, intertwining with the vastness of existence.
In the midst of this den of chaos, an axe suddenly struck, cleaving the mighty tree nearly in half. The once-grand structure now had fewer than three thousand branches, visibly stripped bare. As the scene shifted, Alaric witnessed the tree piercing the fabric of reality itself, causing one of its tendrils to snap away, morphing into a statue of a willow—vanishing into the void.
What a remarkable legacy left behind by Elder Yang the Wise as he transcended the bounds of the elemental realm, seeking a higher order of enlightenment in chaos. This extraordinary vision contained not just memories, but also the mystical techniques, including “The Infinite Tome,” a method capable of instilling powers that could elevate one to the realm of the grand immortals. Yet, much of this knowledge was obfuscated, leaving only the foundation for reaching the state of golden enlightenment.
Furthermore, this statue bore the inherited lineage of the Willow Sage, explaining Alaric’s own natural connection to this ancient bloodline. Even though complete integration with this lineage felt like a distant dream, he knew he was already miles ahead of most, with the right teachings at his fingertips.
Determined to escape peril and refine his skills swiftly, Alaric whispered an incantation, summoning the cosmic balance of the heavens—light and dark intertwined, uniting heaven and earth. As celestial energies converged with his essence, the world around him began to shimmer. Moonlight filtered down, enveloping the fragile willow tree, an otherworldly aura bathing it as if it were dancing gently in the breeze, full of enchanting mysteries.
In this ethereal glow, every creature in the Nine Realms, even Alaric himself in this nascent stage of his journey, sought to draw upon the soothing warmth of the moon's radiance to embark on their path of cultivation. No matter how insignificant, every being could partake of the moon's benevolence, which selflessly offered its nurturing light, allowing all forms of life to blossom, irrespective of their birthplace or lineage.
Beneath the moonlight’s nurturing embrace, life flourished, and Alaric felt a surge of gratitude. The sun's harsh rays could lead to desolation, while the moon brought about rebirth. As the moon waxed and waned, it gifted the world its wisdom, spreading enlightenment like the flow of a great river nourishing the lands.
Through this revelation under the supernatural moon, Sir Alaric's journey had just begun, and his mind danced with the possibilities that lay ahead.

Chapter 3

Under the glow of the moonlight, Sir Alaric spent the night absorbing its ethereal energy, lost in a rhythmic dance of breath. As dawn approached and daylight began to break, the moon finally bowed out to the sun, bringing with it the warmth of the day.
With the first rays of sunlight spilling across the horizon, a myriads of subtle, royal purple mist streaked across the sky, bursting forth along with the bright, sweeping beams of light that rent the darkness.
As fast as the light moved, so did the purple mist.
In the moment that this potent energy emerged, Sir Alaric perceived no other sounds. The world dissolved around him as he urgently channeled the energy coursing through his body like a flowing river.
Aura pulsed and thrummed around him, sending waves of uncanny rhythm into the stillness of the Valley of Shadows. The atmosphere felt strangely profound, a mystical resonance that defied clear articulation. Gradually, a sliver of that purple mist descended from above, a gentle gift pulled into his very being, warming him like a gentle breeze kissing the tips of emerald leaves.
The session of cultivation came to a close, for daytime only provided the softer energy flow of the initial rays, the gentlest form of sunlight. Any attempt to absorb the more intense solar energy would surely result in self-immolation – a danger even a tree, now encompassed in its newfound existence, could not dare to face. After all, while photosynthesis is an observation of sunlight, it doesn’t equate to absorbing its blistering rays, a lesson clearly outlined in his training. Sir Alaric had no intention of experiencing that fiery demise; he was far too attached to his own life.
After a night of devoted practice, he felt significantly fortified; both his trunk and branches had taken on a new strength.
With a mental trigger, he propelled a mutated branch out vigorously towards the open air.
“Crack!”
The sound exploded like thunder, startling him. Instantly, Sir Alaric watched as a white shockwave sliced through the atmosphere.
The wave was short, spanning merely three or four meters – yet the force he had exerted had conjured such a pressure wave.
‘What power!’
If such force landed against a person unawares, it would certainly spell disaster. After all, the act had created a sonic boom; soundwaves are a concept not unfamiliar in modern society.
With that realization, he recognized that he possessed some measure of lethal potential, and it wasn’t as inconsequential as he’d initially supposed.
He gazed at the branch, swaying freely under the sun, and felt an unexpected wave of emotion. Initially, he had believed that becoming a tree meant his days would be spent passively observing the world around him, watching from this modest plot in the Valley of Shadows.
To his surprise, within just one night, he had acquired not only the revered cultivation technique of the sages but also a newfound power for self-preservation. Truly, the heavens were fair; although he had become a tree, they provided him an opportunity to attain transcendence.
Even as he contemplated this revelation, an annoying buzzing sound broke his thoughts. Don’t question why a tree could even hear — he had cultivated to an extraordinary degree.
He was situated in a valley abundant with wildflowers, where throughout daylight, busy bees flitted about, droning all day, causing quite the distraction.
This valley was around three or four hundred meters wide, and perhaps seven or eight meters tall. Just how tall the trees surrounding him rose, he couldn’t exactly say, but at this moment his own height registered around only three or four meters, dwarfed by others that surrounded him.
Yet, possessing awareness and the ability to cultivate his spirit allowed him this scope— a three-hundred-sixty-degree perspective. A strange sensation, no doubt; his previous humanity felt wholly different from this. It was akin to a radar, letting him observe everything without barriers.
But were these trees mutated? How could they be so tall? He marveled at the towering trees, many large enough that a human could hardly embrace their trunks.

Chapter 4

Feeling the indescribable essence in the air, Sir Alaric distinctly sensed a warm current flowing into his branches. It was a sensation reminiscent of absorbing the essence of the sun and moon during his training—exceedingly pleasant.
So, this must be the legendary spirit essence. After last night's meditation, he noted that his evolutionary points had reached six, sufficient to enhance the remaining willow branches. As Sir Alaric infused his evolutionary points into six of the willow branches, the newly mutated ones, along with the original, glowed brilliantly, a splendid sight indeed. However, it was still daytime, and they weren’t nearly as radiant as they had been at night. For Sir Alaric, who was currently struggling to survive, it was perhaps best that there weren’t any remarkable phenomena.
With each successful enhancement of the new branches, Sir Alaric felt stronger surges of power coursing through them. Looking up, he noticed that the enhanced branches not only shone with brilliance but also looked more verdant, and the leaves shimmered in vibrant shades of green, exuding a delightful fragrance.
"Whoosh!"
A gust of energy surged forth, sending six green willow whips slicing through the air, followed by their sonic booms echoing throughout the Valley of Shadows.
As he observed the seven willow branches swaying in the breeze, Sir Alaric felt a thrill. One branch had already sent chills down his spine; now with seven, just imagining the sight was breathtaking beyond words.
He had to remind himself that he had three thousand branches. Just think—if he enhanced them all, it was an unfathomable prospect. He resolved to set a modest goal first: to enhance all three thousand branches. At that point, he could consider himself a true tree spirit.
Time was of no consequence when it came to cultivation. Just like that, half a month had passed. Within the Valley of Shadows stood a towering willow tree, thirty meters high, standing taller and prouder than its companions.
While the valley was rich with trees, this willow stood out distinctly. It was immediately noticeable due to its three thousand branches, gently swaying in the breeze, sometimes cascading down and at times dancing like ethereal spirits, each willow branch a shimmering waterfall of green.
The willow paused for a moment, then—
"Whoosh."
Three thousand branches launched towards a singular target, the air around them swirling. But even with such overwhelming movement, the branches halted in front of a massive iron tree, barely half a meter away. Although the branches did not touch the trunk, the sheer force of the enhanced willows viciously battered the surface, creating a gaping cavity several meters wide, clearly exposing the inside of the tree trunk behind it.
After half a month of hard training and points invested into evolution, Sir Alaric had grown to a remarkable thirty meters, and his branches had extended to over ten meters. It was a powerful move indeed, and he felt a surge of joy as Sir Alaric began to conjure a cunning strategy in his mind. As a tree, he was unable to move. He could only defend his territory.
If a strong enemy approached, he could use the length of his willows to provide them a stern lesson, and if necessary, his air cannon could give a powerful blow.
If threats emerged from a distance, he could also hurl stones, maintaining power and penetrating capability exceeding that of bullets.
Most importantly, in these past weeks, he discovered something incredible—it was possible that this world resembled Earth from his former life, as he had witnessed airplanes soaring above the Valley of Shadows. Which meant, at the very least, this was indeed a modernized world.

Chapter 5

As Sir Alaric gazed at the towering trees surrounding him, his mind wandered back to the last two weeks. In just half a month, he had grown to an astonishing height of over one hundred feet. Although his rapid growth was attributed to his rigorous training, the other trees around him hadn’t shared in that same fate. They, too, had reached impressive heights, suggesting that he might not be on his home planet, Earth, as he had once thought.
In his past life, Alaric had never encountered willow trees that towered like the ones here. He pondered if these trees were capable of developing awareness like he had, absorbing the world’s essence directly for their growth. The thought struck him: if they were as conscious and evolved as he was, it would present a captivating parallel universe he had yet to explore.
Moreover, Alaric had noticed subtle changes among the small creatures inhabiting his domain. Unlike the dramatic transformations of the plants, these animals seemed to evolve at a slower pace, their agility appearing enhanced. They ran quicker, jumped farther, and exhibited a livelier demeanor than before.
Since he had declared his territory through bloodshed, fewer animals dared to venture near. However, their contributions to the natural balance around him were invaluable. The mere essence of starlight and moonlight he absorbed could never have fortified his willow grove without the life force contributed by the wildlife.
Still, Sir Alaric wasn’t a monster who thrived on stealing innocent lives for the sake of his own transformation. He understood that the unaware creatures were just that—mere animals—while those with intelligence held a different kind of life worth preserving.
Suddenly, a flurry of chirping broke his reverie. Alaric looked up to spot a new nest nestled amid his branches, cradling a little lark. Its feathers were a warm chestnut color, with subtle brown accents and striking black stripes. The lark’s condition was dire; its wings bore the marks of a struggle, yet its eyes sparkled with an indomitable will to survive.
Reflecting on the day before, he recalled how he had blasted away the towering trees blocking his view of the sky. In his haste, a small lark had been inadvertently dislodged from its perch and landed right on his canopy. At first, Alaric had planned to consume the small creature for more evolution points, but then he felt an unexpected pang of empathy upon witnessing the lark’s fear and desire for life.
Understanding the potential this lark held intrigued him even further. In this age of evolution and mutation, creatures were remarkably adapting and transforming back to primal states. This little lark, now showing signs of intelligence, could evolve into something magnificent—becoming a loyal companion or even a guardian spirit. Imagine the possibilities!
Alaric felt a rush of excitement; if luck were on his side, this little fledgling might become his trusted aide, making him far more adept at navigating the skies. It could certainly turn out to be worth taking the time to nurture, even if it never grew to the heights he imagined.
With a gentle touch, he rolled a seed from one of his fruits, dripping with dew from his leaves, and guided it to the lark’s beak. “Hang in there, little one.”
At that moment, he began to stroke the young lark with the flexible twigs of his branches. In a surprising twist, the lark seemed to understand that its survival depended on Alaric. It relaxed under his caress, occasionally closing its eyes, almost as if it were enjoying the attention from its new protector.
As Sir Alaric settled into this unexpected routine, he couldn’t shake a looming sense of danger. Even as a sense of calm enveloped his domain, the valley beyond teemed with untold stories waiting to unfold.
“Thud. Thud.”

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