Chương 24: Walking Alone

"If you want to walk quickly, walk with friends. If you want to walk far, walk alone." Leon repeated the sentence silently as he lay on the rough barracks bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above him. Looking back, he realized he had understood that concept subconsciously all the way back then—long before this world, long before cultivation, and long before the Universal Vessel. Even as a child, he had already started walking that path.

————————— During his first grade of primary school, the excitement of discovering anime, games, movies, and stories about heroes had slowly changed into something else: research. At first, everything had been simple; watching superhero cartoons, reading fantasy novels, and searching online for how to get superpowers, use magic, or become a superhero. But as the months passed, the answers became repetitive and disappointing, with everything pointing toward the same conclusion.

Superpowers were not real, the world operated according to strict laws, magic did not exist, humans could not fly, and people could not shoot energy blasts. The internet repeated these conclusions endlessly. And yet, Leon looked at the world around him. Every day, he heard news about disasters. Floods, earthquakes, crimes, and wars left people suffering and dying. Even as a child, a simple thought would occasionally appear in his mind: If I had powers, I could help. That thought reignited everything.

If the world needed heroes, then heroes had to exist, and if they did not exist, then someone would have to become one. That was around the time Leon stopped talking about it. He stopped talking about superheroes, stopped explaining his research, and stopped sharing discoveries. Whenever someone asked what he did after school, he gave the same brief answers.

"Nothing."

"What are you reading?"

"Just random stuff."

"What do you want to become?"

"I haven't decided." It wasn't because people were cruel; most were not. His relatives smiled, friends laughed lightly, and adults patted his head, telling him he would grow out of it, that it was just imagination, and that dreams were nice. Nobody meant harm, but Leon understood an important truth: doubt was contagious. The moment you believe something is impossible, your chances of achieving it become zero. It was a simple equation.

If you truly thought a dream could never happen, then no amount of effort would follow, no sacrifice would be made, no risks would be taken, and no path would ever be walked. You cannot endure suffering for something you believe is impossible. You cannot sacrifice sleep, happiness, comfort, and time with people you love for nothing. You cannot willingly walk through hell if you expect only emptiness at the end.

The pain, loneliness, frustration, and pressure could not be tolerated unless, somewhere deep inside, you believed that one day you would succeed. Belief was not a guarantee of victory, but without belief, victory was impossible. That thought quietly settled into his heart. Without realizing it, Leon had already started following the law of individuality.

The more unusual the goal became, the fewer people could walk alongside him, so he stopped seeking approval, stopped explaining, stopped arguing, and simply continued.

"Remember this," his childish voice had whispered to himself back then.

"Every time someone tries to make you doubt yourself. Doubt kills dreams. Belief gives them a chance." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. ————————— His research accelerated. At school, he studied normally, but at home, he studied differently. Biology became his latest obsession; if humans could not become superheroes through magic, perhaps the answer lay in the body itself.

He started reading textbooks far beyond his age, covering human anatomy, muscles, nerves, the brain, sleep, hormones, animals, adaptation, mutations, genetics, evolution, regeneration, venom, neural systems, photosynthesis, and cellular repair. He progressed rapidly, eventually reaching material that students would only encounter years later in high school. And then, while reading about marine mammals, he found something fascinating that made him freeze: dolphins.

Some dolphins could sleep with only half of their brain at a time—one hemisphere rested while the other remained awake. Leon stared at the screen for a long time. If humans could learn this, research time would double, maybe triple. Imagine having sixteen hours a day for more reading, more searching, and more progress. For several days, he attempted to imitate it through meditation, sleeping in strange positions, and trying to focus with one eye closed, but nothing worked. Humans, unfortunately, were not dolphins.

It was a disappointing discovery, but disappointment had become familiar by then. It no longer stopped him; it merely redirected him. The bigger problem was information, as he was running out. General searches all pointed toward the same dead end: superpowers do not exist, magic is fiction, and there is no evidence or proof. Every road ended there until a new, simple thought appeared. If I discovered a method to gain superpowers, would I tell everyone? Leon thought about it seriously. No, of course not.

If something was valuable enough, people would hide it, protect it, and monopolize it. That meant one possibility remained—the information existed, but it was simply hidden, and hidden information required hidden places. The internet, vast as it was, suddenly seemed shallow like a public library; it was useful, but limited. So Leon searched for the closest thing to a secret library and eventually stumbled upon a strange term: the Deep Web.

The articles describing it resonated with him—information not indexed by normal search engines, private networks, hidden websites, special access methods, and dangerous, secret places. To a child obsessed with finding forbidden knowledge, it sounded exactly like what he had been looking for. Of course, accessing it safely required understanding computers, which meant another detour into IP addresses, networks, tracking, security, encryption, VPNs, browsers, and somehow, programming.

He had not intended to learn coding; it simply happened while walking toward another goal. One skill led to another, and one answer opened ten more questions. A pattern that would repeat many times throughout his life. Leon smiled faintly at the memory. Many people called that distraction, but he called it exploration.

By the time first grade ended, he had learned far more than he originally intended: biology, computer security, basic programming, networking, research methods, speed reading, stealth, and fake sleeping. And now, he stood before the entrance to another unknown world: the Deep Web—a hidden library, or perhaps another dead end. Either way, Leon intended to look because by then, he already understood that if your destination lies somewhere no one has ever reached, then eventually, you must learn to walk alone.

————————— Back in the present, Leon slowly opened his eyes. Outside the barracks window, the twin moons hung high in the sky. Tomorrow, their hunting teams would separate, and their paths would slowly diverge toward different beasts, different compatibilities, and different futures. That was natural; everyone walked their own road. Beside him, Ethan snored quietly, Davis had somehow kicked his blanket onto the floor, and Miller muttered something incomprehensible in his sleep.

Leon looked at them for a moment, then smiled softly. Walking far did not mean rejecting companionship; it simply meant understanding that some steps could only be taken by you. And for now, he was glad he did not have to walk entirely alone.