The full shield-moon glowed brightly, showering the Meng clan's manor in a red, blood-splashed light.
A blood moon had appeared—a strange omen to those who understood its meaning.
Inside the main chamber, a baby's cry echoed loudly, rattling the chamber's very core.
Some elders stood unmoving, their faces like stone statues, as if the sound carried no joy at all.
Others lingered at the entrance, their expressions heavy with sorrow, as though staring at the end of something long awaited. They sneered and muttered coldly.
They had hoped for a girl. Instead, another cursed child had been born.
They had long deduced that the curse was more lenient in females.
Some turned away immediately, unwilling to even look further.
The remaining elders gathered around the woman and child, their gazes solemn.
Their ancestors had once defied the heavens, staining the sky with blood. From that day on, the clan carried a curse—passed down through their bloodline.
It deprived the coming generations of talent. No cultivation, no strength, no blessing—only an emptyvessel, doomed to live in weakness. Worse still, misfortune clung to them like a shadow. Disasters followed wherever they went.
The clan had tried to fight back. Long ago, their forefathers created the Heaven Trial—a ritual to lessen the curse. Sometimes it worked, cutting its weight by half. But the price was cruel. Few who entered survived, and those who did often emerged crippled, shattered, or hollowed inside. It was said most survivors later confessed they wished they had died instead.
At the side of the chamber, a man in his late twenties dropped to his knees,a living survivor of the heavens trial. His hands clutched his head, then curled into fists that trembled in agony. Tears streamed down his face.
Meng Han—the father of the child—knew this fate all too well.
Did he really want his son to suffer the same despair? To one day be thrown into the Heaven Trial, surviving only to beg for death?
His heart twisted.
He rose to his feet, his eyes dim, his mind set. He stepped forward, standing over the cradle where the child lay. The baby's hair was black, faintly glistening in the moonlight. He glanced at the exhausted woman lying on the bed, and whispered, voice breaking:
"Yaner… forgive me. I don't want him to live my life of despair. Better it ends now, than he drags the whole clan down with him."
He brought his hand forward to end the child's life peacefully.
But before his hand touched the child—
Bang!
A sudden force threw him across the room. He crashed against the wall, spitting blood, stunned.
It turns out she was hiding her true strength from me all along. Judging from the power she just displayed, her Holy Force might be in the range of the Three Hundred Degrees — a special tier being.
How will I dare assassinate a child in front of someone like this?
His wife was standing, pale and trembling, but her eyes burned with fury.
"I know you think this is mercy. But he is my son—our son. I will not let you decide his fate before he has even opened his eyes to this world."
Meng Han struggled to rise, leaning against the wall. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"You know what this means. He will have no force, no talent, nothing. Misfortune will follow him until he dies. And if the clan forces him into the Heaven Trial… he'll suffer worse than death."
Her eyes softened for just a moment as she looked at the baby, who had fallen asleep again, utterly untouched by the chaos.
"I know," she whispered. "But he is still my child. Even if heaven curses him, I will protect him."
Silence filled the chamber.
Finally, Meng Han exhaled and turned toward the door.
"If that is your choice… then I've done all I can."
Before leaving, he glanced back one last time.
"Yaner… forgive me. After today, you may never forgive me again."
After all, I'm the main cause...
She loved me so much, only to be disappointed again and again.
His heart felt hollow as he stepped past the elders outside, ignoring their questioning stares. He could already imagine her walking away from the Meng clan one day, carrying that child—choosing to protect him, even if it meant leaving everything behind.
Heaven was cruel indeed.