The night was colder than usual, or perhaps it only felt that way to Liora. She clutched Veylan tightly, his tiny body warm against her chest. Rhen walked beside her in silence, his steps heavy, his fists clenched at his sides. The village was quiet, but the weight of what had happened at the gathering hung between them like an unseen chain.
Liora's heart ached. Her son, barely days old, had already been marked for hardship. She should have stayed quiet, should have swallowed her anger, but she had let Varian's words get to her. And now, Veylan would have to bear the consequences.
As they reached the small house nestled at the edge of the village, Rhen pushed the door open without a word. Liora stepped inside, adjusting the swaddle around Veylan. The faint glow of a lantern cast shadows on the walls, making the space feel smaller than usual.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Then Liora turned to face Rhen. "Why didn't you stop me?" Her voice trembled, a mix of anger and guilt. "You knew what he was doing. You knew, and you just let it happen."
Rhen's jaw tightened. "If I had stepped in, it would have been worse." His voice was low, weary.
"Would it?" Liora challenged, her grip on Veylan tightening. "Our son is a newborn, Rhen. A newborn, and he's already been dragged into this mess."
Rhen exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You think I don't know that?" His eyes, usually calm, burned with frustration. "You think I don't regret every damn choice that led us here?"
Liora bit her lip, fighting back the sting of tears. She wasn't truly angry at Rhen—she was angry at herself, at Varian, at the clan that had forced them into this situation. "Then what do we do?" she whispered. "We can't change what's been done. So what now?"
Rhen was silent for a long moment. Then he stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We have thirteen years."
Liora blinked. "Thirteen years?"
"Before the ceremonial test," Rhen said. His voice was steadier now, resolute. "That's how long we have to make sure he's ready."
Liora looked down at Veylan, at his tiny fingers curled into fists. He was so small, so unaware of the storm that awaited him. "Ten years…" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rhen nodded. "I'll train him. When the time comes, he won't just survive—he'll surpass them all."
Liora wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. But fear gnawed at her. "He's just a baby, Rhen. What if… what if it's too much?"
Rhen's eyes darkened. "Then we make sure it isn't."
A long silence followed. Liora let out a slow breath and nodded. They had no other choice. No matter the cost, they would make sure Veylan would not suffer for their sins.
They moved into their bed, exhaustion weighing on them. Liora lay down with Veylan nestled in the crook of her arm, his soft breaths steady against her skin. Rhen sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought.
And with that, the night stretched on, their unspoken worries lingering even as they drifted into slumber. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the promise of the trials yet to come.
🔱 — ✵ — 🔱
A strange sensation pulled Veylan from his slumber.
At first, it was faint—a distant tingling, like a soft ripple beneath his skin. His tiny fingers curled reflexively, but the feeling didn't fade. Instead, it grew, spreading through his limbs in slow, creeping waves.
His eyelids fluttered open. The room was dim, moonlight barely seeping through the wooden walls. His parents' steady breathing filled the silence, their presence reassuring, yet distant. He was alone with the strange sensation coursing through him.
At first, he thought it was nothing—just an odd feeling, something natural for a newborn body. But then, the tingling sharpened. It wasn't exactly pain, but a dull, deep pressure, like something was pressing outward from within him.
His brows twitched slightly. What… is this?
A slow, rhythmic pulse followed—his chest, his arms, even his bones felt as if they were subtly shifting. His body wasn't supposed to feel this way. He was just a baby, barely able to move properly, yet right now… it was like something inside him was alive, stirring, changing.
His fingers twitched again. He felt—lighter. It was barely noticeable, but there. His breathing seemed steadier, his limbs less heavy. His hearing, still muffled compared to his past life, picked up the soft rustling of leaves outside.
Did I always hear this well?
The sensation didn't stop. If anything, it became more pronounced—a faint throbbing that seemed to pulse with his heartbeat. And then, just for a moment, he swore he felt something… flowing. Not blood, not warmth, but something else. Something unknown.
It should have frightened him. But it didn't.
Instead, he lay there, unmoving, trying to make sense of what was happening. A normal baby wouldn't understand. Wouldn't notice these tiny changes, this subtle shift. But he did.
His body was changing.
Was this normal?
His mind raced through possibilities, but without knowledge of this world's rules, he had no way to be sure. Perhaps this was simply how things worked here. Perhaps all children experienced this—this quiet, unseen growth in the dead of night.
His thoughts drifted to the stories he had once read on Earth. Cultivation, strengthening the body, breaking human limits… could this be something like that?
No. He dismissed the thought. He knew too little. There was no point in making wild guesses.
For now, all he could do was endure the sensation and wait.
The discomfort slowly faded, the pulsing growing weaker. His body still felt a little different, but the change wasn't drastic. Just a small shift. A tiny step forward.
He exhaled, relaxing. Whatever this was, it had passed.
His eyes drifted shut once more. Sleep took him, his mind filled with quiet curiosity about the world he had been born into.
And somewhere deep within him, something continued to stir.
🔱 — ✵ — 🔱
Morning came in peaceful stillness, the golden light filtering through the wooden shutters, making soft patterns on the little room. Rhen woke up first, his years of training waking him up early as ever. He rolled his head a little, his eyes falling on his wife and their child.
Liora slept soundly, her arms wrapped around Veylan. The baby was tucked close, his tiny chest moving gently up and down in a rhythmic pattern. But something was… off.
At first, He thought it was a trick of the morning light. But as he watched, the faintest shimmer of movement surrounded his son.
Rhen's eyebrows creased. A tingling unfamiliar sensation fluttered at the periphery of his awareness—something weak, something not of this world. His instincts snapped to life, and he locked eyes on Veylan.
It was subtle, almost invisible, but the air surrounding the baby appeared to quiver. Strands of energy—tenuous as wisps of fog—tumbled about him in a gentle dance before disappearing. As if the planet itself reacted to his presence, the baby was nourished by unseen forces.
Rhen's breath caught. His body tensed.
This… this is Qi absorption.
His heartbeat quickened. He watched in stunned silence, his keen eyes tracking the faint movement of energy. It wasn't chaotic or forced. It was smooth, natural—effortless.
Impossible.
At that moment, Liora stirred beside him. Noticing his expression, she blinked groggily before following his gaze.
"What is it?" she murmured, voice thick with sleep. But then, as her eyes adjusted, she saw it too—the faint shimmer in the air, the way the energy seemed to coil around their child. Her breath hitched.
"Rhen…" Her voice trembled. "Is that—?"
He nodded slowly, confirming what she had already guessed.
"He's cultivating."
Silence fell between them. Liora's mind reeled, her hands instinctively tightening around their son. "That… that can't be," she whispered, shaking her head. "He's barely a few days old! Even Heaven-blessed prodigies don't begin until at least five! Most children don't even start refining their bodies until seven or eight!"
Rhen's jaw clenched, his thoughts racing. He had seen many geniuses in his lifetime—monstrous talents that defied logic. But this? This was unheard of. A newborn drawing in Qi without guidance, without technique…
"This shouldn't be possible…" Liora's voice barely reached him, her tone laced with disbelief.
Rhen took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself. His excitement was overshadowed by something more pressing—danger.
He turned to Liora, his expression darkening. "We can't let anyone know about this."
Liora snapped her head toward him. "What? But why? This is incredible! If the clan knew—"
"That's exactly why we must keep it hidden," Rhen cut in sharply. "Think, Liora. If others learn about this, what do you think will happen?"
Liora faltered, her mind racing through possibilities. Then it hit her.
Envy. Fear. Greed.
Something like this would shake the clan to its core. No—beyond that. If word spread, Varian and his underlings would take notice. That man already saw Rhen and his family as a stain on his rule. If he found out about this…
Liora's hands clenched. She could already imagine the consequences. Varian wouldn't allow such a monstrous talent to exist outside his control. If he didn't try to seize Veylan for himself, he would ensure that their son never had the chance to grow into a threat.
She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling cold despite the morning sun.
Rhen exhaled slowly, his sharp gaze never leaving his son. "We'll keep it a secret. At least until the ceremony. By then, we'll have a better grasp of his situation."
Liora hesitated, but deep down, she knew he was right. With great talent came great risk. And Veylan… he was beyond anything they had ever imagined.
She looked down at their son, still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the storm he had just created.
With a quiet nod, she whispered, "Alright. We'll keep it between us."
Rhen gave her a firm look before glancing back at Veylan.
A newborn who could cultivate.
He didn't know what it meant for their son's future.
But he knew one thing for certain.
And from this moment, the path ahead was no longer theirs to control.