The grand halls of the Supreme Pontiff Palace were unlike anything Oscar had ever known.
Golden pillars stretched toward painted ceilings. Jade lamps burned with eternal flame, banishing all shadows. Disciples and attendants in white robes moved in orderly silence, bowing deeply whenever Bibi Dong passed.
To a child who had once slept on cold stone beneath a ruined chapel, the palace seemed like another world.
But Oscar never gawked.
He walked with small but steady steps at Bibi Dong's side, his face calm, his eyes sharp, drinking in every detail without a word. That composure unsettled the elders more than childish wonder ever could.
The news of his adoption spread like wildfire.
The Supreme Pontiff has taken a son.
No one expected it. For years, Bibi Dong had buried herself in Spirit Hall's affairs, never showing the slightest hint of maternal warmth. To suddenly declare a boy her heir—it was unthinkable.
Many whispered behind closed doors. Some believed she had gone mad. Others thought the boy was merely a pawn, destined to be discarded. A few suspected that he carried some hidden power.
But regardless of their opinions, none dared voice defiance openly.
And so, the young Oscar became a ghost of rumor and speculation, a name carried on lips across the continent.
His chambers were luxurious by any standard—silken sheets, carved furniture, shelves lined with books, even a small courtyard garden where spirit herbs grew.
Bibi Dong herself oversaw his tutors: etiquette, history, mathematics, cultivation theory.
At night, she sometimes visited, sitting with him in quiet conversation. The world knew her as cold and ruthless, but in those moments she revealed a softer side. She would ask him about his studies, his thoughts, even what he dreamed of.
Oscar answered simply, without exaggeration, without pretending to please her. He admitted when he did not understand something, but when he spoke of what he did grasp, his clarity was startling.
And in return, she listened.
It was an odd relationship, not quite the playfulness of ordinary mother and son, but something deeper—a bond of mutual recognition.
Of course, not everyone in Spirit Hall accepted him.
One evening, when he was returning from a lesson, a group of older disciples blocked his way. Their leader, a boy perhaps three years older, smirked with arrogance.
"So you're the Supreme Pontiff's little pet," he sneered. "Do you think you can just walk these halls because she says so?"
Oscar regarded them silently. His eyes didn't waver.
The older boy scowled at the lack of fear. "What, nothing to say? Maybe you need us to teach you your place."
The disciples moved closer, their intent obvious.
But before they could act, Oscar finally spoke.
"Do you really believe," his voice was quiet but steady, "that harming me would make you stronger?"
The words struck them like cold water. They froze, exchanging uneasy glances.
Oscar stepped forward, passing through their midst without hesitation.
"I won't remember your names," he added softly. "But if you continue, someone else will."
The implication was clear.
Bibi Dong.
The disciples retreated, unsettled.
Oscar walked on calmly, but that night, when he sat alone in his courtyard, something stirred inside him.
[Balance System initializing…]
The voice was faint, like a whisper in the back of his mind.
Oscar's body stiffened, but he remained calm, listening.
[Welcome, Host. This system is bound to your soul. Function: Balance. Purpose: to optimize, evolve, and maintain harmony between your martial spirits, cultivation, and destiny.]
Words flickered across his mind like flowing script.
[Current Status: Spirit Power – Unawakened. Martial Spirits – dormant. Potential: immeasurable.]
[First task generated.]
Task: Maintain composure under trial.
Reward: System synchronization + 1 Balance Point.
Oscar exhaled slowly.
So this was the strange presence he had always felt—something waiting inside him, silent until now.
He accepted it without fear, without panic. It was not in his nature to resist what could not be resisted. Instead, he studied it, analyzing calmly.
A system that sought balance. That… suited him.
Days turned into months.
Oscar's routine was strict but steady. Study, training, cultivation exercises. He moved with the discipline of someone far older, rarely complaining, never throwing tantrums.
The tutors often found themselves unsettled.
"He doesn't act like a child," one whispered.
"He learns too quickly," another muttered.
Even the elders who doubted him began to waver when they saw how he carried himself.
But not everyone was convinced. Some within the upper council still viewed him as a threat to their own influence. Whispers of plots began to circulate in the shadows of the palace.
Bibi Dong noticed.
And her protection of Oscar grew fiercer.
"Anyone who dares touch him," she said coldly in a meeting, her eyes sweeping the chamber, "dares defy me."
No one spoke after that.
One night, as Oscar sat in meditation, the Balance System whispered again.
[Task complete. Reward: Synchronization + 1 Balance Point.]
[System function unlocked: Status Screen.]
Information unfurled before his inner sight:
Name: Oscar
Age: 6
Spirit Power: Rank 0
Martial Spirits: Dormant
Balance Points: 1
Oscar studied it in silence.
Balance Points. A currency, perhaps, to strengthen himself, to harmonize his martial spirits once they awakened.
The thought stirred no greed, only curiosity.
Slowly, he smiled.
This path would not be ordinary.
Meanwhile, in another corner of the continent, a boy named Tang San began his own childhood, training secretly under Tang Sect principles while preparing to awaken his spirit.
Two children, born in the same year, walking two paths destined to cross.
But for now, Oscar sat quietly beneath the moonlight in Spirit Hall's palace gardens, the reflection of the stars glinting in his calm eyes.
The world thought him just a child.
But deep within, the Balance System pulsed.
And the Dragon God slumbered.
The first threads of destiny had begun to weave.