The crimson dawn broke over the Stormforge Continent like spilled blood across ancient stone, casting long shadows through the ornate windows of the Hao Dynasty's imperial palace. In the Eastern Tower, where the scent of aged parchment mingled with morning incense, fifteen-year-old Hao Ren sat surrounded by towering stacks of leather-bound tomes and weathered scrolls.
Today marked more than just another sunrise in the year 340—it was the day he would officially begin his cultivation journey.
"Another dead end," Hao Ren muttered, closing yet another cultivation manual that abruptly terminated its discussion at the Soul Transformation realm. He rubbed his tired eyes and reached for the next scroll, a supposedly ancient text his tutors had reluctantly allowed him to study. "Every single record, every historical account... it's like someone took a blade to our entire civilization's memory."
The morning light illuminated his sharp, intelligent features—a face that combined his father's scholarly elegance with traces of his mother's ethereal beauty. His long black hair fell past his shoulders, bound with a simple silver cord that marked his status as an imperial heir who had not yet begun cultivation.
"Young master," came a gentle voice from the doorway. Hao Ren looked up to see Elder Wei, the palace's head librarian and his longtime tutor, bowing respectfully. The elderly man's robes rustled as he stepped into the study, his weathered hands carrying a steaming cup of spirit tea. "His Majesty requests your presence in the Throne Hall. The awakening ceremony awaits."
"Elder Wei," Hao Ren said, accepting the tea gratefully, "before we go... you've served three generations of our family. In all your years managing the imperial archives, have you ever found any complete records of cultivation beyond the Soul Transformation realm?"
The old scholar's eyes flickered with something that might have been fear before settling into practiced neutrality. "Young master, some knowledge is lost to time. Wars destroy libraries, floods ruin scrolls, and sometimes..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes it is better that certain knowledge remains buried."
"But that's just it," Hao Ren pressed, setting down his cup with enough force to make it ring against the wooden table. "It's not randomly lost. Every gap appears in exactly the same place, every record stops at exactly the same point. That's not natural degradation—that's systematic destruction."
Elder Wei's hands trembled slightly as he began organizing scrolls that didn't need organizing. "Young master, there are those who believe that the limits we face are... intentional. Placed there by powers beyond our understanding. But such thoughts are dangerous. They lead to questions that have no safe answers."
"What if I'm not interested in safe answers?"
"Then," Elder Wei said quietly, meeting his eyes with surprising intensity, "you had better become very strong very quickly, because the kind of people who erase knowledge from entire civilizations do not appreciate those who seek to restore it."
The cryptic warning sent a chill down Hao Ren's spine, but before he could pursue the matter further, the sound of armored footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. A palace guard appeared in the doorway, his face flushed from running.
"Young Prince," the guard said breathlessly, "the Emperor grows impatient. The assembled court awaits your presence."
As they walked through the palace corridors, Hao Ren's reflection caught in the polished marble walls—tall for his age, carrying himself with the unconscious confidence of one born to rule. The palace servants they passed bowed respectfully, but he noticed more than a few worried expressions. Word of unusual spiritual phenomena across the continent had been trickling in for days, and everyone seemed to sense that something momentous was approaching.
"Elder Wei," Hao Ren said as they climbed the grand staircase toward the throne hall, "what do you know about bloodline inheritances? The really ancient ones, from before the historical records become... incomplete?"
"I know that they were once common among powerful families," the librarian replied carefully. "Divine beast bloodlines, elemental affinities, spiritual constitutions that allowed for techniques beyond normal human limitations. But such inheritances have been... dormant... for many generations."
"Dormant, or suppressed?"
Elder Wei stopped walking entirely. "Young master, that is exactly the kind of question I was warning you about."
The massive doors of the Throne Hall loomed before them, carved with intricate scenes of dragons soaring through clouds and warriors battling impossible odds. Two guards in ceremonial armor pushed the doors open, revealing the vast chamber beyond.
The Throne Hall stretched before them like a cathedral of power, its vaulted ceiling painted with scenes of his grandfather's legendary battles against the corrupt Meng Dynasty. Pillars of white jade supported the roof, each one carved with protective formations that hummed with barely contained energy. At the far end, upon the Dragon Throne carved from a single piece of midnight jade, sat Emperor Hao Lanyang—his father.
Unlike the typical image of cultivation world rulers, Hao Lanyang possessed a scholarly elegance rather than overwhelming martial presence. At the Core Formation realm, he was far from the strongest cultivator in the empire, yet his piercing intellect and strategic mind had earned him the unwavering loyalty of both commoners and nobles. His dark robes were embroidered with silver dragons, and a circlet of platinum rested on his brow—simple symbols of authority that somehow commanded more respect than the most elaborate crown.
Beside the throne stood Hao Ren's mother, Empress Tiansha Cho. Even in formal court robes, she radiated an otherworldly grace that spoke of her mysterious origins. Her pale blue dress seemed to flow like water even when she stood perfectly still, and her long silver hair was adorned with ornaments that appeared to be carved from frozen moonlight. The sole survivor of the Tiansha Clan's destruction by the Squid Demon King twenty years ago, she carried herself with the quiet dignity of one who had lost everything yet found love in the ashes.
The assembled court filled the hall—ministers in elaborate robes, generals in polished armor, and representatives from the various noble families that helped govern the empire. All eyes turned to Hao Ren as he approached the throne, and he felt the weight of their expectations settling on his shoulders like a physical burden.
"Ren'er," his father said, using the affectionate diminutive that reminded everyone present that beneath the imperial facade lay a loving family. His voice carried easily through the vast hall, trained by years of addressing large gatherings. "Are you ready to take your first step into the cultivation world?"