The devastation in the garden had barely settled when Yan Kuangshen opened his abyssal eyes. Though he still appeared as a two-year-old child, every movement radiated precision, control, and the raw authority of someone who had seen life and death countless times. The air around him hummed with the residual energy of the absorbed Soul Severing Talisman, now fully integrated into his dantian—a reservoir of power beyond comprehension.
Yan Tianhuo crouched beside his son, his weathered hands gently resting on Kuangshen's shoulders. "My boy," he said softly, "what you just did… no one in the Northern Wastes has ever seen such an awakening in one so young. It is time, finally, to begin your formal cultivation."
Kuangshen tilted his head slightly, studying his father with the piercing clarity that only a soul reborn with experience could possess. "I know," he replied, his voice calm yet unnervingly commanding. "But… Father, is this all there is to strength? Are we merely to grow our power like a tree grows branches, blind to the storms that will tear it apart?"
Yan Tianhuo's brow furrowed, impressed. Few mortals—or even immortals—questioned the nature of cultivation, let alone at the age of two. "You are already thinking beyond your age," he said. "That is a beginning, but you must understand: raw strength is meaningless without control, discipline, and insight. The Primordial Chaos Physique will guide you, but you must walk the path yourself."
Mei Xueling approached, her delicate hand brushing against Kuangshen's snow-white hair. "My precious son," she said, her voice like falling snow, "your body is a vessel for the heavens themselves. Void Dragon blood flows within you, but even the mightiest dragon must first learn to soar. Let us guide you, and you will surpass everything this world has ever known."
Kuangshen closed his eyes, feeling the waves of power flowing through his body. Each meridian was a river of energy, each dantian a sun igniting the sky. Even at two years old, he could feel the gaps in his cultivation, the potential for growth that even the elders could not fathom. He understood instinctively that the Primordial Chaos Physique was not just a body—it was a universe within, a canvas upon which he could sculpt absolute mastery over life, death, and reality itself.
"You will begin with the Foundations of Heaven," Yan Tianhuo instructed. "It is the simplest stage, yet the most crucial. Many cultivators spend decades perfecting it, and many fail. But I know you…" His gaze softened, a rare vulnerability touching his otherwise stoic features. "You will not fail."
Kuangshen nodded, then, to the astonishment of the attending servants and instructors, rose to his feet with the balance and grace of a seasoned martial artist. He planted his tiny hands on the floor, and in a single motion, meditated. Yet this meditation was unlike any seen before: the air shimmered, colors bending and twisting around his form as though reality itself paused to witness his awakening.
Hours passed like minutes, yet the child's progress was staggering. The foundational exercises of qi circulation and energy compression were executed with flawless precision. Each movement was not learned, but remembered—a gift of his reborn consciousness. By the time the sun began to sink beyond the Northern Wastes' jagged horizon, the aura of Kuangshen had solidified into something terrifyingly majestic: a two-year-old who carried the weight of legends.
But even in the quiet aftermath of his meditation, Kuangshen's instincts remained razor-sharp. The Shadow Moon Sect had been humbled today, but they were not gone. He could feel the lingering traces of malice, the subtle manipulations of those who sought to destroy the Yan family. His eyes narrowed, the black voids within them swallowing the faint light of the evening.
"They will come again," he said softly to himself, almost a whisper. "And next time… I will not merely stop them. I will consume them, root and branch."
Yan Tianhuo and Mei Xueling exchanged a glance, a mixture of pride and caution passing between them. Their son was no ordinary prodigy—he was an entity of chaos incarnate, a child whose path would redefine what it meant to cultivate, to fight, to live.
As night fell, the stars above seemed to shiver, each one recognizing the presence of the Primordial Chaos Heir. The world had already begun to shift under his awakening, and the first tremors of legend were spreading through the Northern Wastes like wildfire.
In the quiet halls of the Yan estate, Kuangshen sat alone, meditating under the moonlight. The power within him pulsed like a heartbeat, a rhythm that resonated with both this world and the distant memories of another life.
Strength is never enough, he thought, recalling the failures of Marcus Chen, the man he had once been. But control, insight, and the hunger for evolution… these will make me eternal.
Somewhere in the distance, a shadow moved. A whisper of malice carried on the wind—a reminder that the Shadow Moon Sect had not yet forgotten their failure, and that the Primordial Chaos Heir's journey had only just begun.
And with that, Yan Kuangshen closed his eyes once more, a tiny smile playing across his lips. The child might be small, but the storm that would sweep across the continent had already begun.