The Seven Realms had always known one truth: the Lu Clan ruled above all. For ten thousand years, its emperors crushed rebellions, shattered invading gods, and burned the names of challengers into ash. Their martial path was unmatched, their bloodline so radiant it was said to carry the light of the heavens themselves.
And at the pinnacle of this era stood Emperor Lu Tianxuan, sovereign of the Seven Realms mighty beyond compare. His palace brimmed with power, his five wives were queens of peerless bloodlines, and his twelve children geniuses of terrifying talent were groomed to inherit eternity itself.
But in the quietest corners of his heart, the emperor loved only one woman.
Not a queen. Not a consort.
A woman of the lower realms.
Her name was lost to history, whispered only by servants with fear. She bore no noble blood at least, not anymore. Her clan, once of celestial origin, had long since fallen into obscurity, their heritage of holy martial arts burned away by betrayal. Yet in her veins ran the remnants of a lineage said to one day birth a leader who would conquer the heavens again.
To her, it was only a bedtime story. A tale she whispered to her young son as fireflies danced in the forest where they lived, far from the suffocating politics of the palace.
Her son's name was Lu Mao.
Unlike his princely brothers, he did not live in golden halls. He lived in a quiet jungle, where spirit deer grazed and mystical waterfalls shimmered like liquid crystal. Each day, the emperor himself would visit in disguise, shedding the mantle of ruler to play with his bastard child. And for a while, peace bloomed.
But peace never lasts.
One year, the emperor did not come. Instead, word spread like wildfire.
The Emperor of Seven Realms was dead.
No heavenly tribulation, no great battle only a sudden, mysterious illness. Before Lu Mao's tears had even dried, the throne was seized by his eldest brother, a son born of a queen. And the first decree of the new emperor was simple:
"Bring me the bastard and his lowly mother. Execute them before the clans."
They came with blades and banners, cultivators in golden armor marching like a tide. Yet the boy's mother did not kneel.
With Lu Mao bound to her back, she fought. Her sleeves tore, her skin bled, but her spirit blazed brighter than the stars. One by one, arrogant cultivators fell to her palm strikes, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"Even a fallen clan can give birth to a lioness," one gasped before he died.
But she was only one against many. Step by step, bloodied and exhausted, she was driven to the edge of the Divine Waterfall a river said to pierce through every realm, its currents endless and merciless.
"Kill the bitch and the brat!" a general roared.
A dragon-shaped palm of energy crashed into her chest, sending her tumbling backward into the roaring abyss. Rocks and jagged cliffs tore at her flesh as she fell, but still she clutched Lu Mao to her chest, whispering through the blood on her lips:
"My son… live. Even if I die, I will protect you… until my last breath…"
Days blurred into nights as they plunged through the unending torrent, their bodies battered, bones shattering against mountains hidden in the mist. Finally, the waterfall spat them out into the lowest realm, where broken mountains stretched endlessly and the sky itself seemed cracked.
Her body had nothing left to give. With one final, trembling breath, she drew a small wooden vessel from her spatial ring. Placing the unconscious boy inside, she kissed his forehead.
"Lu Mao… one day, you will rise. One day, the heavens will bow again."
Her hand released. Her body drifted lifelessly into the current.
The river carried the vessel downstream, until it came to a place where a man crouched behind jagged stones. Beside him lay sacks overflowing with stolen treasures gold, weapons, jewels. His eyes flickered nervously as he listened for pursuers.
And then he saw it.
A small wooden vessel drifting toward him.
Inside, a boy with bloodstained clothes.
His heart clenched. He had two choices.
Ignore the child and protect his treasure…
Or abandon everything and take the boy.
The man cursed under his breath, slamming his fist into the rocks. "Damn it all!"
He kicked the sacks into the river, grabbed the vessel, and pulled the child into his arms.
That night, the legendary thief of the lowest realm gained a son.
And the bastard child of heaven gained a new father.
The boy who would one day walk the God Devouring Martial Path had begun his journey.