The ancestral hall of the Shen family gleamed with golden chandeliers and towering jade pillars, yet the atmosphere inside was suffocatingly cold. At the center, upon a high throne, sat Patriarch Shen Xing, his face expressionless, his gaze as sharp as a blade. He waited silently, his heart weighed down by the decision he had made.
The heavy doors creaked open. Two guards stepped in, their clothes drenched from the storm outside. Kneeling low, they spoke in trembling voices, "Reporting to Patriarch… the cursed child is no more."
Shen Xing exhaled slowly, a flicker of relief crossing his eyes though his face remained calm. "Good," he said coldly. "From this day forward, the Shen family is free from that burden."
But just as those words left his lips, the doors slammed open once again. Feng Xinyue strode into the hall, her eyes glistening with tears, her expression torn between grief and fury. She had heard everything.
Her voice cracked as she spoke, trembling yet filled with rage. "Shen Xing… you killed him? Our son—my son—you truly had him killed?"
The vast hall fell into complete silence. Even the guards dared not raise their heads.
Shen Xing rose from his throne, his tone steady but ice-cold. "Xinyue, you were there the day he was born. The heavens trembled, the earth quaked. That child is cursed! If I had allowed him to remain, disaster would have fallen upon us all. I did this for the future of our clan—for you, for our other children."
Tears streamed down Feng Xinyue's face, her chest tightening as though pierced by countless blades. Her voice was hoarse, yet it echoed with the pain of a mother. "For the clan? And what of my heart, Shen Xing? What of the child who shares your blood? He was your son too! You dare call this protection? No… this is cruelty beyond forgiveness."
Her anguished cry resounded through the grand hall, drowning every shred of reason. In that moment, it was not the voice of the Shen family's matriarch, but the broken roar of a mother whose heart had been shattered.
Shen xing for this I will not forgive you in my whole lifetime not even after I die said feng xinyue. She ran out of the main hall with tears in her eyes.
Deep within the dark forest, the storm raged like a furious beast. Rain poured endlessly from the heavens, each drop striking the ground like shards of glass. Thunder split the skies apart, while shadows of towering trees swayed violently in the howling wind.
There, among the roots and mud, a small figure stumbled forward—Shen Xuan, only five years old. His clothes were soaked through, clinging tightly to his fragile body. His little hands trembled as he tried to wipe the tears from his cheeks, but the rain washed them away just as quickly. His lips quivered, his childish voice breaking in despair.
"Mother… mother… where are you?"
The words vanished into the storm, unheard, uncared for. The two guards who had abandoned him were already gone, their footsteps swallowed by the night. Alone, Shen Xuan stood in a world that rejected him, his heart filled only with fear and longing.
The forest was not silent. All around, faint growls echoed, eyes glinting like embers in the dark. Savage beasts stirred restlessly, their instincts sharpened by the scent of weakness. Even the weakest of them, creatures at the Qi Condensation stage, were enough to tear apart an ordinary child.
Shen Xuan's body shook violently as he hugged himself, He wanted to run, but where could he go? Every direction was only deeper darkness, filled with death. The storm above seemed determined to crush him, as if the heavens themselves had cursed his very existence.
Yet within those frightened eyes, beneath the tears and the helplessness, a faint glimmer flickered—an ember that refused to die. Though fragile and small, Shen Xuan endured the storm, his tiny figure standing stubbornly against the cruelty of the world.
Just as Shen Xuan tried to steady his trembling body, a deep, guttural growl rolled through the storm. His tiny heart skipped a beat. From the shadows of the trees, slowly, a massive beast stepped into view.
It looked like a lion, but far more terrifying—its fur was jet black, its claws long enough to shred stone, and in the middle of its forehead sat a single crimson eye, glowing with a demonic light. The air seemed to thicken around it, heavy with a sinister pressure. This was a Demonic Lion, a creature whispered of in fear, one that normally hunted in packs. But tonight, this one had been left alone… and its hungry gaze had fallen upon a helpless child.
The beast licked its jaws, saliva dripping as its eye glowed brighter. Its growl reverberated through the forest, shaking Shen Xuan to his very core.
Shen Xuan froze for an instant, his tiny hands clenched at his sides. His body wanted to collapse, but the instinct to survive screamed louder. With a gasp, he turned and ran in the opposite direction, his small legs splashing through mud and puddles, stumbling over roots as the storm blinded his vision.
Behind him, the Demonic Lion let out a bone-chilling roar that pierced the night sky. Leaves scattered, beasts fled, and the storm itself seemed to retreat in fear. The predator's heavy steps crashed through the undergrowth, closing the distance with terrifying speed.
Shen Xuan's small feet splashed wildly against the mud as he ran with all his strength. He had taken no more than twenty desperate steps when a shadow loomed above him—the Demonic Lion had already closed the distance. With a roar that shook the ground, it lunged forward, claws gleaming in the storm's flashes of lightning.
Terrified, Shen Xuan stumbled. His fragile leg struck against a sharp stone hidden beneath the mud, and his body toppled forward. With a cry, he lost his balance and slipped over the edge of a steep cliff.
The beast's claws barely missed their mark—but one razor-sharp talon slashed across his waist. A burning pain tore through him, and blood gushed out, soaking his small frame. Deep, terrifying claw marks carved into his flesh, each one screaming of death.
He fell hard onto the rocky ground below, his tiny body trembling uncontrollably. The storm poured mercilessly over him, washing his blood into the earth.
The Demonic Lion peered down from the cliff's edge, its single crimson eye glowing with savage hunger. With a growl that shook the valley, it leapt after him, landing with a thunderous crash.
Now, there was no escape. The cliff surrounded Shen Xuan on all sides—jagged walls of stone rising like a prison. His body refused to move, every breath shallow, every heartbeat weaker than the last.
Tears streamed down his cheeks as he whimpered, "Why…? Why me? What did I do wrong…?" His voice cracked under the weight of despair. He was only five years old, yet fate had thrown him into a nightmare where even adults would collapse in fear.
The Demonic Lion's breath was hot and rancid as it prowled closer, claws digging into the earth, ready to deliver the final strike. The storm raged, lightning split the skies, and in that moment it seemed the heavens themselves had abandoned this child.
But within Shen Xuan's bleeding chest, something faint… something forbidden… stirred.
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