The morning sun of Radiant Dawn Province poured through the crimson glass of the royal sanctum, striking the obsidian floor like molten gold. The entire Eternal Radiance Empire trembled under the ringing of the celestial bells — the Fourth Prince's coming-of-age ceremony had begun.
At the center of the grand hall stood Li Tianzhao, motionless as a sculpture carved by the gods. He was tall and lean-muscled, his silver-white hair tied in a loose knot that caught the morning light like frost. His eyes, calm and sharp as mirrored jade, reflected neither joy nor pride. Courtiers whispered that he resembled a blade sheathed in silk — beautiful, but deadly.
Behind the serene mask, Tianzhao's thoughts were razor-cold.
> Another ceremony of empty vows. Another display of Heaven's glory while the Abyss gnaws at our borders.
His elder brothers stood in ceremonial armor to his right — the First Prince in scarlet, the Second in gold, the Third in green — all smirking with barely concealed superiority. They knew the Fourth Prince was quiet, bookish, the least ambitious of them. Or so they believed.
The Grand Imperial Preceptor stepped forward, voice deep and ceremonial.
"By decree of the Radiant Emperor, on this day, the Fourth Prince Li Tianzhao shall awaken his spiritual root beneath the Flame Sun Monument."
A slab of black crystal, etched with divine runes, rose from the sanctum floor. Flames danced around it, forming an image of the empire's founding emperor — the first to cultivate the Solar Titan Body, the Empire's supreme body-refining art.
The Preceptor's tone hardened.
"Your Highness, as tradition dictates, no elemental qi shall assist you. Only the flesh and the heart may endure the Flame Sun's trial."
Tianzhao nodded once. "I understand."
He stepped onto the monument.
At once, heat surged through his veins like molten iron. His vision blurred; blood hissed from his pores. The Solar Titan Body was no ordinary technique — it did not gather qi, but tempered flesh until it became a vessel stronger than any spell. Elemental energy could not coexist with it; to cultivate it was to defy Heaven's elements themselves.
> Pain is an illusion of the unrefined, he reminded himself, repeating the mantra carved into the imperial vaults. The body is the true scripture of the Dao.
His skin began to glow — first red, then gold, then pure white.
The courtiers gasped. Even the Emperor, seated upon the high throne, leaned forward. No prince before had reached the third radiance on the first day.
Then something changed.
Behind his calm eyes, a second heartbeat thundered to life — deep, resonant, alien. He saw, for a moment, seven burning sigils of darkness and seven of light, circling one another within his dantian like twin galaxies.
A voice, neither male nor female, whispered within him.
> You possess the Yuanxin Spirit Body — the Heart of Origin. Flesh shall be your fortress, but the sins and virtues of the world shall be your soldiers.
A torrent of sensations crashed through him: pride and humility, wrath and patience, greed and charity — fourteen tides colliding in one sea. His consciousness almost shattered.
Then, just as suddenly, it stilled. The opposing forces retreated to the edges of his soul, sleeping like tamed beasts awaiting command.
The monument went dark. The flames died.
Only Tianzhao's breathing filled the silence.
The Preceptor, pale and sweating, whispered, "The… Yuanxin Spirit Body. It hasn't appeared since the First Emperor."
The courtiers knelt in fear. Even his elder brothers' smug faces turned grave.
The Emperor's eyes narrowed — not in joy, but calculation.
> So the heavens have marked this child.
When Tianzhao opened his eyes again, they were not quite the same. Deep within the irises flickered faint concentric sigils — invisible to most, but sharp as starlight to those who could see qi. They were the first manifestation of his yet-unnamed Eye of Foresight, born from the collision of sin and virtue within him.
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That night, in his secluded chamber, Tianzhao sat cross-legged before a brazier of blue flame. Every inch of his skin steamed; the day's tempering had forged his flesh beyond mortal limits. He could feel the strength humming beneath the surface, the pulse of the Solar Titan Body beginning its first stage: The Tempering of Bone.
He whispered to himself, voice low and calm.
"The Empire teaches that the flesh is the only truth. Let them chase elements and spells. I will master the body and command the hearts of men."
He clenched his fist. The air trembled. The brazier's flame wavered though he hadn't moved a muscle.
Then the inner voice — that second heartbeat — spoke again, softer now.
> Fourteen reflections… seven sins, seven virtues. Each shall be born from a fragment of you. Through them, you will rule both Heaven and Abyss.
Tianzhao exhaled slowly, accepting the words without surprise.
"I see. To strengthen the body, I must master the self. To master the self, I must know every desire and every restraint."
He pressed his hand against the floor; threads of spiritual light seeped outward, forming a seven-point mandala beneath him. Within each point, a spark flickered — one golden, one crimson, one green, one azure, one silver, one violet, one black.
Each spark represented a nascent incarnation waiting for the perfect environment to grow.
> When the time comes, they will walk the empire as my unseen limbs.
For now, he turned his attention inward. The Solar Titan Body demanded three supreme techniques, three manifestations of raw will forged through flesh alone:
1. Heaven-Sight Stance – heightening every perception until even the motion of qi could be felt like wind upon skin.
2. Iron-Soul Veins – a state where his flesh rejected all external energy, nullifying spells and elemental strikes.
3. Emperor's Mandate – the roar of absolute dominance, a pressure that could bend weaker wills or shatter unrefined souls.
These were not spells but extensions of intent. Once perfected, they would make his body a living weapon. For their use, he carried a single instrument: the Sun-Breaker Naginata, forged from the bones of a fallen celestial beast. Its crescent blade gleamed beside him like frozen lightning.
He stood, testing the weight of the weapon, its balance perfectly aligned to his heartbeat.
> Three thousand years until the next war. One thousand until the throne changes hands. Let my brothers waste their time on parades. I will forge a realm inside myself first.
The faint sigils within his eyes flared once, showing him fleeting visions:
— a path of crimson light leading to triumph, another of shadow leading to betrayal.
He understood the gift's limit. It did not show him destiny, only consequence. A warning, not salvation.
He smiled faintly, that cold, unreadable curve that unsettled even seasoned generals.
> Enough for now. The heart sees what the eyes cannot.
Outside, the bells of Radiant Dawn tolled midnight.
Somewhere in the empire, the seven sparks of his incarnations stirred — invisible, formless, waiting for the master's command.
And above them all, the Fourth Prince sat in silent meditation, the calm eye of a storm that would one day shake the heavens.
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End of Chapter 1 – The Prince Who Hides His Heart