Observing its new existence with cold fascination, Tian Shen Ji was a living contradiction that perplexed Xiao Tian Village. By the time he was four, he was physically ahead of every child double or even triple his age in the village. He had dark, sharp eyes, a copy of his father's, and his mother's unsettlingly graceful features. Yet, the boy was unnaturally skinny, his ribs faintly visible beneath taut skin, which gave him the appearance of being malnourished. This was deeply unsettling, as his father, Tian Xin, was one of the most successful hunters in the Black Crescent Mountains Range, and he would never allow his child to go hungry.
Only Tian Xin and Shu Yan knew the truth: internally, their son was a healthy baby who ate as much as his father, an adult and martial artist. Yet, all the sustenance seemed to vanish, even as he quickly grew out of the deathly pallor of his birth. They attributed the baffling energy drain to the powerful essence of the Heavenly Treasure Fruit Shu Yan had consumed during pregnancy.
Tian Xin had risked his life, adventuring deep into the Black Crescent Mountains Range for medicines to strengthen Shu Yan's frail disposition, where he managed to snatch the fruit from a battle between two terrifying beasts. The mysterious fruit was probably a Heavenly Treasure. Just by possessing it, he felt his debilitating limp improve, confirming its legendary status. He had given this treasure to his pregnant wife.
Despite his frailty, the immediate crisis of survival had passed. The frantic energy of the Innate Treasure had settled, becoming a faint, rhythmic pulse deep within his spirit—a silent partner in his continued existence. His primary concern was the strange, all-enconsuming emotion directed at him: Love.
Overwhelming paternal love, a love he struggled to categorize. His father, Tian Xin, was a tireless source of physical warmth and devotion. Tian Shen Ji could feel the muscle beneath the man's rough clothes, a testament to a life spent wrestling the hard terrain of the Black Crescent Mountains Range. Tian Xin would spend hours holding him, the scent of woodsmoke and clean sweat a constant comfort. For the cynical soul, who had died alone and regretted a life built on transactions, this fierce, unconditional affection was utterly bewildering.
I am a commodity. I am an opportunity. the soul would silently rationalize, searching for the catch.
But no catch ever came. When Tian Xin gently stroked his head, there was no request, no expectation, only relief and pride. When the baby cried, the father did not sigh with annoyance, but with unfamiliar sorrow that the child was distressed. Tian Shen Ji slowly, reluctantly, realized this was not a transaction; this was paternal love, a pure, terrifyingly vulnerable emotion his past life had never known.
His mother, Shu Yan was often weak, a serene presence, marked by dark hair, darker eyes, and amplified by her pale skin and naturally red lips. Her quiet grace was indeed otherworldly, a fragile beauty that seemed too delicate for the hunter's house. For five years, Tian Shen Ji absorbed this love, recognizing it as the most precious, and terrifyingly vulnerable, thing he had ever possessed. She would sing him strange, soft lullabies—not common folk songs, but rhythmic chants in a language he did not recognize.
It was this combination—the father's robust, simple affection and the mother's sickly, ethereal devotion—that broke through the steel of his soul. They were genuinely good and kind people, a fact the villagers agreed on. They were the benchmark of benevolence in this little village.
One evening, after returning from a successful hunt, Tian Shen Ji asked his father, watching him slice meat, "Why do we hunt so much? We have enough to eat."
Tian Xin knelt by the small fire, wiping his hands on his trousers. He smiled, a tired but gentle expression. "We have enough, but others do not. The Solitary Widow by the North path, her boy has a fever. The meat we leave at her door—that is the tax we pay to the village for the safety it gives us."
"What if they don't give anything back?"
Tian Xin looked his son in the eye. "We don't do it for payment, Shen Ji. We do it because we can. If you have the strength, and you see someone who needs help, you help them." He pressed a piece of cooked meat into the boy's hand. "It's the right thing to do, Son. Always help people if you can. Power is useless if you don't know when to use it."
One cold afternoon, with Tian Xin sitting nearby, watching with a tense quietness, Shu Yan called Tian Shen Ji to her side. Between the parents lay two antique scrolls. One was dark and green, engraved with ancient turtles—the Eight Hidden Inner Turtle Breaths scroll. The other was dark-gold and red, marked with majestic phoenixes—the Phoenix Nine Reversal Refining Qi technique. Shu Yan looked particularly frail today.
She explained the terrifying structure of the Phoenix Nine Reversal Refining Qi: how it forces the cultivator to recycle their Qi nine times within the basic Qi Gathering/Refining realm, promising a vast spiritual capacity.
"But this power is a cage," she continued, her voice heavy with anxiety. "I managed one cycle, almost two, but my body failed. Listen closely: once you begin the second cycle, you cannot change this technique without consequence. If you abandon it, your foundation will crumble."
Tian Shen Ji's mind raced. Trapped! The path to true power is blocked by the technique itself.
Tian Xin spoke up, his hand resting on the turtle scroll. That art was the Eight Hidden Inner Turtle Breaths, a foundational technique passed down through the family for generations. Tian Xin's training emphasized great defense and endurance, and its low-key principles grant you the specialty of concealing the breath and blending into his surroundings. We believe, Son, that you cannot continue past the third cycle—perhaps the fourth or fifth, even with my martial art—unless you find a method to drastically strengthen your body."
"We have given you all we have, Shen Ji," Shu Yan whispered. "But you must know the full truth of the path I started you on."
He looked at his wife, his grief clear. They were placing their son on a razor's edge.
In the months that followed, Tian Shen Ji intensely practiced his mother's secret technique and his father's martial arts. His soul decades of experience, ensured his motor control and comprehension were years beyond his peers, remembering the chaotic violence of the Epoch Giants and the terrifying power of the Netherworld, knew this simple strength was akin to a child's toy. But this is the start, the soul calculated. The true power, the one that can fight the Giants it will come one day.
Shu Yan, noticing his swift progress, offered a weak smile. Her face, usually pale with sickness, was now intensely focused.
If Tian Xin taught simple force and open ethics, Shu Yan handled the secret lessons and true survival.
She looked straight into his dark eyes. Her grip tightened, urging him close. "Your father's way is noble, but simple kindness is a luxury. You are unique, Shen Ji. That makes you a target."
"Your father is the best man I know," her voice growing grave. "He believes that if you can help, you must help. It is a beautiful ideal that has kept him, and me, alive."
She hesitated, and Tian Shen Ji sensed a deep, unexpected bitterness in her tone.
"But the world is far crueler. People see kindness and take it for granted. They use it. They believe they deserve it and that you are foolish for giving it freely."
She pulled him into a quiet hug. "You will become strong. When you do, help, but not for free. Ask for something in return. It does not have to be much. But it must be something.
Tian Shen Ji absorbed the lessons like dry earth taking water. He became a respectful, kind boy, ready to help... as long as he factored in the cost.