The sky was calm.
No thunder roared. No celestial light pierced the clouds. No spiritual beast howled from a distant ridge. The wind whispered gently across the pine-covered hills of the Eastern Spirit Continent, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and blooming snowbark flowers.
It was an ordinary evening.
In the heart of the Zhen Clan's inner compound, nestled within the protective arms of a spirit-gathering formation, the cries of a newborn echoed from a modest birthing room built of dark wood and stone. A few lanterns flickered dimly outside, their glow soft under the overcast sky.
Inside, sweat dripped from the brow of an aging midwife as she cut the final cord. "It's a boy," she murmured, her voice calm and practiced. She swaddled the child in clean cloth and placed him in the arms of a waiting woman.
The mother, Lan Xue, a gentle beauty with frost-pale skin and serene eyes, gazed down at the child nestled in her arms. The boy did not wail or struggle—he only blinked slowly, his expression oddly quiet for a newborn.
"Zhen Liang," she whispered, brushing a strand of dark hair from the boy's forehead. "Peaceful brightness. That will be your name."
Moments later, the door slid open, and in walked a man with steady steps and sharp eyes.
Zhen Mu, the boy's father, stood tall and expressionless, his presence that of a cultivator tempered by decades of discipline. A Foundation Establishment expert, he did not rush to the child's side, but merely studied him in silence.
"He's quiet," he said at last.
Lan Xue smiled faintly. "He's calm."
Footsteps echoed behind them as another presence entered the room. This one bore weight—silent, invisible pressure that made even the seasoned midwife bow her head instantly.
Cloaked in ash-grey robes and walking with hands clasped behind his back, Elder Zhen Xu—one of the clan's oldest Core Formation cultivators—stepped forward.
"No celestial signs," the elder said mildly. "Still, such things are not the only measure of potential."
Without waiting, he extended two fingers and gently tapped the child's brow.
A thin wisp of spiritual energy flowed into the infant's body, tracing his undeveloped meridians, bones, and dantian. Elder Zhen Xu's eyes narrowed as he examined the infant's qi structure.
After a long pause, he withdrew his hand.
"No signs of tampering. No curses, seals, or poisons. The child is physically healthy. Meridians intact. No awakened root yet—he'll be tested at the appropriate age."
He nodded. "A normal birth."
Zhen Mu grunted in quiet acknowledgment. Lan Xue held her child a little closer.
Outside, the wind rustled through the courtyard trees, and the sky remained overcast and silent. No heavenly omens appeared. No fate-altering signs descended.
And yet, deep within the infant's soul, something ancient and sealed stirred faintly—silent, sleeping, and unknown.
Five Years Later – Spirit Root Ceremony
The Zhen Clan's ancestral courtyard was decorated with crimson ribbons and lanterns. Rows of elders and family members sat on wooden benches as over two dozen children lined up in front of a jade testing platform. A glowing orb hovered at its center—faintly humming with spiritual energy.
The Spirit Root Awakening Ceremony was a solemn tradition. Here, the children would discover whether they possessed a spiritual root—and what path, if any, lay open before them in the cultivation world.
Elder Zhen Yi, a kindly Foundation Establishment cultivator with white-streaked hair and sharp eyes, raised his voice.
"Spiritual roots determine your fate. A person without a root cannot cultivate. Those with dual or triple roots may walk the path with effort. But those with single-element roots—and rarer still, mutated roots—have a chance to stand above the crowd."
A hush fell over the courtyard.
The first children stepped forward one by one:
"Zhen Tao—Fire Root."
"Zhen Mei—Dual Root: Water and Wood."
"Zhen Yao—Earth Root."
Cheers erupted for high-purity roots. Sympathy followed those who failed.
Two children—Zhen Fei and Zhen Lian—touched the orb, only to be met with silence. No light. No pulse. Their futures dimmed in a single breath.
And then, it was Zhen Liang's turn.
The quietest of the group. Often seen napping under trees or skipping sword lessons to chase butterflies. Born of the second wife, and without any signs of genius until now.
He stepped forward slowly, blinking as if still half-asleep.
Lifting his hand, he placed it on the orb.
CRACK—!!
A deafening snap filled the courtyard as lightning exploded from the jade orb. Violet arcs snapped across the stone, kicking up wind and static. Elders stood. Gasps echoed.
"Thunder Root!" Zhen Yi exclaimed. "A mutated spiritual root!"
Before the murmurs could settle, he stepped forward. "Zhen Liang, place your hand again. We will now test the purity of your root."
Liang obeyed without question. The orb flared again—this time, calmer. A pulse of light shimmered above it, forming glowing script.
"70% Spirituality."
A silence heavier than shock settled across the crowd.
Even most single-element roots rarely passed 60%.
To possess a mutated Thunder Root, with 70% spiritual purity, was the mark of a rare genius—one that could rise above thousands with proper guidance.
But Zhen Liang merely stared at the orb, yawned, and turned back toward his family.
That Evening – A Family's Joy
The Zhen family's private hall glowed with soft candlelight. Plates of spirit beast meat, steamed herbs, and glutinous rice lined the long table. Laughter and warmth filled the room.
Zhen Mu sat at the head, quiet but visibly proud. At his left was his first wife, Wei Lian, graceful and poised. At his right sat Lan Xue, her eyes shining as she gazed at her son.
Liang's elder siblings—Zhen Tian and Zhen Hai, the proud twin brothers, and Zhen Rou, the composed elder sister—shared smiles and teased the little one gently.
"A Thunder Root, little brother?" Tian smirked. "You've been hiding your thunder behind naps."
"Maybe he dreams about cultivation," Rou added with a laugh.
Lan Xue poured wine for her husband. "Whatever his path, today is a good day. Let it be celebrated."
Even Wei Lian smiled. "One day, they will speak the name Zhen Liang beyond this household."
The family raised their cups. Dishes passed hands. For a night, there was peace.
No jealousy. No coldness between wives. No sibling rivalry.
Only warmth, joy, and the soft hum of harmony.
The moon hung high.
In the quiet of his room, Zhen Liang curled under a light blanket. His breaths slowed, and dreams crept into the corners of his mind. Not a normal dream but the awakening of a certain sealed memory.