The laughter and warmth of breakfast vanished the moment Yue Chenxi's expression turned serious.
He set down his chopsticks and met his son's gaze with a rare solemnity. The room, once filled with the fragrance of spirit congee, grew heavy with unspoken tension.
"Zihan," his father began, his tone low and commanding, "we need to start your training early."
Zihan blinked. "Training? Already?"
The Emperor's eyes flashed with faint irritation. "That old bastard Chu Ming couldn't wait to flaunt his son's awakening. The brat's manifested a Burning Sun Battle Body one of the top ten among the Hundred Battle Bodies. Hmph!"
He let out a sharp laugh, half pride, half fury. "He stood there, smirking, with that son of his ,Chu Chen, soaking up praises like he invented the Dao itself. Arrogant little peacock! He's just like his father."
The Emperor leaned back, his jaw tightening. "Zihan, you must be careful of him. And more importantly don't let anyone surpass you. Remember who you are. We are the royal bloodline, the peak of this world's pyramid."
Zihan lowered his head in thought.
Ah, the classic setup. Rival prodigy with a fiery battle body, future protagonist energy, possibly engaged to some icy beauty… wait, don't tell me...
He sighed inwardly. Being overshadowed by the Chu family wasn't just bad optics it threatened the kingdom's balance of power. The Chu Clan, famed for their mastery of the Dao of Fire, had always been both an ally and a thorn in the empire's side.
Their founder, Flame Ancestor Chu Huo, once created a divine technique that fused flame with the soul itself. Every generation since had refined it further, cultivating flames as pure as divine sunlight.
Their red hair marked them clearly, and their control over fire arts made them untouchable in their domain.
Now, with Chu Chen inheriting the Burning Sun Battle Body the very same physique once possessed by the Flame Emperor their prestige would soar like wildfire.
Zihan could already picture it: the radiant young heir, admired by sects, cheered by beauties, his name echoing through the continent.
Typical protagonist stuff, Zihan muttered inwardly. All that's left is some ice princess for contrast....
The door creaked open.
"Your Majesty," a guard announced, bowing low, "Chancellor Ming Daoxi requests an audience."
A short, middle-aged man with a round face and worried eyes entered, kneeling before the throne.
Yue Chenxi waved a hand. "Speak."
The Chancellor hesitated, his voice trembling slightly. "Your Majesty, news has just arrived the Chu family has formed a marital alliance with the Ice Lotus Sect. Their young master, Chu Chen, is now engaged to the sect's saintess."
Zihan almost fell off his father's lap.
You've got to be kidding me.
He bit back a laugh. Fire prodigy engaged to ice beauty. They're not even trying to be subtle about it. Am I really living in a webnovel template?
The Emperor's face darkened. His aura surged like a brewing storm, making the chandeliers tremble. "They think they can spread their wings and fly above the heavens? Good. Let them!"
His voice echoed through the hall, cold and furious.
"We will cut all trade with the Chu family and triple their taxes. Let's see how long they last when the royal mines stop supplying them spirit stones."
The air crackled with power. Even Ming Daoxi, seasoned as he was, broke into a sweat.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" He bowed low and hurried out, eager to escape the brewing tempest.
When silence returned, the Empress sighed softly and reached out, touching her husband's hand. "Calm down, my love. Let them bask in temporary glory. It will fade, as all flames do."
Her tone was soothing, serene and cold enough to freeze blood.
Then her gaze turned to Zihan, and her lips curved into that gentle, dangerous smile. "We need to begin Zihan's forging."
Yue Chenxi nodded. "Prepare the ingredients," he ordered.
The butler bowed deeply. "At once, Your Majesty."
The Emperor stood, still holding Zihan effortlessly in his arms, and walked out of the throne room. The Empress followed close behind, her steps light yet resonant with power.
Through the silk blindfold, Zihan couldn't see their faces, but he could feel them their souls glowing like twin stars in the void.
His father's aura burned deep violet, wrapped in streaks of imperial gold. His mother's shimmered blue and violet, gentle yet infinitely vast.
So… soul colors are a thing, Zihan mused. Figures.
He turned slightly, sensing the others behind them.
Ruo Jin's soul was pale green, nervous but steady.
The butler's burned royal blue, refined, disciplined, sharp as a blade.
And his own?
When he looked inward, even through the haze of mortal sight… he saw nothing.
Only mist.
Shifting, chaotic mist colors devoured and reborn with every heartbeat.
It pulsed faintly in rhythm with the world, and for a fleeting moment, he felt the palace itself tremble.