Location: Burning Flame Valley, Inner Sanctum.
The training hall was silent, save for the rhythmic crackling of the magma pool bubbling nearby.
The heat was oppressive, enough to scorch the lungs of a normal human, but for the members of the Tang Clan, it was as comfortable as a warm bath.
Tang Chen stood on a stone pillar, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his brow. At six years old, his red hair was tied back, revealing a face that was childish but surprisingly composed.
Across from him stood Tang Zhen.
The Valley Master stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his aura retracted but heavy, like a dormant volcano.
"Again," Tang Zhen commanded calmly.
Tang Chen grit his teeth. He channeled his Qi, his small hands forming a seal.
"Shattering Fire Palm!"
It was a Low-Huang class technique, the foundation skill for all disciples. Tang Chen's palm glowed with a dense red light. He struck the obsidian target dummy.
Bang!
A scorch mark appeared on the rock, and a small spiderweb of cracks spread from the impact point.
For a six-year-old, it was impressive. For a 5-Star Dou Practitioner, it was a perfect execution of the technique.
Tang Zhen walked over to the dummy. He inspected the cracks.
"Your control is excellent," Tang Zhen stated, his voice deep and level. "Your Dou Qi is dense. The Elders are right; you are a genius among geniuses."
Tang Chen exhaled, wiping his face with his sleeve. "Thank you, Father."
"But," Tang Zhen turned, his eyes sharp. "It lacks intent."
Tang Chen paused. "Intent?"
"Killing intent," Tang Zhen said bluntly. "You strike like you are hitting a target to score points. You do not strike as if you want to destroy an enemy. You have the technique, Chen'er, but you lack the ferocity of the Burning Flame Valley."
Tang Chen looked at his hands.
Of course I lack ferocity, he thought bitterly. In my past life, I was just a normal person living in a peaceful society. I've never had to fight for my life. And here? I live in a palace where everyone bows to me.
"Let me go out," Tang Chen said suddenly.
Tang Zhen raised an eyebrow, looking down at his son.
"Let me go to the Black Corner Region," Tang Chen pressed, his voice steady. "Let me see blood. Let me struggle. If I stay here, surrounded by guards and safety, how can I ever develop the intent you want?"
Tang Zhen stared at his son for a long time. The air in the room grew heavy, the pressure of a Dou Zun leaking out just enough to make the air vibrate.
"No," Tang Zhen said simply.
"Why?"
"Because you are the Heir," Tang Zhen turned away, walking back to his throne at the end of the hall. "The Nine Dragon Lightning Flame requires a specific vessel to inherit it. You are that vessel. If I let you go to the Black Corner Region and a random villain like Han Feng or the Gold and Silver Brothers kills you, the Valley loses its future."
"So I am a prisoner?" Tang Chen asked quietly.
Tang Zhen stopped. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression softening just a fraction—the only sign of his fatherly love.
"You are a treasure, Chen'er. When you are a Dou King, you may leave to explore the continent. Until then, you stay where I can protect you."
Tang Zhen waved his hand dismissively. "Go rest. Tomorrow, we practice defensive arts."
That Night.
Tang Chen sat at his desk, staring at the flickering candle flame.
The conversation replayed in his mind. When you are a Dou King.
"That will take ten years," Tang Chen whispered to the empty room. "Ten years of safety. Ten years of being a flower in a greenhouse."
He stood up and paced around the luxurious room.
He knew the plot. He knew that while the Central Plains looked stable now, the Hall of Souls (Hun Hall) was moving in the shadows. They were harvesting souls, preparing for a war that would engulf the entire continent.
Tang Zhen wasn't wrong to protect him. Any father would. But Tang Zhen didn't know the future. He didn't know that "safety" was the most dangerous thing for a cultivator.
"If I stay here, I'll grow up soft," Tang Chen realized. "I'll be a powerful Dou Zun one day, sure. But when the real monsters come—the Ancient Clans, the Hall of Souls—I'll just be prey."
He needed an edge. He needed the Flame Mantra. He needed Yao Lao.
And most importantly, he needed to learn how to survive on his own, without the Burning Flame Valley's name protecting him.
Tang Chen stopped pacing. He made his decision.
He took off his expensive silk sleeping robes and put on a durable, grey linen outfit he had swiped from the servant's quarters weeks ago.
He checked his spatial bracelet.
Gold coins.
Dried rations.
Water skins.
A map of the continent.
He sat down at the desk and wrote a letter. He didn't write a childish goodbye. He wrote the truth.
Father, Mother,
You said I lack intent. You are right. I cannot find it here.
Do not send the Iron Guards to find me. If you drag me back, I will just be a resentment-filled child who never reaches his potential. Let me walk my own path. Let me struggle in the mud so I can learn how to stand up.
I will return when I can hold my head high as a warrior, not just an heir.
Your son, Tang Chen.
He placed the letter on the desk, weighing it down with his Identity Jade—the symbol of his status as the Young Master. Leaving it behind was a message: he was leaving as just Tang Chen.
He opened the window. The night air was cool compared to the magma heat below.
He slipped out into the night, moving through the shadows of the roof tiles.
The Sky Harbor.
The massive Void Boats floated silently, tethered to the docking towers. The dark wood of the hulls hummed with spatial energy.
Tang Chen moved through the shadows of the stacked crates. He spotted the manifest for Boat 404.
[Cargo: Low-Grade Star Iron & Medicinal Herbs. Destination: Black Corner Region.]
He watched the workers. They were tired, eager to finish their shift. They weren't checking the crates thoroughly.
Tang Chen saw his opportunity. A crate near the back was left slightly ajar, waiting for a final inspection seal.
He took a deep breath. His heart was hammering against his ribs. This was it. No turning back.
He dashed across the gap. He didn't use Dou Qi—he simply ran, light and fast on his feet. He scrambled up the side of the crate and slipped inside.
It was full of soft packing straw.
He pulled the straw over himself, burying deep into the corner, making himself as small as possible.
Minutes later, he heard heavy footsteps.
"Check the seals," a foreman grunted.
A light shone through the crack of the lid, sweeping over the straw. Tang Chen held his breath, his body completely still, praying they wouldn't poke the straw with a spear.
"Looks fine. Seal it."
Bam.
The lid was hammered shut. The darkness was absolute.
Tang Chen exhaled slowly in the dark.
He felt the ship shudder as the spatial engines engaged. The hum of energy vibrated through the wood, signaling their departure.
He wasn't leaving because he hated his family. He was leaving because he respected the burden he had to carry. To save the Burning Flame Valley in the future, he had to leave it today.
"Next stop: The Northwest," Tang Chen whispered. "Time to find the legend."