Storm clouds gathered across the midnight sky, swallowing the silver glow of the magnificent moon.
Lightning split the heavens, and the wind howled through the empty streets of the Central Capital of the Crimson Sun Kingdom.
Within the Ironblood Clan's mansion, the atmosphere was tense. Guards stood rigid, their gaits stiff with unease. Maids rushed through the corridors, their hurried steps echoing against the walls, while the anguished cries of a woman reverberated through the estate.
Tonight, the wife of Duke Darius Ironblood — Patriarch of the clan — was giving birth. Tonight, perhaps, an heir would be born.
Darius sat beside the bed, his ever-icy expression cracked with worry. His war-worn, calloused hands gently clasped the slender fingers of his wife as he whispered encouragements.
"Just a little more, madam. You're almost there," soothed the midwife, her aged voice steady despite the storm outside.
The woman screamed one final time — and then silence fell.
"What is it? Is it a boy?" Darius asked, his voice trembling with both fear and hope.
The midwife held the newborn in her arms, her silence stretching unbearably.
"Yes… yes, my lord. It is a boy," she stammered at last.
But the Lady of the house sensed something amiss. Her voice broke with panic:
"My baby! Why isn't he crying? Why is he so silent?"
The midwife stared at the child, entranced by it's large unfazed, curious golden eyes, her voice faltering.
"He's healthy, madam. It's just—"
Her words died as the infant's tiny hand shot out, clutching her finger with unnatural strength.
Crunch.
Her wrinkly face warped her eyes widened, pupils constricting in horror.
"Kyaaaa!" she screamed, flinging the child into the air as she recoiled in pain.
Darius moved with lightning speed, catching his son tenderly.
Fury blazed in his golden eyes, his silver hair billowing — not from the still air, but from sheer power.
"HOW DARE YOU!" His voice thundered, cold and merciless.
The killing intent of the empire's greatest warrior pressed down on the midwife, freezing her in terror.
Yet even through her fear, she heard it — the haunting sound of the infant's innocent giggle.
Wasn't a newborn meant to cry?
She looked at her mangled finger, veins trembling with dread. No human infant could possess such strength.
There was only one explanation.
"Demon! That thing is not hum—"
Splat!
Her words ended in a wet explosion as her skull was crushed into a bloody paste. Blood splattering across the chamber.
"How dare you speak ill of my seed!" Darius roared, his voice echoing like judgment itself.
His blood-stained face softened as he gazed down at the giggling child, who was innocently clutching tightly unto his father's finger.
"You're a special one, aren't you," he murmured feeling the unreal force behind the infants grip.
He returned to his wife, who remained unfazed by the carnage. Together, they cradled the golden-eyed infant.
Who examined both parents curiously giggling toothlessly.
An ethereal smile lit Kael's mother's face as she caressed her child's tender cheek.
"Kael… let's call him Kael," Darius declared.
And thus, the anomaly of creation — Kael Ironblood — was born.
Kael was no ordinary child.
At six weeks, he could walk. By eight, he was running through the halls of the Ironblood castle.
At four months, he spoke. By a year, he read.
By two, caretakers were replaced regularly — some injured by playful smacks, others nearly killed outright. The clan had no choice but to assign martial experts to watch over the young master.
And even they trembled.
A single punch from Kael once knocked out a peak Iron Sinew expert.
Another time, he broke the arm of a Skin Molting cultivator without realizing it.
It became clear: only high-level warriors could survive training or even playing with the young master.
Rumors spread quickly through the capital. The people whispered of the gifted child of the ironbloods, instinctively hailing him as the leader of the new generation.
The thought of the talented child becoming another peerless figure appeared across countless minds bringing smiles to allies and frowns to rival clans.
Before long the day awaited by all arrived. Kael was five.
He awoke groggily, blinking up at the stern face of his father. His eyes lit up, and he leapt into Darius's embrace, grinning wide.
"Father, did you come to play?" Kael asked, his head bobbing with excitement.
Darius chuckled, ruffling his son's silver hair.
"Not today, son. Today is the day of your awakening."
Kael tilted his head.
"Awakening? What is that, Father? Can it be eaten?"
Darius burst into laughter.
"No, son. It is greater than food. Today, we discover your path — your destiny."
Pausing for a bit Darius smiled and added.
"Think of it like an exam."
Kael's eyes widened with wonder.
His father lifted him onto his shoulders, stepping out of his room and carried him down the spiraling stairs.
"But what if I fail?" Kael whispered, clutching his father's head with enough force to crush a normal man's skull.
"There is no failure for you, son," Darius replied calmly. "Even if your talents are mediocre, you are still my child."
Reassured, Kael's fear eased.
They entered a vast underground hall, filled with the Ironblood clan's inner circle. His mother guided him forward through the crowd.
Bringing him before a sacred altar, her smile gentle.
"Place your hand upon it, son," she encouraged.
Hesitating a bit Kael obeyed, resting his small palms on the cold silver surface of the erect alter.
The hall fell silent. Eyes watched with anticipation, breaths held.
This was their Patriarch's first born son his talent couldn't be shabby right?
With such inborn innate strenght, such gifted physique the young master surely had to have an insane capacity for qi right?
The Ironbloods were a unified clan, with almost zero infighting, so their thoughts, prayers, expectations were all unified.
The silence stretched long, for too long and the realization budded there was no reaction of Qi!
The altar remained inert.
The truth was undeniable.
The young master of the Ironbloods possessed zero talent for cultivation.