Tan Na Yu watched him quietly after she finished speaking.
"Did you understand?" she asked.
Tai Lung nodded at once.
"Yes."
She did not smile.
"And?" she prompted.
He shifted slightly in her arms, adopting the posture of a curious child with deliberate care. He had learned early – both lives – that questions were often more valuable than answers.
"My mother is immortal," he said.
"Yes," Tan Na Yu replied calmly.
"And we live in the Nine Immortal Realms," he continued.
"Yes."
Tai Lung tilted his head.
"Then why am I not immortal? Am I not your child?"
The question landed cleanly.
Tan Na Yu's eyes softened – with amusement at the child's question.
"No one is born immortal," she said. "Not here. Not anywhere."
She carried him closer to the window again, gesturing toward the distant horizon where layered mountains vanished into mist.
"These realms are called immortal not because immortals are born here, but because they can exist here. The qi is dense enough to sustain them. Lower realms cannot."
She paused, letting the logic settle.
"When someone ascends in a lower plane, they have no choice. They are expelled upward. A realm that cannot support their existence will reject them, the same way a fragile vessel shatters when overfilled."
Tai Lung considered that.
"So immortality is… location dependent?"
"Survivability is," she corrected. "Immortality is earned."
She turned from the window and sat, placing him on her lap.
"There were exceptions," she said quietly.
His attention sharpened.
"Only three," she continued. "In the entire history of existence. The first was born before cultivation itself. A being that shaped reality simply by existing. The one who created the mechanisms you now live under. He died doing so."
Tai Lung did not interrupt.
"The other two were twins," Tan Na Yu said. "Born not of humans, but from a divine peach tree that grew upon the grave of the first. One was born a million years before the other."
Her gaze grew distant.
"The elder twin seized Heaven. Overthrew the ruling emperor. Became one himself. When the younger was finally born, he desired the same. Their conflict became the War in Heavens."
"How long?" Tai Lung asked softly.
"A hundred thousand years," she replied. "It ended five thousand years ago."
"And they won?" he asked.
"They both died."
Silence followed.
"From them," she continued, "came the division you will hear spoken of as orthodox and demonic. Some call it righteous and evil. That is a lie."
Her voice hardened slightly.
"Orthodox cultivators follow the elder twin's legacy – order, inheritance, stability. Demonic cultivators follow the younger – growth, conflict, defiance. Demonic cultivators also call themselves followers of the Heavenly Demon or of the Heavenly Child. Neither is good. Neither is evil. They are philosophies born from a war that broke Heaven."
She looked down at him.
"Some believe one of the twins was the reincarnation of the First Divine. That belief alone fractured realms and gathered followers willing to burn worlds for it."
Tai Lung absorbed every word.
"And now?" he asked.
"Now the peach tree still stands," Tan Na Yu said. "And Heaven watches for what might be born from it next."
She brushed a hand through his silver hair.
"You are not immortal," she said gently. "Because immortality is not something you can inherit. It is a road."
Her gaze sharpened again.
"And roads," she added, forming her two fingers as if they were two legs and paced them up to Tai Lung's neck and started tickling him. "are walked."
Tai Lung started crying and laughing from the tickles, begging his mother to stop.
He had always been good at walking roads no one else noticed.
Then, Tan Na Yu said she had invited someone, Tai Lung understood that this was not a courtesy call. Immortals did not teach children unless something far more valuable than gratitude had been placed on the scales.
"He has agreed," she said, adjusting the sleeve of her robe. "In exchange, I will help him cross the Immortal Threshold."
Tai Lung looked up at her.
"That sounds… expensive."
She smiled. "It is."
Before he could ask more, the air changed. It did not ripple. It did not distort. It compressed.
Heat gathered – not the suffocating heat of flame, but the dry pressure of a furnace that had already consumed everything inside it. The space before them darkened, then split as if pried apart by invisible hands.
A figure stepped through.
He was enormous.
Four meters tall, easily. Not bloated, not monstrous. His frame was built like a weapon drawn by someone who understood anatomy too well. Muscle wrapped his bones tightly in layers. His shoulders were broad, his chest deep, his waist narrow. Every movement carried restrained violence.
His hair was long and curly, the color of fresh blood under sunlight. A wild, bushy beard framed a face carved sharp by heat and time. His eyes – crimson, unmistakable – glowed faintly, like embers that had never cooled.
Dragon blood. No.
Dragon physique.
The man knelt.
The stone floor cracked beneath one knee.
"Elder Tan," he said, voice deep and rough, like metal dragged across stone. "I have arrived."
Tan Na Yu inclined her head. Not deeply. Not arrogantly.
"Master Yan Zhen," she replied. "You are punctual."
Yan Zhen rose and turned his gaze toward Tai Lung.
The air shifted again.
Tai Lung felt it immediately.
Pressure – not hostile, not friendly. Assessing. Like being measured by a blade.
For the first time since his rebirth, Tai Lung felt something tighten in his chest.
Yan Zhen's lips curled slowly into something between a grin and a snarl.
"…So," he said. "This is the cub."
Tan Na Yu's eyes sharpened. "Mind your words."
Yan Zhen laughed – a booming, unrestrained sound.
"Apologies," he said. "Force of habit. Fire recognizes fire."
He crouched, bringing his massive frame closer to Tai Lung's level. Even then, he loomed like a living wall.
"He has Heaven-grade Fire," Yan Zhen said, not asking. "And a Solar-Dragon constitution. Clean. No artificial scars. No forced alignment."
Tai Lung met his gaze without flinching.
Yan Zhen's smile widened.
"And he's not a dumb fucking idiot," the man added. "Good."
Tan Na Yu's voice cut in, calm and absolute.
"You will teach him the Dragon Warrior Codex."
Yan Zhen straightened.
For the first time since his arrival, his expression grew serious.
"That codex," he said slowly, "was not meant for human children."
"It was meant for dragons," Tan Na Yu replied. "My son qualifies."
Yan Zhen exhaled, heat rolling off him like a wave.
"The Dragon Warrior Codex does not shape bodies," he said. "It forges weapons. It heats the body to extreme temperatures and then repeatedly hammers it on an anvil to achieve its final shape and internal strength. Many die before Tempered Flesh even completes."
Tai Lung spoke.
"What happens if I don't die?"
Yan Zhen blinked.
Then he laughed again – this time, delighted.
"Then," he said, "you become something that walks into battle and decides how it ends."
Silence followed.
Tan Na Yu placed a hand on Tai Lung's shoulder.
"This man," she said, "has walked the Codex to Law Integration. His dragon physique differs from yours, but the path overlaps. He will guide you through the early forging."
She looked at Yan Zhen.
"And I will ensure your ascent."
Yan Zhen held her gaze for a long moment.
Then he bowed – deeply this time.
"I accept," he said. "He shall be my disciple."
He turned back to Tai Lung, eyes burning with interest.
"From today onward," Yan Zhen said, "your body is no longer yours. It belongs to the Codex."