Yang Tian's mother gazed softly at her adorable, obedient child, a gentle smile spreading across her face. Yet, behind her warm expression, a faint trace of sadness flickered in her eyes. She watched him with a mixture of love and worry, knowing that the future held many uncertainties for her son.
Yang Zhen, noticing the sorrow in his wife's eyes as she looked at Yang Tian, felt his own heart tighten painfully. Despite the ache he felt inside, he maintained a composed exterior, his expression unreadable. He gently reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Yun'er's shoulder.
His voice was calm but firm as he spoke, "Yun'er, don't be sad. Tian'er needs to understand the history and enmity of our family eventually. It's something he cannot avoid forever. We're here to protect him, to shield him until he's strong enough to face the world on his own."
Yun'er's eyes shimmered with tears as she responded softly, "I just want our child to grow up in peace. I don't want him to struggle or suffer in this cruel, unforgiving world." Her voice was filled with a quiet desperation that tugged at the hearts of both her husband and her son.
Yang Zhen sighed deeply, a sense of helplessness washing over him. He looked at Yun'er with compassion and said, "It's all fate. We cannot change what has been written. All we can do is hope that Tian'er will become strong enough, capable of defending himself and those he cares about, relying on his own strength in the days to come."
The room fell silent for a few hours, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken worries. Suddenly, a servant quietly entered the hall, bowing respectfully before speaking, "Master, the old patriarch will arrive in a few minutes."
Moments later, a powerful voice echoed from outside the hall—deep, commanding, and filled with authority. "Zhen brat! Where is my grandson? I want to see him!"
The door then swung open, and a tall, commanding figure stepped into the hall. Dressed in a military general's uniform, he exuded an overwhelming aura of strength, with a powerful soul pressure radiating from him. This was the patriarch of the Yang family—Yang Shen.
Yang Tian's eyes lit up at the sight of his grandfather. He hurriedly stepped forward, bowing politely. "Grandpa," he greeted eagerly.
Yang Shen's face broke into a warm smile. "My little Tian'er, how are you? Did you miss me?"
"Yes, Grandpa," Yang Tian replied happily. "I missed you so much!"
Yang Shen ruffled his grandson's hair affectionately. "Don't worry, Tian'er. Grandpa missed you just as much. Now, come on—we're going to have lunch. I have a special gift for you. After you awaken your martial soul, I'll give it to you."
A bright smile appeared on Yang Tian's face. "Yes, Grandpa!"
The family gathered in the dining hall, sharing a meal amidst a joyful and lively atmosphere. Laughter and conversation filled the air, every member basking in the warmth of family bonds.
Once lunch was over, Yang Shen beckoned to his grandson. "Tian'er, follow me to the worship hall," he said gently. Without hesitation, Yang Tian nodded and followed his grandfather.
Upon entering the sacred hall, Yang Tian's eyes widened at the sight before him. Several figures stood in front of Yang Shen and him—mysterious and imposing, their expressions serious.
Yang Shen turned to Yang Tian. "Tian'er, follow me to the main chamber," he instructed softly.
Inside the chamber, a breathtaking sight greeted him. Floating in midair was a spear, radiating destructive energy and a fierce, ominous aura. The weapon shimmered with raw power, as if it contained the fury of countless battles.
Yang Shen explained carefully, "This spear is a family artifact—an heirloom of the Yang clan. Only direct bloodline descendants and clan masters are permitted to wield it. It recognizes its owner through bloodline connection."
He paused and added, "The origin of this spear is deeply linked to our family's bloodline. Only members of the Yang family can truly utilize its power. You've heard of the Tang Sect, haven't you?"
Yang Tian nodded. "Yes, I know. It was founded by the Sea God Tang San."
Yang Shen's eyes flickered with a hint of pride and curiosity. "And? Do you know more about it?"
Yang Tian thought for a moment, then replied, "I remember reading that during the founding of the sect, the Sea God merged four subordinate sects into what became the Tang Sect, which was initially established under the Haotian Sect. It's strange, though—most of the leaders of the Tang Sect seem to have blue silver grass as their martial soul. Yet, there's no record of any Soul Saint emerging from the sect, and the Sea God himself doesn't have descendants. Also, the four subordinate clans, despite having top-tier martial souls, seem to have vanished from history after a few generations."
Yang Shen nodded thoughtfully. "Good, Tian'er. Now listen carefully. There's a hidden truth behind these sects that many don't know."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "Actually, the four subordinate sects were betrayed by the Tang Sect. The Haotian Sect intervened in their affairs, suppressing them ruthlessly. They didn't just disappear—they were wiped out, their existence erased from history."
Yang Tian's eyes widened in astonishment. "Betrayed? Why would they do that?"
Yang Shen's expression grew serious. "They saw the four sects as threats to their power. Their suppression was brutal, and eventually, these clans were forced into extinction. The truth is, the Tang Sect's rise was built on treachery and betrayal of its allies. The sect's history is far more complicated and darker than most people realize."