Within a private chamber within Sage Dai Long's palace. The room was dimly lit, incense curled in the air like snakes. Butler An kneeled before Sage Dai Long, who sat upon a throne of black stone, his blood-red eyes glowing faintly in the shadows.
"You wished to see me, my lord?" Butler An asked respectfully.
Sage Dai Long steepled his fingers, his voice was calm yet firm as he spoke, "Tell me. What do you think of the boy?"
Butler An paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Tao is… unlike any young dragon I have seen. His body is weak, but his will—his hunger—surpasses even the most gifted of our kind. He does not simply wish to be strong… he refuses to be weak."
Dai Long nodded slightly, his gaze thoughtful. "I suspected as much. I have seen it in his eyes. A fire that refuses to die, no matter how harsh the winds."
Butler An: "You knew this before you even took him in?"
Dai Long leaned back slightly, exhaling, "I read his memories."
A brief silence fills the chamber. Butler An's expression flickers with surprise, but he quickly bows his head in understanding.
"I needed to know what he was. Whether he was truly my son… or something else entirely."
His eyes darkened slightly, the weight of what he saw lingering in his mind.
Tapping his arm rest, he said, "What I found… was a boy whose life had been stolen by fate. A boy who knew only sickness, weakness, and the slow decay of his own body. He had no strength. No power. And yet, he burned with the desire to live."
He paused, his tone growing heavier.
"And now, given this new life, he will not waste it. He will fight. Claw. Bleed. He will refuse to bow to fate a second time."
Butler An agreed, as he softly said, "That explains it."
Sage Dai Long looked at him. "Explain."
Butler An continued, "Even after I struck him with a real blow, he did not break. He did not whimper or demand mercy. He rose, despite the pain, and asked for more."
Pausing a bit, he added in a lower voice.
"He... he also reminds me of you."
Dai Long smirked faintly at Butler An's words, tapping a single finger against the armrest of his throne. The rhythmic sound echoed through the chamber, a measured pause before he finally spoke.
"Perhaps," he mused.
Then, his gaze sharpened, golden irises gleaming like molten suns.
"But potential alone is not enough. Will alone does not make a warrior."
His voice, though calm, carried the weight of absolute truth.
"He lacks technique. He lacks discipline. Most of all—he lacks a guide."
A beat of silence stretched between them, heavy and unspoken.
Then, in one fluid motion, Sage Dai Long rose from his throne, his robes flowing around him like liquid night, shifting with a presence of their own.
"You will be that guide, Butler An."
Butler An blinked. His posture stiffened slightly as he looked up at his lord, uncertainty flickering across his usually unreadable face.
"My lord?" he asked hesitantly.
Dai Long stepped forward, his presence towering, his voice carrying the weight of finality.
"I am assigning you to Tao's training and care. From this moment onward, he is your responsibility."
His words were as unshakable as stone.
"He will learn the way of battle under you. He will be forged into something worthy of my lineage. And until either you die or he does…"
Dai Long's gaze darkened.
"You shall be his aide. His silent protector from those he cannot handle."
A chilling silence fell over the room, the gravity of the command sinking in.
Then, in a quieter, more dangerous tone, Dai Long added—
"Do not go easy on him."
The unspoken meaning behind those words was clear. If Butler An held back, he would not only be failing Tao—he would be failing Dai Long himself.
For the first time in a long while, Butler An felt the full weight of the task placed upon his shoulders. He bowed deeply, lowering his head in solemn acknowledgment.
"I understand, my lord," he said, his voice steady.
A long silence stretched between them once more.
Then, Dai Long turned away, his gaze shifting toward the open balcony, where the sky churned with storm-darkened clouds. The air smelled of impending rain, heavy and electric with unspoken omens.
Butler An took that as his cue to leave. In the next breath, his figure vanished, a mere whisper in the wind.
Left alone, Sage Dai Long stepped out onto the balcony, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared into the storm.
Lightning flickered in the distance. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.
Softly, he spoke to himself—
"Let's see if the boy's fire will endure…"
A gust of wind howled through the night, rustling his dark robes.
"…or if it will be snuffed out like all the rest."
…..
/Four Months Later/
Present Day
The clash of fists and feet echoed through the stone courtyard, each impact sharper, faster, more precise than before. The jade tiles bore the scars of their past battles, but today, Tao moved across them like a phantom—his steps light, his strikes fierce.
Four months.
Four months of grueling training. Four months of relentless drills, ruthless spars, and countless bruises. Four months of being broken and reforged under Butler An's unyielding discipline.
Now, Tao was no longer the same boy who had barely survived their first match.
He darted forward, his figure a blur. His fist lashed out—only for An to tilt his head slightly, letting the strike graze past his cheek. But before the butler could counter, Tao had already twisted, his body spinning with a ruthless kick aimed for the ribs.
Fast. Too fast.
For the first time in their spars, An felt the shift. Tao's speed was no longer just impressive—it was dangerous. For the younger generation, that is. For him, Tao wouldn't be a threat until he is at least an Immortal Sovereign.
But that's then, this is now.
With a flick of his wrist, Butler An parried the kick, the force behind it causing the air to ripple. Tao landed without pause, dropping low before launching himself forward again. A sharp feint—left, right—then a knee shot toward Butler An's gut.
Butler An blocked, but Tao was already shifting. He flowed around the block like water, his elbow arcing downward toward Butler An's shoulder.
Butler An grunted in approval as he deflected the strike, feeling the small pressure behind it. It was enough to punch a hole in a foundation establishment's armored body.
Good. More than good.
Four months ago, Tao could barely react to his movements. Now, his instincts were honed, his techniques sharpened. He fought with intelligence, with adaptability.
Yet, he was still too young. Too new.
Butler An saw the moment Tao overcommitted—the slight stiffness in his shoulders, the smallest hesitation in shifting his weight.
In that instant, Butler An struck.
His fist met Tao's stomach—not with overwhelming force like their first spar, but with enough power to shake him. Tao's body lurched backward, feet skidding across the stone. He gasped, but instead of collapsing, he steadied himself.
The old Tao would have fallen. The new Tao clenched his fists, dug his heels into the ground, and raised his stance again.
He breathed heavily, bruises forming, but his eyes burned with something fierce.
Butler An let out a small, approving exhale.
Tao had lost—but this time, he had fought. Truly fought like a skilled warrior.
"Enough," An said, lowering his hands. "You've improved."
Tao wiped the sweat from his brow, his chest rising and falling. "Not enough."
An smirked slightly. "No. Not enough yet." He studied the boy before him. The once frail and inexperienced fighter had grown into something sharp—something hungry.
An turned, walking toward the courtyard's edge. "Tomorrow, we refine your counters. Rest while you can."
Tao, still catching his breath, clenched his fists. Four months, and he still hadn't won.
But he was getting closer.
And one day, he would surpass Butler An.
He swore it.
Butler An paused at the courtyard's edge, glancing back. He could see it—the fire in Tao's eyes, the hunger gnawing at him.
The boy thought he was close.
An smirked slightly. Foolish. But admirable.
"You're thinking about surpassing me," he said casually.
Tao's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing. He said nothing, but his silence was answer enough.
ButlerAn let out a short chuckle. "Good. You should aim high." He turned fully, stepping closer, his sharp gaze locking onto Tao's sweat-drenched form. "But let me be clear—you are still far, far away from reaching me."
Tao's hands clenched at his sides, but he held his tongue.
"You've grown," he admitted, folding his arms. "Your speed, your technique, your instincts—all leagues beyond what they were when you first stood before me." His eyes glinted. "But you are not there yet. Not even close."
Tao inhaled sharply, the sting of reality settling in.
"But," An continued, softer this time, "you will get there."
Tao's breath caught.
"I've trained many, Tao. Prodigies. Arrogant geniuses. Powerful soldiers who became generals. Sons of noble clans who believed their bloodline alone made them strong."
Butler An's voice grew colder. "Most of them plateaued, too blinded by their own talent to realize they had already stopped growing."
His gaze sharpened, cutting through the evening air.
"But you? You refuse to stop."
Tao swallowed, his heart hammering in his chest.
"That is why you'll surpass them. And perhaps, one day—" An's smirk returned, just slightly, "you may even surpass me."
Tao straightened, determination rekindled, but An's smirk vanished as he took a step forward, looming over him.
"But not today."
The weight of those words crashed down on Tao.
"You are still weak." An's tone was firm but not unkind. "You hesitate. You second-guess. And most importantly…" He placed a hand on Tao's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You don't yet understand what it truly means to fight."
Tao met his gaze, his jaw tight. "Then I'll learn."
An's smirk returned. "Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
He released Tao's shoulder and turned once more.
"Rest well, Tao. Tomorrow, we begin again."
And with that, Butler An walked away, leaving Tao standing alone in the courtyard, fists clenched, heart burning.
One day… but not yet.
But that was fine.
Because Tao had already decided—no matter how long it took, no matter how much pain he had to endure, he would reach the top.
And when that day came, he would no longer be the one catching his breath.
….
Tao stepped into the vast expanse of the Black Jade Palace's throne room, his heartbeat steady but his mind alert. The towering black pillars reached toward the heavens, glowing faintly with ancient inscriptions of dragonkind.
The floor beneath him was polished obsidian, smooth yet radiating an unseen pressure.
At the center of it all, upon a throne of dark stone, sat Sage Dai Long. His red eyes gleamed under the dim light, piercing through Tao the moment he entered.
Tao walked forward and knelt, his posture disciplined after months of training.
"You called for me, Father."
Dai Long studied him for a long moment, unreadable as always. Then, his deep voice echoed through the throne room.
"You have trained your body well." His gaze sharpened. "Now, it is time to train your soul."
Tao's fingers curled slightly at the weight of those words.
"You have reached the point where mere physical prowess will no longer suffice. Strength of the body is meaningless without the power to shape the heavens," Dai Long continued. He stood, the sheer force of his presence sending an invisible wave of pressure through the air.
Tao held his ground.
Dai Long nodded in approval before raising a single hand. Space twisted.
The next instant, the throne room vanished.
Tao barely had time to process the shift before he found himself deep underground—a place untouched by time, filled with ancient energy so thick it made the air heavy to breathe.
They stood before a colossal set of doors, sealed with countless chains and intricate formations glowing with dim golden light. The doors pulsed with a power far older than Tao had ever felt.
"This is a sacred vault," Dai Long said, stepping forward. "It has remained sealed for centuries, untouched by any but those of my bloodline."
Tao's eyes flickered with curiosity, but he remained silent, waiting.
Dai Long placed his palm against the center of the doors. The air trembled, the runes flaring brightly before the chains shattered like brittle glass. The doors groaned as they slowly opened, revealing a grand chamber beyond.
Inside, countless pedestals lined the vast hall, each holding a jade slip or an ancient scroll radiating terrifying energy. The sheer number of them made Tao's breath hitch.
Dai Long walked inside, motioning for Tao to follow.
"These are the cultivation techniques I have gathered over the ages. Some were taken from fallen sects, others gifted through battle, and a few… are legacies of our bloodline." His voice remained steady. "You may choose three."
Tao's eyes darted across the techniques, feeling an overwhelming pressure settle over him.
This was it.
The foundation of his path to power.
He stepped forward, heart pounding, knowing that his choice here would decide the fate of his future.
But then he stopped, calming down his heart
Tao's eyes darted across the countless jade slips and scrolls, each radiating power beyond his comprehension. Some glowed with golden brilliance, others pulsed with an ominous, suffocating presence. He could feel the energy beckoning him, tempting him with promises of strength, dominance, immortality.
His breath quickened. His fingers twitched at his side.
So many choices. So much power.
His excitement surged, a thrill unlike anything he had felt before. If he chose the strongest, if he reached for the most powerful technique here—wouldn't he rise faster? Wouldn't he dominate sooner?
Then, he stopped.
A cold realization crept up his spine.
This feeling… It's greed.
The same greed that had doomed countless cultivators in the stories he had read. The same greed that led men to devour more than they could handle and choke on their own ambition.
Tao took a slow, deep breath, forcing his heartbeat to settle. Then, he turned to his father and bowed.
"Father," his voice was steady, "I… almost lost myself." His gaze hardened with self-awareness.
"There are too many techniques here, and I nearly chose blindly, chasing after power without thought."
Dai Long watched him in silence, then nodded approvingly.
"You have done well to catch yourself," he said, his voice carrying a weight of experience. "Greed is a double-edged blade. Wield it recklessly, and it will cut deeper into you than your enemies."
Tao straightened, absorbing his father's words.
Dai Long stepped forward, his red eyes scanning the vast collection of techniques before turning back to Tao.
"When choosing a cultivation technique, power alone is meaningless," he said. "Even the most formidable techniques will cripple you if they do not suit your nature."
Tao listened intently, engraving every word into his mind.
"Your body, your bloodline, your soul—all must be in harmony with your chosen path. Choose something beyond your comprehension, and you will waste years struggling against yourself. Choose something too simple, and you will never reach the heavens."
Tao clenched his fists. "Then… how should I choose?"
Dai Long's gaze remained firm.
"Feel. Do not let greed cloud your judgment, and do not let fear restrain you. Walk among these techniques, touch their energy, and let them speak to you."
Tao exhaled slowly, his mind clearing.
His father was right.
He didn't need the strongest technique. He needed the right one.
With renewed focus, Tao stepped forward once more. This time, he would choose with wisdom, not impulse.