The City Lord's private chamber was suffocating despite its grandeur.
Ornate tapestries depicting celestial battles hung from ceiling to floor, jade sculptures worth fortunes stood on pedestals of rare wood, and spiritual formations hummed with protective energy along the walls.
None of this opulence mattered to Shén Dú as he knelt on the cold marble, his wrists bound behind his back with spirit-restraining rope.
Before him stood City Lord Wei, a man whose handsome features had hardened into a mask of disgust and disappointment. Beside him stood Mei Lan, her delicate beauty unmarred by the coldness in her eyes.
"Yellow," City Lord Wei spat the word like poison. "After all our investment, all our resources... your talent is merely yellow."
Shén Dú kept his gaze on the floor. "My Lord, I-"
"Silence!" The City Lord's voice thundered through the chamber. "Do you understand what this means? We positioned you as a future pillar of our city, as a worthy husband for my daughter. The other noble families have been watching. And now? Now we learn you're barely above average."
Mei Lan stepped forward, her movements graceful as flowing water. Her pink robes fluttered around her slender form, the embroidered plum blossoms seeming to dance with each step.
"Father," she said, her voice soft and melodious, "perhaps we shouldn't be too harsh. After all, Shén Dú has... other qualities."
The gentleness in her tone sparked hope in Shén Dú's chest, but when he raised his eyes to meet hers, he found no warmth there. Only the coldness of calculation.
"Other qualities?" The City Lord scoffed. "What use are charm and looks without power? In this world, only the strong survive. Only the talented prosper."
"I understand, Father." Mei Lan lowered her eyes demurely. "It's just... there's the matter of my condition to consider."
Shén Dú's heart raced. Their secret - the pregnancy they had kept hidden for three weeks - would now be revealed. Perhaps this would change everything. The City Lord couldn't possibly cast out the father of his grandchild.
City Lord Wei's expression darkened further. "Yes. That unfortunate situation."
"Unfortunate?" Shén Dú couldn't stop himself. "Lord Wei, I love your daughter. I will care for her and our child with everything I have. My cultivation talent may be average, but my dedication is not. I will work twice as hard as any-"
"Your dedication?" The City Lord laughed, a hollow sound devoid of humor. "Do you think dedication alone will elevate you to the Upper Realms? Do you think hard work will compensate for mediocre spiritual roots?"
Mei Lan's lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Father, I believe I have the solution we discussed."
She clapped her hands twice, and a servant entered carrying a small jade box on a silk cushion. The box hummed with spiritual energy so dense that Shén Dú could feel it from across the room.
"What is that?" he asked, dread pooling in his stomach.
"The Womb Acceleration Pill," Mei Lan answered, her voice still melodious but now tinged with ice. "A treasure from the Upper Realms."
Shén Dú's blood ran cold. He had heard whispers of such pills - dangerous concoctions that forced a fetus to develop in hours rather than months. But they came with terrible costs.
"No!" He lurched forward, only to be yanked back by the guards flanking him. "Mei Lan, you can't! Those pills drain the child's lifeforce! They hamper cultivation potential! Our baby will-"
"Will what?" she interrupted, her mask of gentleness slipping for just a moment. "Inherit your mediocre talent? Perhaps that's for the best."
The City Lord nodded to the servant, who opened the box. Inside lay a pill that glowed with an unnatural blue light.
"Mei Lan, please," Shén Dú begged, struggling against his restraints. "If you ever loved me at all-"
"Love?" For the first time, genuine emotion flashed across her face - amusement. "You actually believed that? How... quaint."
In that moment, something shattered inside Shén Dú.
The illusion he had built around their relationship crumbled, revealing the cold truth beneath.
She had never loved him. He had been a tool, an investment, nothing more.
"The child will be born today," the City Lord declared. "Its connection to my daughter will be severed. You and your spawn will be removed from this city, and this unfortunate chapter will be closed."
"You can't do this!" Shén Dú roared, surging to his feet with such force that one of the guards stumbled back.
Mei Lan took the pill from its box, her fingers delicate against the glowing surface. "I can and will. The child of a talentless commoner holds no value to me, but as my blood, it deserves at least the chance to live."
"Our child deserves better than this! Better than you!" Shén Dú lunged forward, breaking free from one guard's grip.
His body might have average cultivation potential, but years of physical training plus his own body being born with great strength – one of the reasons he was believed to be talented before the aptitude test – allowing him to break free.
He knocked aside another guard, his eyes fixed on the pill in Mei Lan's hand. If he could just reach her in time-
"Restrain him!" the City Lord commanded.
Three more guards rushed forward, but Shén Dú's desperation gave him strength. He slammed his shoulder into one, sending the man crashing into a jade statue.
Another came at him with a spirit blade, but Shén Dú ducked and rammed his head into the guard's stomach.
"Stop her!" he shouted, as if anyone in this room would help him. "That pill will destroy our child's future!"
Mei Lan watched the chaos with mild interest, making no move to swallow the pill yet. It was as if she wanted him to see his own helplessness, to understand how powerless he truly was.
"If they have their father's blood," she said coldly, "then it won't matter. They are virtually talentless anyway."
'They?' The word registered dimly in Shén Dú's mind as he fought. Did she know something he didn't?
With a roar of pure rage, he broke through the circle of guards and lunged toward Mei Lan. For a brief moment, victory seemed possible - his fingers were inches from the pill.
Then pain exploded in his chest. One of Mei Lan's personal guards - a woman with eyes like arctic ice - had appeared between them, her palm striking his sternum with cultivation-enhanced force.
Shén Dú flew backward, crashing into the wall with such impact that the stone cracked. Blood sprayed from his mouth as he collapsed to the floor, his vision swimming with black spots.
Before he could recover, two guards seized his arms, wrenching them behind his back.
They forced his face into the marble floor with such violence that his forehead split open. Blood streamed into his eyes, mixing with tears of rage and despair.
"You'll regret this," he gasped, the taste of copper filling his mouth. "I swear by heaven and earth, you'll pay for this betrayal!"
For just a moment - so brief he might have imagined it - something like uncertainty flickered in Mei Lan's eyes. Then it vanished, replaced by cold resolve.
She stepped forward, her robes whispering against the floor. With deliberate slowness, she raised her hand and slapped him across the face, the crack of it echoing in the chamber.
"You forget yourself," she said, her voice no longer melodious but sharp as a blade. "You are a mere orphan commoner who isn't even truly talented. You have no right to speak to me this way."
Shén Dú spat blood at her feet. "I was a fool for ever loving you. A blind fool who couldn't see your true vile nature."
Something dangerous flashed in her eyes. "Hold him up," she ordered. "Make him watch."
The guards yanked him to his knees, forcing his head up. Mei Lan stood before him, the pill balanced on her palm.
"Our time together wasn't entirely without pleasure," she said, her voice almost wistful. "But arrangements like ours are always temporary. Surely you understood that?"
Without waiting for an answer, she placed the pill on her tongue and swallowed.
"No!" Shén Dú's scream tore at his throat. "NO!"
For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Then Mei Lan gasped, her hands flying to her stomach.
A blue glow spread beneath her skin, pulsing. Her face contorted in pain, but she remained standing, her eyes locked with Shén Dú's.
"It begins," the City Lord said, watching his daughter with cold interest.
Mei Lan's stomach began to swell visibly, stretching the fabric of her robes as weeks of pregnancy compressed into minutes.
She gritted her teeth but made no sound, her pride apparently stronger than her pain.
Shén Dú struggled wildly against his captors, but his strength was fading. The blow to his chest had done more damage than he'd first realized, and each breath brought fresh agony.
"Stop it," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "Please, it's not too late."
But it was. Mei Lan's belly now protruded as if she were six months pregnant, the blue glow intensifying beneath her skin.
Her face had gone pale, sweat beading on her forehead despite her attempts to maintain composure.
Then she cried out - a sound of surprise - despite her suspicions, rather than pain. "Two," she gasped, looking at her father. "I feel two lives."
Twins. The realization hit Shén Dú like another physical blow. Not one child but two were being forced into premature birth, their development unnaturally accelerated, their potential forever diminished.
"All the better," the City Lord said, his tone full with mockery. "The line continues with two branches instead of one."
The next few minutes were a nightmare Shén Dú knew would haunt him forever.
Mei Lan's belly continued to expand until she looked ready to deliver, and then - in a flash of blue light - two tiny forms materialized before her, hovering in the air for a moment before gently floating to the floor.
Two infants, impossibly small yet perfectly formed, lay crying on the cold marble. A boy and a girl, their tiny fists waving in the air, their voices raised almost as if in protest at their unnatural entry into the world.
And Mei Lan... her belly had returned to its original flatness, her robes hanging perfectly once more. She touched her stomach with wonder, then looked down at the children with detached curiosity.
"The pill worked perfectly," she said, her voice steady once more. "And as promised, my virginity is restored."
Something primal and violent surged through Shén Dú at those words. With strength born of pure hatred, he tore free from one guard's grip and lunged forward.
"You monster!" he roared. "They're our children! YOUR CHILDREN!"
The female guard moved again, faster than his eye could track. This time her strike was precise, targeting a pressure point that sent him crashing into darkness.
----------------------------
Consciousness returned slowly, bringing with it the sound of wooden wheels on rough ground and the swaying motion of a caravan.
Shén Dú's eyes fluttered open to darkness. Night had fallen, and he was lying on the floor of a covered wagon, his hands bound before him.
His body ached everywhere. His chest felt as if it had been crushed, his head pounded, and dried blood crusted his face. But physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow agony in his heart.
A small sound cut through his thoughts - a whimper, then another. With effort, he pushed himself up to sitting position and saw them: two small bundles placed at the far end of the wagon, wrapped in simple blankets.
His children. His twins.
Before he could move toward them, a voice spoke from the shadows.
"You're awake. Good. We've nearly reached our destination."
A guard sat opposite him, his face half-hidden in darkness. Not one of the City Lord's elite, just a common soldier tasked with this final duty.
"Where are you taking us?" Shén Dú asked, his voice a rasp.
"The northern border. Beyond that lies the Snow Ghost Forest. The City Lord has decreed that you be left there."
The Snow Ghost Forest. A death sentence without the honesty of an execution. No one survived those frozen wastes for long, especially not a wounded man with two newborns.
"He said it was mercy," the guard continued, sounding almost apologetic. "In respect to your past service. He could have ordered your execution."
"Mercy," Shén Dú repeated, the word bitter on his tongue. "Is that what he calls it?"
'As if, this poor bastard will be killed too later. Not as if telling him that will make any good, he won't- no, can not help me. Not with how well I know that bastard Lord.'
The wagon lurched to a stop. Outside, voices called to each other, and footsteps crunched on what sounded like snow.
The back flap of the wagon opened, letting in a blast of frigid air and the sight of a starlit sky above a vast white landscape. Two more guards stood there, their breath fogging in the cold.
"Time to go," one said, reaching in to grab Shén Dú by the arm.
They dragged him from the wagon, his legs buckling beneath him as they dropped him onto the snow. One guard cut the ropes binding his wrists while another placed the two bundled infants beside him. The twins' cries grew louder in the bitter cold.
"The City Lord's message," the first guard said, his tone formal. "For your years of service and in memory of what once was, your life is spared. But you are henceforth banished from the Jade Prosperity City and all its territories. Should you return or tell anyone of who their mother is, your life is forfeit."
With that, they turned and climbed back into the wagon. The driver cracked a whip, and the horses lurched forward, pulling the caravan away into the night, leaving three souls alone in the endless white.
Shén Dú lay face-down in the snow, the cold seeping into his wounds, numbing the pain. The cries of his children pierced the silence of the wasteland, desperate and frightened.
He should move. He should gather them to him, try to warm them, try to find shelter.
But for a moment, he couldn't. The weight of betrayal, of loss, of shattered dreams and broken promises held him down more effectively than any restraints.
And then - something strange happened.
It wasn't gradual. It was like a dam breaking, a flood of memories suddenly pouring into his mind. Another life. Another world. Another name.
Samael
He remembered Earth. He remembered technology and science, family dinners and classes. He remembered his parents - their warmth, their support, their unconditional love.
He remembered dying - a stupid accident, a moment's inattention crossing a street.
And he remembered who he had been: cautious, calm, analytical, grateful.
Someone who valued honesty and logic above all else. Someone who sought pleasure and avoided pain not simply out of hedonism but because that was, what life was about.
The memories didn't erase his pain or his rage. But they provided... perspective. Context. A framework for understanding his situation that went beyond the immediate trauma.
Shén Dú - no, Samael - Shén Dú - both of them, the same person - pushed himself up from the snow.
Blood from his poorly bandaged wounds had seeped through, staining the white ground crimson. But he felt strangely calm.
'How foolish I was… Really? Love? Romance? When you're this weak? What is wrong with you- no what is wrong with me? If I remembered before, never would I have been so stupid.' He thought to himself during this strange calmness.
He then noticed once more the cries surrounding him.
He almost on instinct crawled to them – towards his children, gathering them into his arms. They were so small, so fragile, their faces red from crying and cold.
With gentleness, he tucked them against his chest, channeling his Qi to warm his core temperature despite his injuries.
"Shhh," he whispered, rocking them slightly. "I'm here. Father is here."
Their cries softened as they felt his warmth, their tiny bodies pressing against him seeking comfort.
Looking down at them - really looking for the first time - he felt something unexpected – unexpected to his past him - bloom in his chest: a fierce, protective love that transcended all calculation, all strategy.
He had no resources, no shelter, no allies. By all logical measures, their chances of survival were minimal. Yet the his mind was already working, planning, considering options.
He already burned with a determination that would not be extinguished.
Rising carefully to his feet, cradling his children close, he looked out across the endless expanse of snow.
Somewhere to the south, beyond this frozen wasteland, lay another city. It would be a journey of weeks, perhaps months, with two newborns and no supplies.
But he would make it. They would survive.
He gazed down at them, down upon his son's fierce eyes, and his daughter's cute face, and almost smiled.
"Li Wei," he said softly to his son, the name coming to him with certainty – he himself as an orphan not having a family name and refusing to name them after that bitch.
"Li Na," he continued, looking at his daughter. "I name you for strength and elegance. For what you will become, not how you came into this world."
He took a step forward, then another. His bloodied footprints marked the snow behind him, a crimson trail in the white emptiness.
"I don't know why I feel this way," he whispered to his children as they quieted against his chest. "Perhaps this is the unconditional love fathers are supposed to feel. But I promise you this: I will be worthy of you. I will protect you. You will not suffer for your mother's cruelty or your grandfather's ambition."
The calm that had settled over him when his memories returned remained, not erasing his pain or his rage, but channeling it, focusing it.
He would survive. He would thrive. He would conquer and rule and walk the path to eternal life – as is expected of such a world. As is the ambition of all who know power.
And he would bring his children with him.
"I promise," he said to the silent, snowy world. "I promise."
And with each step, his bloody footprints marked his oath in the endless white