The heavy iron key felt cold in Kaelen's hand, like a piece of frozen time.
He stood before the door of the Forbidden Study. For ten years, this door had been locked. The servants whispered that the ghost of the former Clan Leader haunted this room, pacing the floorboards at midnight.
Kaelen didn't believe in ghosts. He believed in remnants of will.
He inserted the key into the lock. It was stiff with rust. He applied a little pressure, channeling a thread of his internal energy.
Click.
The sound echoed loudly in the silent hallway. Kaelen pushed the door open.
A stale gust of wind rushed out, carrying the scent of ink, dried herbs, and old parchment. The room was dark, illuminated only by the moonlight filtering through the dusty lattice windows.
Kaelen stepped inside and lit a candle.
The flame flickered, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. The study was exactly as it had been left ten years ago. A half-finished cup of tea sat on the desk (now just dried mold). An open book lay face down. A robe was draped carelessly over the chair.
It looked as if his father had just stepped out for a moment and never returned.
Kaelen walked to the desk. He ran his finger over the thick layer of dust.
'Father,' the soul of the original Kaelen whispered within him. A wave of sadness washed over him, but the Emperor's mind remained sharp, analyzing every detail.
'The room is messy,' Kaelen noted. 'Books are pulled from the shelves. Papers are scattered. He was looking for something. Or... he was preparing for something.'
He looked at the open book on the desk. It wasn't a cultivation manual. It was a book on "Ancient Seals and Curses".
Why was the Leader of a small clan in a remote city studying ancient curses?
Kaelen sat in his father's chair. The wood creaked. He looked at the drawer. The key he found behind the painting had a second function. He slid the key into a hidden groove under the desk.
Clack.
A secret compartment in the floorboards beneath the desk popped open.
Kaelen's heart beat faster. He knelt and reached into the dark hole.
He pulled out a small, heavy wooden box. It was made of Blackwood, capable of blocking spiritual senses.
He opened the box.
Inside, there was no legendary weapon. There was no gold.
There were only three items:
A white jade pendant, cracked down the middle.
A needle made of silver bone.
A letter addressed to: "My Son, Kaelen."
Kaelen picked up the letter. His hands, usually steady enough to catch a flying sword, trembled slightly.
He unfolded the paper. The handwriting was rushed, the ink blots showing the writer's panic.
"Kaelen,
If you are reading this, then I am dead. And if you have found this key, it means the seal I placed on you has finally broken.
For years, you must have hated me. You must have hated that I never taught you martial arts. You must have hated that you were born with 'Blocked Meridians' and were called a cripple by the clan.
But, my son... you were never a cripple.
You were born with the 'Supreme Solar Body'. It is a physique so powerful, so radiant, that it would have alerted 'Them' the moment you started cultivating.
The Eclipse. They are watching the skies. They hunt anyone who threatens their order.
To save you, I had to destroy you. I used the Bone-Sealing Needle to block your meridians myself. I made you weak to keep you alive. I bore your hatred so that you could see another sunrise.
But I have run out of time. They found your mother. Now, they are coming for me.
Your mother is not dead, Kaelen. She was taken to the Endless Sea. She gave me this Jade Pendant to protect you, but I failed her.
Do not seek revenge. Live a normal life. Marry, have children, and forget the world of cultivation. That is my only wish.
— Your Father, Arion."
...
Silence.
The letter slipped from Kaelen's fingers and floated to the floor.
Kaelen sat there, frozen.
For sixteen years, the original Kaelen had lived in shame. He had been bullied, spat on, and beaten because he was "trash." He had died hating his own weak body. He had died feeling that the world was unfair.
But it was all a lie.
His weakness was a shield. His father had crippled his own son's future to save his son's life.
'You foolish man,' Kaelen whispered, his voice choking.
Tears—hot and uncontrollable—streamed down his face. These were not the Emperor's tears. These were the tears of the son who finally understood the silent burden his father had carried.
The "illness" that killed his father wasn't an illness. It was likely a battle wound from fighting the "Eclipse" assassins to keep them away from Kaelen.
"You wanted me to live a normal life?" Kaelen laughed, a sound filled with sorrow and iron resolve. "You wanted me to hide?"
He picked up the Silver Bone Needle from the box. This was the tool used to seal him.
"I am sorry, Father. I cannot grant your wish."
Kaelen's eyes changed. The sorrow evaporated, replaced by a cold, burning golden fire. The aura of the Dragon Sovereign erupted, filling the small room.
"They took my mother? They killed you? And you want me to hide?"
He crushed the Silver Needle into dust with his bare fingers.
"The Eclipse... The Order that killed me in my past life... and the Order that destroyed my family in this life."
It was fate. It was a twisted, bloody loop of fate.
"Varian," Kaelen looked up at the moon through the window, speaking the name of the God who betrayed him. "You have servants in this world too? Good."
"I will not hide. I will burn so bright that your 'Eclipse' will be blinded."
Suddenly, a soft noise came from the doorway.
Kaelen spun around, his killing intent flaring up.
"Who?"
Standing in the doorway was not an enemy. It was Uncle Hwan.
The old servant was holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup. He stood frozen, staring at Kaelen. He had felt the terrifying pressure coming from the room—a pressure that felt like a sleeping dragon waking up.
"Young... Master?" Hwan whispered, his face pale. "Who... who were you talking to?"
Kaelen took a deep breath. He reigned in his aura instantly, returning to the appearance of a calm young man.
He walked over and took the tray from Hwan's shaking hands.
"I was talking to my father, Uncle."
Hwan looked at the open secret compartment and the letter on the floor. He didn't ask what was in it. He was a servant who knew his place. But he saw the tears on Kaelen's face.
"The soup is hot," Hwan said simply, his voice gentle. "Drink it before it gets cold."
Kaelen nodded. He sat down and drank the soup. It was simple vegetable broth, but it warmed his cold insides.
"Uncle Hwan," Kaelen said after a while, putting the spoon down.
"Yes, Young Master?"
"We are going to need money. A lot of money."
"Money?" Hwan blinked. "The clan has cut our allowance. We have nothing."
"We have this house," Kaelen looked around the dusty room. "And we have... knowledge."
Kaelen stood up. He walked to the desk, dipped a brush in ink, and began to write furiously on a blank piece of parchment.
He wasn't writing a letter. He was drawing a diagram. It was a recipe for a pill—the "Meridian Cleansing Pill". But this was not the common version found in the market. This was the ancient, perfect version from the Divine Realm.
"Take this to the Violet Gold Pavilion tomorrow," Kaelen handed the paper to Hwan. "Give it only to the woman named Jiara. Tell her Kaelen is ready to discuss the 'business'."
"What is this?" Hwan asked, looking at the complex drawings.
"This," Kaelen smiled, a dangerous glint in his eyes, "is the bait to catch a tiger."
"And Uncle..."
"Yes?"
"Pack your bags. Once we have the money, we are not staying in this rotting house. We are going to buy the biggest mansion in Mist City."
Hwan's jaw dropped. "But... the Elders..."
"The Elders are merely stones on the road," Kaelen said, walking to the window and looking toward the direction of the Endless Sea, where his mother was supposedly held.
"I have a mother to save. I don't have time to play house with these ants."
Outside, the wind picked up, howling through the East Pavilion. The secrets were out. The tragedy of the past had become the fuel for the future.
The Sleeping Dragon had fully awakened. And this time, he wasn't just fighting for a throne. He was fighting for blood.