In a small, quiet village, there stood a modest little house warmed by the glow of an oil lamp. Inside, a man and a woman sat close together. The woman gently rubbed her rounded belly, her movements slow and careful. Beside her, the man watched with a soft smile, his eyes full of wonder.
"How is he doing?" he asked quietly.
She looked up at him, smiling with calm reassurance. "He's doing well."
Relief washed over the man's face. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, as if afraid even his touch might disturb the life growing inside her.
"I can't wait to see our child," he said, his voice trembling with joy.
She smiled back—but suddenly, her expression changed. Her hand tightened against her stomach.
"It hurts… my stomach, it hurts," she cried.
The man's face turned pale in an instant. Panic seized his heart. He rushed out of the house, shouting for help. Villagers quickly gathered, and soon the village granny arrived, her face serious but steady. She examined the woman briefly, then spoke with firm authority.
"Everyone out. Only a few girls stay inside."
The men were ushered out of the house. Outside, the night felt heavier, the silence broken only by distant murmurs.
The man paced back and forth, his hands clenched tightly. One of the villagers placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Chen, try to relax."
Chen turned to him, his eyes filled with fear and worry.
"How can I calm down?" he said. "Linger is pregnant."
He looked back at the small house, praying with every breath that both mother and child would be safe.
The minutes outside the house stretched painfully long. The oil lamp inside flickered through the thin paper window, shadows moving back and forth like restless spirits. Each muffled sound made Chen's heart jump.
He stopped pacing and clasped his hands together, whispering prayers he hadn't spoken in years."Please… keep them safe."
From inside, Linger's voice rose—strained, trembling. Chen took a step forward, but the village granny's sharp voice cut through the air."Do not come in!"
He froze. His legs felt weak, yet he forced himself to stand. The women inside moved quickly, their voices calm but firm, encouraging Linger to breathe, to hold on.
"You're strong, child," the granny said. "Just a little longer."
Time lost its meaning. Sweat rolled down Chen's temple despite the cool night breeze. One of the villagers brought him water, but his hands shook too much to drink.
Then—suddenly—the cries stopped.
The silence was unbearable.
Chen's breath caught in his throat. His mind filled with fear, with thoughts he refused to finish. Just as his knees began to give way, a sound broke the stillness.
A cry.
Small. Weak. But alive.
Chen's eyes widened. His heart slammed against his chest.
A moment later, the door creaked open. The village granny stepped out, her stern face finally softening.
"It's a boy," she said.
Chen didn't realize he was crying until warm tears blurred his vision. He staggered forward, his voice barely working.
"Linger…?"
"She's exhausted," the granny replied, "but she's safe."
Those words shattered the fear that had been crushing his chest. He let out a broken laugh, half sob, half relief.
Inside the house, Linger lay weak but smiling, her hair damp with sweat. In her arms, wrapped in a simple cloth, was their child. Chen approached slowly, as if afraid the moment might disappear.
"He looks like you," she whispered.
Chen knelt beside her, his hands trembling as he reached out, touching the baby's tiny fingers. The child curled his hand around Chen's finger, and something deep inside him changed forever.
"I'm here," Chen whispered. "I'll always be here."
Outside, dawn began to creep over the village rooftops, painting the sky with soft gold. In that small house, amid exhaustion and quiet joy, a new life had begun—and with it, a future neither of them could yet imagine.
Morning light slipped through the small window, soft and pale, brushing against the wooden floor.
The house was quiet now, the kind of quiet that comes after a storm has passed.
Linger rested against the pillows, her face tired but peaceful. The baby slept in her arms, his tiny chest rising and falling steadily.
Chen sat beside her, unwilling to move, as if leaving her side might break the fragile calm. He watched the child closely, memorizing every detail—the small nose, the faint crease of the brow, the way the baby's fingers curled instinctively.
The village granny returned, carrying a bowl of warm water and herbs. She glanced at the child and nodded with approval.
"He has a strong breath," she said. "And steady eyes. This child will live long."
Linger looked at Chen, her lips curving into a gentle smile."We should give him a name."
Chen nodded slowly. He had thought about this moment countless times, yet now his mind felt strangely empty. The weight of responsibility pressed softly on his chest—not fear, but reverence.
"I want a name that means hope," Linger said quietly. "Something that reminds him he was wanted… even before he was born."
Chen looked down at his son again. The baby stirred, letting out a faint sound, as if answering them.
"Then perhaps," Chen said after a pause, "we call him Ming."
Linger lifted her eyes. "Ming?"
"It means light," Chen explained. "The light that comes after darkness. The kind that doesn't burn, but guides."
The village granny smiled, a rare warmth in her eyes."A good name," she said. "A name with balance."
Linger whispered the name softly, testing it like a prayer."Ming…"
The baby shifted, his small hand moving, as if he recognized the sound. Linger laughed weakly, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.
"He likes it," she said.
Chen reached out and gently placed his hand over the child's chest.
"Welcome to the world, Chen Ming," he said. "You are our light."
Outside, the village stirred awake. Smoke rose from cooking fires, birds called from the trees, and life continued as it always had. But inside that small house, a name had been spoken—one that would follow the child through every step of his journey. And though neither Chen nor Linger could know it yet, that name would one day be remembered far beyond the village where it was first whispered.
The small house soon became lively.
Villagers streamed in one after another, carrying small gifts—fresh eggs, warm cloth, dried herbs, even carved wooden charms meant to protect the newborn from evil spirits.
"Mr. Chen," one of the men said cheerfully, peering at the child wrapped in soft cloth, "he looks healthy. I'm sure he will have a great future."
Chen's chest swelled with pride. He stood straighter, his voice firm yet full of warmth.
"I know my little boy. He will achieve something far beyond."
The village elder, leaning on her wooden staff, nodded approvingly.
"Chen Ming… it is a good name," she said. "It represents hope."
Linger held the baby close, her tired eyes shining. She looked at her husband and smiled softly. In that small room filled with laughter and warmth, happiness felt endless.
But suddenly, hurried footsteps broke the harmony.
A young man rushed in, slightly out of breath.
"Elder! The Heavenly Phoenix Kingdom people are here!"
The chatter died instantly.
"The Heavenly Phoenix Kingdom?" the elder repeated, frowning. "Why are they here?"
She quickly stepped outside, the villagers parting to make way. At the village entrance stood a line of armored guards bearing the emblem of a blazing phoenix. Their presence alone was enough to silence the entire street.
The elder hurried forward and bowed deeply.
"May I know why the Heavenly Phoenix Kingdom has come to our humble village?"
One of the guards stepped forward. His armor gleamed under the sunlight, his aura calm yet imposing.
"I am the Divine General. We are merely passing through," he said evenly. "However, we are weary and wish to rest in this village."
The village granny immediately bowed as well.
"It is our honor that you all stay."
The general's expression softened slightly.
"You treat us well, then. Our Empress is traveling with us."
A murmur spread among the villagers.
Behind the guards, a grand carriage approached, adorned with golden phoenix carvings. The door opened slowly, and an elegant woman stepped out.
Her presence was quiet—but overwhelming.
Her robes flowed like liquid fire, embroidered with delicate feathers. Her gaze was calm, sharp, and ancient beyond her youthful appearance.
"I hope we have not disturbed you," the Empress said gently.
The village elder bowed even lower.
"No, Your Majesty. We are honored. I will personally prepare the best house for your rest."
The Empress gave a small nod. As she walked beside the Divine General, she spoke softly so only he could hear.
"I need to cultivate tonight. Bring the resources to my chamber."
The general nodded in understanding.
The village elder guided them to the finest house in the village—simple compared to palace standards, yet clean and well-kept.
As the Empress entered the courtyard, she paused.
From a nearby house came laughter and soft voices. A small commotion of joy.
She tilted her head slightly.
"Why is it so lively here?"
The village elder smiled.
"A child was born this morning. That is why everyone is celebrating."
"Oh?" The Empress's eyes flickered faintly. "So everyone is happy for that child?"
"In our village," the elder said warmly, "every new life is a blessing. We are happy whenever a new member joins us."
The Empress observed the villagers from a distance—how they smiled without fear, how they gathered not out of obligation but affection.
"This village is very kind," she said quietly.
"It is our honor, Your Majesty," the elder replied.
The Empress turned her gaze once more toward the house where the newborn rested.
For a brief moment—
The air shifted.
A faint ripple of spiritual energy brushed against her senses.
Subtle. Pure.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"…Interesting."
Then she continued walking, her expression calm once more.
But somewhere inside that small house, Chen Ming stirred in his sleep… as if responding to something far greater than he could understand.
Inside the Chen family house, the oil lamp burned low.
Chen Linger cradled little Chen Ming in her arms, her fingers gently brushing his soft cheek. Her brows were slightly furrowed.
Chen Ting noticed.
"Linger… is something wrong?" he asked quietly.
She hesitated before answering.
"He hasn't even opened his eyes yet."
Chen Ting smiled gently, though a trace of worry flickered in his gaze.
"Linger, don't overthink. He's just a newborn. We can wait."
She nodded slowly, lowering her head to look at Chen Ming again.
Night soon fell over the village. The lanterns dimmed one by one. The villagers slept peacefully. In the Chen house, Chen Ting and Linger drifted into exhausted sleep.
And Chen Ming lay still between them.
Far beyond the village borders, shadows moved through the trees.
Several figures cloaked in black gathered beneath the moonlight.
"Remember," one of them whispered coldly, "our target is the Empress. If we kill her, we will be rewarded greatly."
The others nodded.
They began to move.
Inside the quiet house—
Chen Ming's tiny body suddenly stirred.
Slowly…
His eyes opened.
They were not dull like an infant's first gaze.
They were crystal.
Clear.
And faintly glowing.
A soft, invisible ripple spread outward from the small house, passing through walls, trees, and earth.
Outside the village—
The assassins froze.
The air trembled.
A sound erupted from the heavens—
A roar.
It was not the roar of any beast known to men.
The sky seemed to tear open as a colossal dragon formed from swirling starlight and cosmic flames. Its body flowed like galaxies in motion—deep oceanic blue mixed with blazing gold, like the universe itself twisting into shape.
Its eyes burned like ancient suns.
Before the assassins could even scream, the dragon descended.
The ground did not shake.
There was no explosion.
Only a silent wave of power.
And in the next instant—
They fell.
Their bodies collapsed lifelessly.
Their souls… shattered completely.
The dragon lifted its head, its immense form spiraling through the sky like a living constellation.
Then—
It dissolved into particles of light.
Back in the Chen house—
Chen Ming closed his glowing eyes.
And became an ordinary sleeping child once more.
At dawn, a villager walking near the forest froze in horror.
Bodies.
Black-clad figures scattered across the earth.
Word spread quickly.
Soon the Divine General of the Heavenly Phoenix Kingdom arrived at the scene. His expression darkened as he inspected the corpses.
He rushed back to the Empress.
"Your Majesty," he reported, kneeling, "it appears they are from the Heavenly Demon Sect."
The Empress's gaze sharpened.
"Do you know how they died?"
The Divine General hesitated.
"No, my lady… but their souls are completely shattered."
For the first time, a faint seriousness crossed her face.
She closed her eyes briefly, sensing the air.
"…Interesting."
After a moment, she spoke.
"We must leave as soon as possible. If we remain, this village may be dragged into greater danger."
The Divine General nodded and immediately went to prepare.
Within minutes, the royal carriage was ready.
The village elder approached, bowing respectfully.
"You are leaving, Empress?"
"Yes," she replied calmly. "I have important matters to attend to. Thank you for your hospitality."
"Safe travels, Your Majesty," the elder said.
The villagers gathered to see them off. The Empress lifted her hand gently in farewell as the carriage began to move.
But as they passed the Chen household—
She paused for the briefest second.
Her eyes lingered on that small house.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
"So it was not coincidence…"
Then the carriage rolled forward.
Far inside the house, Chen Ming slept peacefully.
Above the village, unseen by all—
For just a heartbeat—
A faint outline of a cosmic dragon shimmered in the morning sky… and vanished.
Far beyond the peaceful village, beyond mountains wrapped in mist and forests that sunlight dared not enter, stood a dark fortress carved into a jagged cliff.
Black banners fluttered in the cold wind.
This was the stronghold of the Heavenly Demon Sect.
Inside a vast hall lit by ghostly green flames, a man sat upon a throne of black stone. His robes were deep crimson, embroidered with dark sigils that pulsed faintly.
Before him—
Several jade tokens lay shattered on the floor.
Each token had once represented a living assassin.
Now, they were dust.
A kneeling disciple trembled.
"S–Sect Master… all soul tokens of the assassination squad… they broke at the same time."
Silence filled the hall.
The Sect Master slowly opened his eyes.
They were cold. Calculating.
"Broken… at the same time?" he repeated.
"Yes, Sect Master. Their souls were destroyed instantly. There was no struggle."
A faint crack formed on the armrest of the throne beneath his grip.
"No struggle?" His voice dropped lower. "The Divine General of the Heavenly Phoenix Kingdom is strong… but not strong enough to shatter souls without leaving traces."
The disciple swallowed.
"We investigated the location. There was no residual phoenix flame aura. No spiritual weapon marks."
The Sect Master stood.
A wave of oppressive aura filled the hall. The torches flickered violently.
"Something else intervened," he muttered.
Another elder stepped forward carefully.
"Could it be the Empress herself?"
The Sect Master shook his head slowly.
"If she had acted, the battlefield would be scarred with phoenix fire. This…" He looked at the powdered soul tokens. "…this is annihilation."
He walked down the steps of his throne, long sleeves trailing behind him.
"Send a shadow scout," he ordered. "Quietly. I want to know what happened in that village."
The disciple hesitated.
"Sect Master… do you believe there is another expert hidden there?"
The Sect Master's lips curved slightly.
"If there is… then we may have discovered something far more valuable than killing an Empress."
His eyes gleamed darkly.
"A being capable of shattering souls without leaving a trace… either a supreme cultivator… or something ancient."
He turned toward the open balcony of the hall. Far below, lightning crackled across the mountains.
"If it is an ancient power awakening…"
A faint smile appeared.
"Then we will claim it."
Meanwhile, miles away in the quiet village—
Chen Ming slept peacefully in his mother's arms.
But far above the clouds—
A faint ripple stirred again.
As if something in the heavens was aware…
And watching.