---
The grand ceremonial hall of the Lei Mansion stood at the heart of the complex, surrounded by pillars of black jade and golden paper lanterns that swayed gently in the morning breeze.
It was Awakening Day — the annual event where all children of the Lei bloodline who had turned six awakened their martial souls under the guidance of the Empire's spiritual masters and the Spirit Hall.
The audience was composed of lesser nobles and distant relatives of the family, seated in elevated stands wearing formal robes. The elders of House Lei sat on smaller thrones along the sides, all with serious expressions, their eyes fixed on every movement.
At the center of the hall, arranged in a semicircle on the dark stone floor, twelve spirit-conduction stones glowed faintly — black and polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected the sky above.
An old man dressed in a white robe embroidered with silver threads stood in the center of the circle. His hair was as white as snow, and his hands held a translucent blue crystal orb.
This was Grandmaster Ling Yu, a respected representative of the Spirit Hall, specially invited to conduct that year's ritual.
Seated on a higher throne behind him, the duke watched in silence.
His eyes, sharp as spears, scanned each child as their names were called — but lingered, even if just for a moment, on Lei Wuchen.
His name was the last on the list.
---
"First: Lei Zhongchu."
The six-year-old boy stepped forward confidently, chest puffed out, smiling as if he already knew what awaited him.
Grandmaster Ling Yu gave a nod and began the process.
The six black stones responded with a glow, green grooves lit up like circuits, and a soft golden mist rose, wrapping Zhongchu in a mantle of living light.
The spiritual particles floated and slowly seeped into the boy's body. Soon, a metallic shadow flared behind him — solid, imposing.
CLANG!
The image of a double-bladed axe appeared in the air. Dense. Aggressive. Imbued with primal force.
"Martial soul: Titanic Axe. Spiritual power: Level 7."
Murmurs of approval echoed. Some elders nodded slightly. Zhongchu cast a superior glance at Wuchen before returning to his place.
---
The children who followed revealed varied martial souls — swords, shields, spears. Some common, others a bit rarer. None caused major commotion. Their spiritual power levels ranged between 3 and 6.
And then, finally, the moment many had awaited — some with curiosity, others with disdain.
"Lei Wuchen."
The hall fell silent for a brief second.
Wuchen stepped forward calmly.
He wore a simple navy-blue robe, with a dark purple lotus-shaped pendant, no noble embroidery. His dark brown hair was tied back with a cloth cord. His gaze, despite his young age, was firm and observant.
He knew he was being watched. Judged. He felt the stares of pity, scorn, and speculation piercing his skin.
Still, he walked to the center of the circle and knelt down.
The duke observed him with a neutral expression. But his fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of the throne. Not from impatience — but something harder to define.
Grandmaster Ling Yu remained composed. He stepped forward.
"Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Allow the spirit energy to pass through you."
Placing his hands on the boy's back, he activated the runic circuit.
The black stones flared with intensity.
Green lines shot like lightning through the cracks in the floor.
And then — the golden mist rose.
Stronger than any seen that morning.
It wrapped around Wuchen like a silent storm. Swirling around him like stardust — alive, vibrant, dense.
The hall fell utterly silent.
The golden particles merged with his body slowly, as if hesitating. As if… recognizing something. An ancient, dormant echo — now awakening.
Then—
BOOM!
A wave of spiritual pressure burst outward from Wuchen, making the ceiling lanterns sway violently. Several spectators instinctively stepped back.
And then… it appeared.
Behind the boy, taking form as if forged by restrained thunder, a colossal silhouette began to manifest.
The Iron Tyrant's Carapace.
Black plates emerged in the air, formed from golden metallic particles. Each armor segment rotated before locking into place: wide pauldrons, short chest spikes, runic symbols carved like war scars.
It was grotesque and majestic. A true living wall.
"Martial soul..." — Grandmaster Ling Yu took an involuntary step back. His voice faltered.
"...Iron Tyrant's Carapace."
Complete silence.
The old master checked the blue crystal, still stunned.
"Innate spiritual power..." — he drew a deep breath.
"Level 10."
The air froze.
A second later, voices exploded from all sides.
"Level 10?!"
"The duke's martial soul! How?!"
"That has to be a mistake!"
"He was just the bastard child...!"
Elders rose in a frenzy. Some nobles looked at each other, alarmed. Others frowned in envy. The duke said nothing.
But the hand clenched on the throne's armrest trembled slightly.
---
Wuchen, still kneeling in the center of the circle, kept his eyes closed.
He could feel it.
The carapace. Inside him. Around him. A part of him.
It wasn't a burden.
It was… a response.
He opened his eyes slowly.
And, for the first time in a long while — he smiled.