The breeze in the Azure Glazed Courtyard carried the light, crisp scent of autumn, ruffling the elegant leaves of the spirit-veined magnolia trees as a group of maids scurried silently past a large, dragon-etched bronze gate. Birds chirped melodically in the distance, their tunes light-hearted and sharp, as if nature itself were celebrating.
Inside the estate's great ancestral hall, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
"He's coming! He's finally coming!"
Sword Douluo Chen Xin stood like a statue of anxious steel, arms crossed, yet his legs were bouncing with every passing second. He looked ready to either draw his sword or deliver the baby himself.
"You say that every five minutes," Bone Douluo Gu Rong snorted from his perch beside the brazier, sipping tea. "You realize, don't you, that the child won't arrive faster just because you're about to wear a trench in the floor?"
"This is Ning Fengzhi's child," Sword Douluo said with an edge of reverence. "Our Clan Master. The first heir to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan in twenty-three years. This is history!"
"History, my foot," Gu Rong replied with a chuckle. "When I was born, lightning struck the hill behind the family farm. My uncle claimed it meant I'd be great. Know what it really meant? That we had to rebuild the chicken coop."
Chen Xin rolled his eyes, but a small smile broke across his face.
Despite their constant bickering, the Sword and Bone Douluos were inseparable. Their loyalty to the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan ran deep, and while they rarely agreed on anything, they shared a brotherly love for their Clan Master, Ning Fengzhi.
"I swear, if the child is born with a blade-shaped spirit, I win the bet," Sword Douluo murmured, eyes gleaming.
"Ha! And if it's shaped like a spine or hammer, I'll be accepting your apology in writing. With seals."
---
Elsewhere in the estate, past the carved jade pillars and silk-hung corridors, Ning Fengzhi sat outside the birthing chamber, trying very hard to look calm. It wasn't working.
His usually composed demeanor was cracking like thin porcelain. His hands were clasped tightly, his breathing controlled but shallow, and the only sound breaking his silence was the occasional nervous tap of his boot against the marble floor.
From inside, soft cries and muffled instructions floated out. Then suddenly—a sharp infant wail.
Ning Fengzhi was on his feet before he realized it.
Moments later, the doors opened. A midwife emerged, her face glowing. "Clan Master, Lady Yanxi has given birth to a healthy baby boy. Both mother and child are well."
The words hit Fengzhi like a spiritual cleansing pill. He inhaled deeply, nodded, and entered.
Li Yanxi lay on the satin-draped bed, her face pale but radiant, hair damp from labor. In her arms, wrapped in sky-blue silks, was the child. Their child.
He had a tuft of flame-colored hair at his crown. His eyes were closed, his little mouth puckered in protest at the cold air.
Fengzhi stepped forward, voice catching in his throat. "He's... perfect."
Yanxi smiled faintly. "Of course he is. He has your calm... and hopefully not your terrible singing voice."
Fengzhi chuckled, brushing her hair from her face. "You've given me more than I ever dreamed of, Yanxi."
---
The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan was no ordinary sect. It stood proudly as one of the three upper sects of the Douluo Continent, famed for its unique support-type martial spirit and unmatched wealth.
Their estate in the west of the continent spanned rolling green hills, pristine lakes, and ancient pagodas linked by floating bridges. The clan's financial power stemmed from:
Spirit Tool Trade: Leveraging Ning Fengzhi's foresight, they developed and sold advanced spirit communication devices and amplifiers.
Rune-Enchanted Artifacts: Thanks to alliances with crafters like Li Yanxi, their smithies produced high-tier runed accessories that boosted martial spirit control.
Cultivation Academies: The clan sponsored private schools across five provinces, training young nobles and earning lifetime alliances.
Spirit Herb Commerce: With exclusive access to certain rare herbs, they controlled portions of the refining market.
This wealth was not flaunted with arrogance but managed with shrewdness and diplomacy. Fengzhi had always ruled with a balance of strength and grace—which made him both admired and envied.
But today, he was not a patriarch. He was a father.
---
Later that night, a feast was held in the inner courtyard under lantern light.
"So what's his name?" Gu Rong asked, chewing on roast duck. "Don't tell me it's another 'Feng' or 'Rong' variation."
Fengzhi stood and raised a cup of plum wine. "His name is Ning Zhen. The character 'Zhen' (镇) means to forge, to anchor, to calm the waves. A child of flame and spirit."
Yanxi added softly, "And a beacon for our clan's future."
"Hmph," Chen Xin muttered, grinning. "Zhen. It doesn't sound anything like 'Sword'."
"Nor does it sound like 'Bone'. But give it time. He might grow to prefer old, brittle things," Gu Rong shot back.
"Or sharp, handsome ones," Chen Xin said, raising a brow.
Yanxi laughed. "You two are worse than twins."
"We just want the boy to grow up strong," Gu Rong said.
"Strong and strange, if you two keep babysitting," Fengzhi sighed.
The laughter that followed rose into the evening air, mixing with the crackle of lanterns and the scent of fire lilies blooming across the courtyard.
Ning Zhen, still wrapped in silks and resting in his mother's arms, stirred slightly. His tiny fingers flexed once.
A faint, imperceptible ember flickered on his palm—a sign of the forge-fire spirit sleeping within.
The Douluo Continent would remember this day.
The day a flame-touched child was born to a clan of glass and steel.