Time moved strangely in the Xiao clan's inner quarters. One moment, day blinked into night—servants scurried with bowls of milk and fresh linens; the next, the incense-smoke hush of midnight settled over everything.
Xiao Ranyu watched it all from his padded fortress, a silent observer in a world still undecided on whether he was a miracle or a fire hazard.
He was learning the rhythm—eat, sleep, cultivate, and occasionally set something on fire. His body remained laughably small, but beneath the soft skin and flailing limbs pulsed something real: heat, power, progress. Even in sleep, the system worked, steadily feeding his core with flame qi until his bones felt like living kindling.
Every night, he drifted into that inner sea: golden light, blue fire, the Flame Mantra's orbiting runes, and the Bone Chilling Flame purring at its heart. Meditation came as naturally as breath. Bit by bit, his Eternal Flame Vassal Body refined itself—stronger, faster, hungrier.
He liked the stillness. But peace, he'd already learned, never lasted long.
---
The morning after his latest "incident"—scorched silk, screaming maids, two smoldering towels—Ranyu woke to hushed voices just outside the nursery.
"He's glowing again," whispered one servant, peeking in like he might erupt.
"Don't get too close," another hissed. "They say he sets things on fire just by looking."
Ranyu rolled his eyes inwardly. The only thing he was burning right now was his patience.
He stretched—a helpless tangle of limbs and squeaks—and pulled up the system panel.
---
[Host Status]
Age: 6 days
Cultivation: None (0.09% → 0.14%)
Physique: Eternal Flame Vassal Body (Semi-awakened)
Technique: Flame Mantra (Yellow-tier, Evolvable)
Heavenly Flame: Bone Chilling Flame (Dormant, Stable)
Dou Qi Core: Forming
Passive Cultivation: Active
---
Six days old, and already drawing qi faster than some clan children did in a year. He almost felt bad for the other prodigies in training.
Almost.
---
By midday, the nursery was a miniature battlefield of toddler drama and failed training. Xiao Yan—scowling and sticky with plum juice—stalked the crib's edge, muttering about monsters and how "babies shouldn't smell like roasted peppers."
Xiao Diao, the oldest, set up river stones for palm strikes. "Strength comes from repetition," he declared, smashing his hand down like a minor deity. The stones barely budged.
Xiao Li watched from the shade. "You'll break your hand before you break the rock, idiot."
Ranyu tuned them out, feeling the heat thrum gently in his belly.
Then the system stirred.
---
[Notice: Flame Mantra and Eternal Flame Vassal Body show 99% compatibility. Fusion possible.
Outcome: High-level technique evolution. Risk: Negligible.]
---
Fusion?
Even now, it gave him pause. The system, usually so clinical, almost sounded… eager.
Do it.
Heat surged—golden light wrapping around his bones, the Bone Chilling Flame leaping like a caged dragon. For a heartbeat, everything shrank to a point of white-hot fire in his dantian.
Then silence. A deep, satisfying breath.
---
[New Technique Acquired: Sovereign Flame Scripture (Heavenly-Tier, Unique)]
Effect:
• Passive flame qi absorption
• Technique evolves with body refinement
• All dou qi inherits Heavenly Flame traits
• Cultivation speed doubled
---
Ranyu blinked. The air shimmered around him, faint heat warping sunlight. He felt… bigger. Not in size—he was still, regrettably, a baby—but in presence, like his bones had turned to molten gold.
He was so caught in the glow of power, he missed the ominous rumble in his gut.
Too late.
BRRRRRRAAAPPPPPP.
The sound was cartoonish. The smell—legendary. A mix of burnt eggs and sandalwood swept across the room like divine punishment. Xiao Yan shrieked and dove behind a pillow. Diao and Li gagged and fled, tripping over each other.
A servant burst in, armed with a bucket and a prayer.
"He's self-combusting again!"
"No, he's just—oh heavens, what is that smell?"
Ranyu wished, for the thousandth time, he could just disappear. The system offered no sympathy.
---
[Event recorded in Host Memory Log.]
Traitor.
---
By evening, the chaos had faded. His mother, serene as ever, cradled him against her shoulder and sang lullabies that tugged at something old in his soul.
"You're a quiet one," she murmured. "But strong. I can feel it."
He wanted to tell her she was right—and wrong. Strong, yes. Quiet? Only on the outside.
He heard her heartbeat, warm and steady. And with it came a pang of urgency. Eight years. That's what the story gave her.
Not this time. He pressed closer, making a silent vow.
Outside, the sky bled into violet. The Sovereign Flame Scripture spun, weaving qi into bone and breath. The Bone Chilling Flame pulsed with contentment.
He'd come from a world of rain and regret, where hope was rented by the hour.
Now he was a sun—small, voiceless, but rising.
And this time, he'd decide what he became.
Sleep tugged at him, and he let go, flame cradled in his core, warming the road ahead.
The future was written in fire. And he was ready to burn.