Something about the child continued to unsettle Bai Yan. Despite being only seven months old, his strength had already reached levels that defied logic. One day, while the baby dragon was playfully tumbling beside him, the child threw a single punch out of instinct.
The baby dragon flew several meters, hitting the trees with a loud thud, almost losing consciousness.
Bai Yan had rushed forward, horrified, her sword drawn in panic—only to find the dragon groaning and the child sitting there, blinking, unaware of what he'd done.
The dragon mother, ever watchful, had arrived in an instant. The ground trembled under her massive form.
But instead of anger, she stared deeply at the child, then slowly said, "After falling from the sky and surviving, and now this—there's something inside him… something I can't sense or understand."
She had tried to inspect his body before, attempting to scan his spiritual roots or feel for soul power. But nothing. No trace. Just… emptiness.
Yet that emptiness housed something far more terrifying.
---
Two years passed in a blink.
The child, now a toddler, stood with his small fists clenched, facing the massive dragon in a mock spar. His punches were no longer harmless flails. They cracked boulders. Uprooted trees. His strength had grown to the point that the dragon herself could no longer toy with him lightly. In terms of raw physical power, he could match her strikes.
But there was still no sign of soul power. None. Not even the faintest aura.
Bai Yan grew concerned.
In the cultivation world, power was everything. But power without soul energy was... dangerous. Unaccepted. And vulnerable. If word spread of a boy with monstrous strength but no spiritual roots, countless sects wouldn't protect him. They'd want to dissect him. Use him. Break him.
She couldn't allow that.
She stood one evening at the edge of the river behind their forest home, staring into the distance. The child sat quietly behind her, his eyes calm, watching the water flow.
"Listen," she finally said, turning toward him. "You must not show your strength to outsiders unless there is no choice. There are people who will not understand you. Who will fear you… or worse."
He didn't speak—he rarely did. But his head nodded once.
A clean, focused gesture.
Bai Yan blinked. He understands... even at two years old?
There was no laughter, no crying, no childlike tantrums. Just calm obedience and terrifying comprehension.
She walked forward, kneeling and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Starting tomorrow… we'll begin your training. Not for brute strength. For control. And if possible, we'll try to awaken your soul power. It might take time, but you can't remain like this. Not in this world."
His small hand reached up and held hers—his grip unusually steady.
The wind rustled the trees. Somewhere in the sky, thunder growled faintly.
Bai Yan looked up.
She didn't know why… but a strange unease crept into her heart.
She was raising a boy with no past, no soul power, and no explanation. A child that fell from the heavens—literally—and survived. A child that could wrestle with a dragon at two years old, and still show no sign of emotional instability or even joy.
A boy... who might not be ordinary at all.
Even the dragon was starting to keep a more careful watch.