The stadium erupted again. One hundred thousand people clapped wildly, applause thundering like waves crashing on shore.
Everyone could see it clearly now—this was the moment when Sophia, the so-called goddess of talent, the female genius who would later make the world exclaim in awe, truly began to rise.
Her first spark of value had appeared—it was a determination to shine as soon as possible.
Her first long-term plan had taken root—to see her father as the enemy of her life.
Sophia's image at that time was like the moonlight descending from the heavens, faint but untouchable, destined to rise higher and higher until she illuminated the entire sky.
And Victor? He was the soil beneath her feet—unchanging, dark, without a trace of brilliance.
Sophia's young voice echoed from memory:
"It's time to end."
"Next time, I will rise!"
"It begins with the song beneath the sea."
"No one can stop my talent anymore."
"Singing, writing, music, acting, literature—everything—"
"Father, the enemy of my life, you will never win against me again…"
---
From that moment onward, at only five years old, Sophia began her climb.
The father remained behind in the slums, always wandering in the dark nights, always searching in vain for the meaning of life.
On screen, the barrage of online comments exploded at once—Zhalang, Douyin, and every streaming platform roared with excitement.
"The goddess has risen!!!"
"This was the moment she saw her father as her life's enemy—and from then on, she rose astonishingly!"
"I'm shaking! To see such ambition in a little girl—it's unreal."
"Her father can't possibly imagine how strong his daughter would become. He was just an uneducated man, trapped at the bottom, with no culture and no talent."
"Yes! This is the point where Sophia truly left behind her broken family. She began her dazzling rise right here!"
On stage, Sophia had already steadied herself. The aura surrounding her silenced all the noise, leaving only her self-confidence to amaze the world.
---
But time, relentless and cruel, continued its ticking. The hourglass of fate dropped its grains one by one.
It was the end of her fourth year.
Sophia was four years old and twelve months—the very last day before she turned five.
On that day, Victor told her she would never rise.
On that day, Victor was working as a courier, sorting packages until two in the morning. Exhausted, he dragged his frail body home.
He walked alone along the broken streets of Iron City. The lamps were dim, the air foul, litter scattered everywhere.
He passed drunks sprawled on the sidewalk.
He passed teenagers brawling under a broken streetlight.
He passed despair after despair.
Until finally, he reached his neighborhood—a cluster of twelve crumbling buildings, dark as a graveyard.
And then, quietly, he began to hum.
---
A song.
His voice was hoarse, deepened by years of suffering, yet it carried haunting beauty. The lyrics were simple, raw:
Scattered moonlight through the clouds,
Hidden far away from crowds…
Scales of the sea,
Waves wet the white dress…
The waves wash the blood,
Delusions to warm you…
Listen to the sea's deep cries,
The soul is silent, no one wakes you up.
It was a song of sadness, of exhaustion, of a man crushed by the weight of life yet still yearning.
Victor's voice was very good. The years of hardship had carved sorrow into it, turning it into something achingly beautiful.
And here, in this forgotten corner of the city, this melody came out for the first time.
---
In the stadium, the camera panned. At the very end of the seats, a frail man sat quietly.
Victor.
He smiled faintly, pulling out a worn handkerchief to wipe the blood that seeped from his forehead. It was hematohidrosis—an incurable condition where stress forced blood through the pores.
He wiped it away calmly, eyes red, and looked up at the big screen, where a younger version of himself sang in front of those twelve broken buildings.
Now in his fifties, the older Victor couldn't help but hum along with his thirty-year-old self.
"Scattered moonlight pierced…through clouds…"
But this time, his voice trembled—because he was crying.
---
Victor was, in truth, a traveler through time.
After the divorce, he had accidentally discovered something incredible. In 2005, there was no popular literature, no widely known songs. He could use that knowledge, yet he was already terminally ill.
So he made a decision.
He would use his last years to nurture his daughter.
Not just to make her independent, but to give her ambition so great it would crush every obstacle.
To give her more than he ever had.
Even as his heart weakened, even as his body collapsed, none of it mattered. The pain of over ten years gnawed at him, but he endured.
All he wanted was to hear his daughter call him "Father" one last time.
Dying men are not angry—they are calm. They remember the people they love most. They think only of them.
---
Back on the show stage, the revelation detonated like a bomb.
The audience couldn't believe what they were hearing. The frail man's song—it was Victor's creation!
But according to history, it should have been months before Sophia sang this song publicly.
How could this be?
---
Charles, standing at the side, staggered a step back. His mind was reeling.
"Is he really a genius?" he whispered.
But then he shook his head wildly. "No… no, that's impossible…"
---
Sophia's confidence cracked. Her beautiful eyes lost their shine as she watched her father's image.
There he was, at the gate of the crumbling community, under the shadow of twelve ruined buildings, singing with a hoarse but steady voice.
The sound was like the December wind—cold, lonely, yet stubbornly enduring.
Victor's face was terrifyingly thin, his body barely seventy pounds. The whiteness of his skin made him look almost ghostly, though his features were still refined.
The sight silenced Sophia.
---
She thought back to how she had composed this song herself. At least, that's what she had always believed.
So why… why was this man singing it before her?
Could it be like before, with "Insect Flying"? Was he helping her again, silently, without asking for thanks?
---
The thought stabbed her heart.
If this man had not been sick… what heights would he have reached?
Would he have been the dazzling one instead?
She clenched her fists.
Even if she lost two songs to him, she was still Sophia—the dazzling, unstoppable genius.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, "even if this song is yours, the gamble of this life is still mine."
She lifted her chin.
From the moment she decided to study, to work harder, to shine brighter, she had sworn never to show weakness. She would crush every opponent. She would never admit defeat.
But now, staring at this thin, dying man, Sophia hesitated for the first time.
In the gamble of life between the two of them—who would win?
-------------------------------------------------------
Get membership in patreon to read more chapters
Extra chapters available in patreon
patreon.com/Dragonscribe31
----------------------------------------------------- 1