The Child Born Beneath a Sealed Heaven**
The night Lu Chenyan was born, the sky above the mountain village did not thunder, nor did it split apart in dazzling divine light.
Instead, it fell silent.
So silent that even the wind that usually whispered through the pine forests seemed to hold its breath.
High above the clouds, unseen by mortal eyes, invisible ripples spread across the vast firmament like faint rings upon still water. They traveled far—far beyond the borders of the world, far beyond the reach of ordinary cultivators—before fading into nothingness.
No one noticed.
And that was precisely why the moment was terrifying.
Inside a modest wooden residence nestled deep within the mountains, Shen Yueyao lay on a bed of woven spirit reeds, her breathing shallow but steady. Sweat dampened her temples, yet her expression remained calm—too calm for a woman in labor.
At her side stood Lu Tianheng.
He appeared ordinary: plain robes, restrained aura, no cultivation pressure leaking from his body. To any passerby, he was nothing more than a quiet man living far from the world, cultivating little, asking for nothing.
Yet at this moment, his hands trembled.
Not with fear—but with restraint.
The space around the room was sealed by layers upon layers of formations. They were invisible, soundless, and so refined that even a peak cultivator of this world would fail to detect them unless standing directly within the threshold.
These formations were not meant to protect against enemies.
They were meant to suppress existence itself.
"Yueyao," Lu Tianheng said quietly, his voice low and steady, though his eyes were dark with tension. "The seal is ready."
Shen Yueyao nodded faintly.
Her gaze drifted toward the window, beyond the mountains, beyond the sky, as though she were looking at something infinitely distant.
"Good," she whispered. "Then… he will be able to live."
Her fingers clenched the sheets as another wave of pain passed through her body. Yet she made no sound. Not a cry, not even a gasp. It was as though pain was something she had long learned to endure.
The air within the room suddenly shifted.
Not violently—but subtly.
Lu Tianheng's pupils constricted. He raised his hand without hesitation, pressing it gently against Shen Yueyao's forehead. A strand of power flowed from him—not the power of this world, but something deeper, more ancient.
At the same time, Shen Yueyao formed a seal with her fingers.
A complex, profound mark bloomed between her brows before sinking inward, disappearing entirely.
Deep within her womb, something stirred.
For an instant—just an instant—the infant's heartbeat synchronized with the heavens.
Then—
It was cut off.
Not destroyed.
Severed.
As if a thread connecting the child to the vast cosmos had been carefully, deliberately hidden from all perception.
The moment the severance completed, Shen Yueyao cried out—not in pain, but in release.
A child's cry pierced the stillness of the night.
It was clear. Strong. Alive.
Lu Tianheng exhaled for the first time in what felt like an eternity.
He reached forward and took the newborn into his arms.
The baby was small, his skin flushed, his tiny fists clenched tightly as if grasping at something unseen. His cry did not weaken; instead, it rang with stubborn vitality.
Lu Tianheng looked down at him.
For a fleeting moment, something ancient and immeasurable flickered in his eyes—something that did not belong to a man living in a mountain village.
Then it vanished.
"He's alive," he said softly.
Shen Yueyao smiled faintly, exhaustion finally catching up to her. "Of course he is."
She lifted her gaze to the child, her eyes filled with warmth—and sorrow.
"What name?" Lu Tianheng asked.
Shen Yueyao closed her eyes for a moment, as if listening to something only she could hear.
"…Lu Chenyan," she said.
Lu.
The surname of his father.
Chenyan.
A name that carried the meaning of沉砚—a sunken inkstone.
Silent. Hidden. Enduring.
Lu Tianheng nodded. "Lu Chenyan."
The name settled into the world quietly.
And that, too, was intentional.
Outside the residence, the night passed uneventfully. No lightning fell. No beasts roared. No sect elders sensed anything amiss.
But deep within Lu Chenyan's consciousness—before he even possessed true awareness—an incomprehensible imprint was forming.
It was not an artifact.
It was not a soul technique.
It was a law.
A supreme, nameless method sealed by Shen Yueyao and Lu Tianheng together—a technique that concealed bloodline, destiny, and resonance alike.
From this moment onward, no matter how powerful the enemy, no matter how ancient the clan, no one would be able to trace Lu Chenyan through blood, fate, or karma.
Unless…
The seal itself chose to awaken.
Lu Chenyan's cries gradually softened. His tiny chest rose and fell rhythmically as he drifted into sleep, completely unaware that the heavens had already lost track of him.
Shen Yueyao watched him for a long time.
"Will he hate us someday?" she asked quietly.
Lu Tianheng shook his head. "If he survives… he won't."
"And if he doesn't?"
Lu Tianheng did not answer.
Outside, the stars resumed their cold, distant shimmer.
The world continued on, ignorant of the child who had just been hidden from it.