*swoosh*
*swoosh*
*swoosh*
"Ninety-eight, Ninety-nine, One-Hundred!"
A young boy's strained and tired voice rang out in an open courtyard as he practiced his swordsmanship.
Said courtyard was a hundred feet wide and a thousand feet long.
There were training dummies along the right side of the black walls. And grey stone racks filled with many different types of weapons leaned against the left side of the walls, just waiting to be picked up.
There were swords, sabers, spears, axes, and even halberds all neatly arranged on the stone racks.
This wasn't all.
On another side was a very large boulder filled with many marks that looked to have been made with weapons that had very sharp edges.
And right in front of the boulder, was the form of a young boy completely shirtless. He only had a pair of regular training gear on. Just a simple pair of grey cotton pants that fit his thighs and legs neatly.
He had a pair of black training pumps on his feet.
His long white hair was tied in a ponytail so that it would fly in his face.
Currently, the young boy was in a simple sword stance that held the blade above his head.
And he would swing downwards, over and over again.
"A hundred more swings young master Tao. Your father gave you a deadline and we have to meet it in time. Unless you want the other young dragon prodigies to humiliate you when the tournament begins."
An older man's voice lightly joked.
"I've already done this four-hundred times this morning! Can I not move on to fist and palm moves now, Butler An?" Tao snipped in annoyance, as he was truly tired. He had been out here for the past ten hours, with just ten-minute breaks between his practice.
Butler An chuckled as he said, "Repetition is key, young master, and you must push through this process. You will thank me and your father later on."
Though Butler An said this, the truth was that he was inwardly astounded, 'The young Master has only done the basics, but there are already traces of sword aura! Terrifying, truly terrifying!"
"He's only ten years old, but has the maings of a true supreme prodigy! No wonder the master told me not to take it easy on him."
Butler An was a Heveanly Venerate, so his keen eyes and mind caught things Tao didn't even feel or see.
And at the moment, with each swing Tao did, some small arcs would flash in and out of existence.
These small arcs were none other than sword aura, the base formation of what would lead to sword intent! Tao just needed a bit more practice to fully polish the budding sword aura.
And then once he reaches that wall, a certain change will take place in his mind, and to break through that wall, he will need to have a strong mind, a clear heart, and an unshakable will.
"I'll have to make sure to temper his mind and body properly. He will need it when the time comes."
As Butler An was thinking to himself, Tao paused his training and said, "I'm taking ten."
Butler An nodded and said, "Alright young master, and since you have diligently practiced the basics of swordmanship I'll grant a moment of respite."
Tao beamed in happiness as he nodded and ran over to a small stool that stood beside a green jade table. On the table was food and water for him to eat and drink every time he took a break.
As Tao sat down, he immediately began eating. He could not waste any time, he didn't have it thanks to his drill instructor Butler An.
Standing at eight feet seven inches, Butler An stood slightly hunched wrapped in a simple blue robe, and may look like the sweetest old man that you'd ever meet.
But Tao knew better, in this place his new home. Anyone could destroy a planet with a flick of their wrist. And Uncle An although he looked sweet was truly terrifying in his own right.
He had an ugly scar that ran down the left side of his face like a bolt of lightning.
It was Butler An's eyes.
Cold. Unblinking. Devoid of anything resembling normal sight. Where pupils should have been, there were only two pale white orbs, each pierced in the center by a single, minuscule black dot. And he never blinked.
Tao shuddered every time their gazes met.
Determined to ignore his ever-watchful tormentor, Tao focused on his food, wolfing down each bite with fervor.
And it was glorious.
The bull pork was rich and succulent, seasoned with a spice that tingled against his tongue. The spirit rice, infused with qi, melted in his mouth, leaving behind a soothing warmth that spread through his limbs.
He had never tasted food like this before. Not in his old life. Not ever.
As he ate, his mind drifted.Drifted to the moment he had first woken up in this world.
To the impossibility of it all. To the fact that, after a lifetime of solitude…He had a father.
'It's been around four months since I've been awake. And so many crazy things have happened all so fast that if I weren't a dragon I'd be mentally overwhelmed.' Sitting down and drinking his water Tao thought back to how this all transpired.
His training, how he met Butler An, and how he met his father.
...
/Four Months Ago/
The black room was steeped in warmth, its vast expanse draped in deep shades of crimson and gold. At its center lay an enormous wine-red bed, its silk sheets glistening under the soft glow of floating jade lanterns.
Amidst the plush folds of the bedding, a boy slept.
His long, white hair fanned out behind him like liquid silver, strands cascading across the pillows in delicate waves. Small black budding horns were semented on his forehead like posts. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, his lips slightly parted as soft, even breaths escaped.
Tao slept peacefully.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity.
His body, once marred by pain and frailty, now bore no trace of past suffering. No bruises. No scars. His skin was smooth, untouched, as if he had been sculpted from the purest jade.
Had anyone seen him now, they might have mistaken him for an ethereal statue—an exquisitely crafted porcelain doll, too delicate to belong to this world.
But then, something shifted in the air. A subtle, almost imperceptible presence.
A hand—warm, steady, unyielding yet impossibly gentle—brushed across his forehead, smoothing away strands of hair.
Tao stirred.
His body shuddered faintly before his dark lashes fluttered open, revealing his abyssal eyes. White pupils gleamed against the creeping black void of his sclera, like twin stars lost in an endless night.
For a long moment, he remained still, blinking as his mind sluggishly pieced itself together. Then—he felt it.
That quiet, inexplicable pull.
A presence that didn't demand his attention but commanded it all the same.
His gaze shifted, and he saw him.
Seated at the edge of the bed, tall and composed, was a man of imposing stature. His features were sharp yet regal, his long obsidian hair cascading over broad shoulders like a midnight river. His very presence stirred the air, thick with an authority that seemed woven into the fabric of the world itself.
Yet—his touch was soft.
The man's hand remained on Tao's forehead, fingers threading through his hair in slow, comforting motions—not out of duty, not out of formality, but out of something far deeper.
Tao did not move. He did not want to.
Something in his very blood whispered to him, an ancient instinct thrumming in his veins. It told him he was safe. That he could trust this man….that he belonged here.
And then—realization struck.
Memories long buried, unearthed by Bai Yun's awakening, converged with the knowledge passed down by his mother's words. Tao knew who this man was.
It was Dai Long. His father.
A lifetime of longing condensed into a single moment, and Tao barely had time to process it before the man's deep voice broke the silence.
"Your eyes are very beautiful."
Dai Long's tone was soft, thoughtful—carrying a weight that stretched beyond time.
"They look just like your mother's… when she was angry."
His fingers never stopped their slow, rhythmic motion, as if ensuring Tao remained grounded in this fragile, newfound reality.
Silence stretched between them once more.
Until finally—
He didn't know it, but the years of not feeling safe and not having someone there for you had ultimately damaged him in ways he could not explain.
"You… are you my—?"
Tao's voice cracked, hesitant, like he feared speaking the words aloud would shatter the fragile moment.
"Father."
Dai Long finished for him, his tone resolute.
And just like that—something inside Tao broke. Tears spilled over before he could stop them. Hot, unrelenting rivers that streaked down his cheeks, releasing a pain he had never fully acknowledged.
The years of being alone. The years of being unwanted.The years of longing for a presence that had never been there—until now.
Dai Long said nothing.
He didn't need to.
He simply remained, his hand still in Tao's hair, his presence unwavering.
For an hour, neither of them moved. Until, at last, Tao's sobs faded.
His breathing evened out. Sniffling slightly, he shifted, propping himself up against the golden headboard. Dai Long, sensing the change, withdrew his hand slightly—giving him space yet making it clear….He wasn't going anywhere.
Tao let out a small, almost wistful smile as he finally broke the silence.
"Mother spoke very fondly of you... In our last moments together, she said she hated leaving you all alone. But she felt it was best for both of you to go your separate ways."
Dai Long exhaled a long, heavy sigh. There was sorrow in his eyes—an old, weary kind of sorrow—as he leaned back slightly, gazing at nothing in particular.
"Bai Yun was always hard-headed," he murmured. His voice held the weight of decades, of memories both cherished and painful. "She never had to leave me. In fact, we could have left together. But that time has come and passed."
A moment of silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken grief.
Then, Dai Long hesitated. For the first time since they met, Tao saw something in the towering man that startled him—uncertainty.
A hesitation so fleeting, yet profound, that it made him look almost... vulnerable.
"If you don't mind me asking..." Dai Long's voice was quieter now, more careful. "How did she die?"
The question hung in the air, pressing down like an invisible weight.
Tao met his father's gaze, and the image of the black clouds came rushing back—like a tidal wave of horror and rage.
His jaw clenched. His right fist tightened, veins bulging as raw fury coursed through him.
"I don't know all the specifics," Tao said, voice low, almost shaking. "But she was ambushed by an old rival. And that person wasn't alone. They had a group with them. Mother was holding her own, but..."
His breath hitched.
"The leader… they attacked me while I was still in her womb."
The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
"I don't remember much after that. Just flashes—pain, darkness, and then... we ended up in the hands of some cult."
Tao paused, his fingers digging into his palm so hard he almost drew blood.
"They did things to me," he forced out. "They ripped out pieces of my soul—forced them to reincarnate into other people... all to 'refine' my body into an 'unparalleled foundation.'"
A muscle in Dai Long's jaw twitched.
But he said nothing.
Tao looked away, staring out the window, his voice quieter but no less fierce.
"Mother was there, but... she was already dead. At least that is what I thought…seeing her wrapped in black bandages, like she was nothing more than a relic. They kept her body near me at all times. Not too close, but never too far."
He swallowed hard.
"I knew she was dead, but I couldn't accept it. Not until..."
His grip on the sheets tightened.
"Not until she freed me."
Tao's breath trembled. His eyes burned, but he refused to let the tears fall.
"With one strike—just one sword strike—she shattered the restrictions that bound me. She wanted to expose us, so that you could find me."
Dai Long's hands curled into fists. His expression remained unreadable—but the sheer weight of his silence said everything.
Tao exhaled sharply, his voice bitter.
"But I was so angry. So angry at those people, so furious that I spat out words I barely even remember..."
Then—his voice dropped into a whisper.
"And then that cloud came."
Tao shut his eyes, but the memory was relentless.
"Mother's body—what was left of her—held the last of her resentment. It protected me, shielding me from whatever that thing in the black clouds was."
His fingers trembled.
"And then it sent out a single red bolt of lightning. It struck her in the head."
A deep breath.
"And she turned to ashes."
Silence.
Not just any silence—a suffocating one.
Tao's nails dug into his palm, yet he barely felt the pain.
"I blacked out after that," he admitted. "But I still remember pieces. I remember defying that thing. And then—"
His gaze flickered to Dai Long.
"I remember you."
Dai Long had not moved. But something inside him had shifted. The weight in his chest was something he hadn't felt in centuries. Something far worse than rage or sorrow.
Regret. He had been too cautious. Too hesitant.
He should have followed Bai Yun.Should have torn apart the world to find her.
Should have been there sooner. But regret was a useless thing. He could not change the past, at least with some serious repercussions that is.
But he could damn well ensure that his son would never face that kind of horror again.
Dai Long exhaled, his mind already forming silent vows.
He would not fail Tao.
Nor would he fail Bai Yun.
He would make sure Tao was prepared for life.
For anything.
Then—something Tao had said clicked in Dai Long's mind.
"Sorry to interrupt," Dai Long interjected, voice still calm, but carrying an edge. "But did those black-cloaked individuals have any defining marks? Symbols?"
Tao blinked, startled for a moment. Then, his brows furrowed in thought.
And then—he remembered.
"One of them," Tao said slowly, "the leader… had a short black blade. And on the pommel, there was a symbol of three eyes."
Silence. Dai Long's expression did not change….but his eyes darkened.
Then—he smiled.
A smile that was not a smile. Tao felt the shift in the air. His father's aura, vast and suffocating, coiled around him like an unseen storm.
Tao raised a brow.
"Do you know them?"
Dai Long nodded, his voice unreadable.
"I know of the three-eyed symbol."
Tao narrowed his eyes. "And?"
"And I can't tell you much more."
Dai Long's gaze met his son's—measured, calm, but unyielding.
"Because you are—"
"Weak, aren't I?"
Tao's voice rang out, clear, sharp, unyielding.
Dai Long stilled. For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, slowly—Dai Long's lips curled into something almost resembling amusement.