Kieran Long stood at the edge of his secluded courtyard, the mountain behind him casting a long shadow over the Long Clan estate. The sun had only just begun to rise, and the first light bathed the scene below in a warm glow. He gazed down over the vast estate, his eyes tracing the elegant jade-tiered pavilions with their upturned eaves, the shimmering dome of the ancestral hall rising like a crown, and the training grounds where disciples practiced martial arts. The sharp sound of swords slicing through the air was like a distant melody, and in the streets beyond the estate walls, merchants and cultivators began their daily routines, slowly filling the bustling town of Yidu.
But here, at the foot of the mountain where the peace of nature met the edge of civilization, there was only silence, a calm that seemed almost unnatural.
After taking in the sight, Kieran knelt in his herb garden, fingers carefully working through the delicate roots of a temperamental moonbloom orchid. The plant was notoriously difficult to care for, yet here, under his hands, it thrived. Its silver-veined leaves trembled slightly with the wind. Kieran paused for a moment, feeling a subtle pulse within him, something always just out of reach.
He was used to this feeling. It had been there all his life, like a whisper he could never quite hear. And yet, somehow, it felt familiar.
His frayed void-silk robe caught on a thorn, and he grunted, tugging it free. The robe, a gift from the Patriarch himself, was worth a fortune, yet he wore it like any common garment—his way of distancing himself from the expectations of the clan. Better to be forgotten than to be pitied.
Today marked his eighteenth birthday, a day the clan would shower him with gifts he had not asked for, trying to make him feel more loved. It was also the fifteenth anniversary of his parents' death. But to him, it was just another day of pretending to be whole.
Then, as if the universe felt his loneliness, the air around him shifted.
He felt a pulse, like a tremor in the earth. The moonbloom orchid quivered under his fingers, its leaves trembling, as if reacting to something. Then, before he could react, he heard a voice, lilting and playful, as if teasing him.
"Finally."
Kieran froze, his heart skipping a beat. He looked around, expecting to see someone, but there was no one in sight.
The voice came again, sultry, amused. "Took long enough."
Kieran's breath caught in his throat as a ball of light came out of his chest, twisting and rippling like the reflection of a star on water. The light coalesced, and a tiny figure materialized in the air before him, a creature no taller than his finger.
A fairy?
She had flowing purple hair and eyes that gleamed with mischief. She wore a scandalously revealing cheongsam, the fabric clinging to her slender form like liquid silk. Her smile was playful, teasing, and somehow flirty.
She crossed her arms, her wings flickering with iridescent light. "Eighteen years," she purred, tapping a delicate finger to her chin. "Took long enough."
Kieran blinked in shock, too stunned to react at first. The sight of the tiny, ethereal being before him seemed almost unreal. But it wasn't the surreal nature of her appearance that struck him—it was the strange recognition that tugged at the back of his mind, as though he knew her.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. His thoughts were a chaotic swirl. The fairy tilted her head and chuckled, clearly enjoying his speechless state.
Her voice was like silk, her every word dripping with teasing humor. "What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?"
"What... What are you?" His voice trembled slightly, still trying to process the surreal situation.
The fairy smirked, her eyes gleaming. "I'm Sindra, your Guardian Spirit."
Before Kieran could respond, an unbearable pain exploded in his chest, a burning sensation that spread like fire through his bones. He gasped, his sternum feeling as though it was being scraped by invisible hands.
Sindra watched him, worry flickering in her eyes. "Ah, it begins," her tone was light, recognition showing in her eyes.
Kieran staggered backward, clutching his chest, his breath shallow and erratic. "What... is happening to me?"
Sindra tilted her head, her playful nature slipping into concern. "I thought this might happen," she muttered, more to herself than to him. Then, with an amused smile, she added, "A human with Divine Dragon blood? Well, this is a surprise."
Kieran's head spun. "Divine Dragon blood? What are you talking about?" His voice was weak, strained, the pain in his chest overwhelming.
Sindra's playful tone returned. "Your body is reforming." She circled him lazily, her wings glowing like faint starlight.
Kieran barely registered her words, his vision blurring with each pulse of pain in his chest. Then, to his horror, he felt something else—something was growing, forming inside him. He gasped, his knees giving way as his body collapsed to the ground.
Sindra's gaze sharpened as she studied him more closely, her wings flickering with a pulse of violet light. "Hmm... There's something else," she said, her voice now laced with curiosity. "A sphere... right at your core. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it. Your body is not just re-forming."
Before Kieran could respond, the pain intensified, and he passed out.
The last thing he remembered was a warmth, like something alive, wrapping around him and alleviating his pain.
When he regained consciousness, he was lying inside what looked like a purple-gold egg, purple threads wove around him like a protective shell. The chi of the world itself seemed to swirl and gather around him. He felt a strange sense of completion, as if a missing part of him had been found.
With a sound like cracking glass, the cocoon shattered, and Kieran rose to his feet, feeling more... whole.
His body felt stronger, fitter, and even his face seemed sharper, more handsome. He flexed his fingers, marveling at the new strength that surged through him. It was like he was more alive than he had ever been before.
Sindra appeared before him again, her wings fluttering with excitement. "Well, well," she said, her voice teasing. "Things got more interesting. Your bloodline has fully awakened."
Kieran stood there, his mind still racing. His thoughts were scattered, filled with an overwhelming sense of change.
"I want answers," Kieran demanded, his voice steady despite the chaos inside him. "What is all this?"
Sindra flashed him a playful grin. "Ah, so serious, master. I'm your Guardian Spirit, born from your blood essence, bound to your soul. And now that you've awakened, you've inherited a wealth of knowledge, memories from your bloodline."
Kieran's head buzzed as he sorted the information in his mind. Alchemy secrets, the Divine Dragon Sutra, the Yin Yang Scripture. His mind whirled with unfamiliar techniques, but despite the influx of information, he felt a deep understanding. It all made sense, as if it had always been a part of him.
But then his mood soured.
"I still can't sense chi," Kieran muttered, frustrated. "How is this possible? After everything... I still can't cultivate?"
Sindra pouted, tracing a finger along his jawline, her wings fluttering in amusement. "Your spiritual roots are damaged. You have to heal them first."
Kieran gritted his teeth, annoyance flickering in his chest. He was supposed to be special, yet he still couldn't do what every cultivator did by instinct.
As the sun rose behind the mountain, bathing the Long clan in a golden light.
Kieran stood tall, Sindra's words sinking in. Maybe this was just the beginning. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in years, he felt hopeful.