Jade Throne Realm – Central Mainland – Flying Sword Sect Territory
Year of the Jade Rooster (Time to Shine)
In the upper levels of Sword Mountain—where clouds doubled as chairs, the air sang hymns of swordlight, and even the squirrels were Qi-condensed into murderous tufted beasts—a trio of semi-insane cultivators lounged like minor gods with no intention of helping anybody but each other.
They were the firstborn children of the Flying Sword Sect. Pillars of discipline and terror to outsiders. To their family? Well…
They were simply the older siblings of the twins who had yet to be born—and that, in their collective delusion, made them holy guardians, sworn swords, and occasionally irrational cultists.
Xu Liang was stretched across an enormous stone slab carved from thunder-forged jade, sipping something so strong it made Void-Slaying cultivators cry. Clad in open robes with war talismans painted like haphazard tattoos across his chest, he looked like a demigod on holiday.
He was 329 years old. Twin to Xu Anyue. And already sitting at Celestial Dao Seed cultivation—a realm that made other sects weep bitter tears and accuse the heavens of favoritism.
"Do you think they'll be born with teeth?" he asked idly.
Xu Anyue, embroidery needle flicking through a celestial silk tapestry that wept lightning with every stitch, answered without blinking. "They'll be born with Dao Intent. If they bite, they'll bite through the womb."
"Oh good," Xu Liang said dreamily, "I'd hate to have boring little sisters."
At the far edge of the sky terrace, Xu Zhenyan stood barefoot in a sword formation. Eyes closed, listening to the breathing of mountain wind through the chime-bells of his siblings' wristlets.
He was 315. Born blind, but now saw through the Dao of Sound. A swordsman so precise he once sliced the wings off a mosquito without severing the air.
His cultivation? Celestial Dao Seed, same as his older brother.
His personality? Quiet. Obsessed. Deadpan. Potentially dangerous. Definitely divine.
"They're moving," he murmured suddenly, voice mild. "In the womb. Angry."
Anyue grinned. "Already angry? That's my girls."
"They're not yours," Liang replied.
"They will be if I bribe them with spirit cakes," she snapped.
"Invalid argument. I'm making a frost-cored bamboo crib that cultivates with them."
"You two are disgusting," Zhenyan sighed. "They're not born yet and you're already planning sect-worship rituals."
"Of course we are."
To outsiders, the three Xu siblings were a blight on the self-esteem of the cultivation world.
How were they only 300-some years old and already ranked within the top 30 on the Heaven's Pride List?
The day Xu Liang debuted, three war generals fainted.
When Xu Anyue unveiled her Jade Purity Embryo level cultivation, five sects issued emergency inheritance lockdowns to protect their heirs' pride.
And Zhenyan's ascension wasn't even announced it simply showed up on the list with a passive note: "Rank 27: Xu Zhenyan, Blind Sword. Don't bother."
And none of them had ever boasted.
Not once.
They hadn't even entered competitions. They just quietly existed, like natural disasters with good skin and better outfits. And that—more than their strength—was what made others want to eat their own sleeves.
It was, frankly, rude.
Back in the celestial terrace, Liang sat up. "I heard the Mystic Cloud Sect tried to predict the future."
"They did," Anyue said sweetly, lightning flicking at her needle-tip. "Their prophet collapsed from cranial qi backlash and now thinks he's a duck."
"Good," Zhenyan said. "Stupid people should be punished."
Liang leaned back again, balancing his jug on a rising thermal. "Are we bad people for not caring about anyone but them?"
"Yes," Zhenyan replied.
"No," Anyue replied at the same time.
"Don't care," Liang yawned. "Whoever's mad can go die about it."
"Agreed," the twins said in unison.
They weren't always like this.
But the moment the family discovered that Xu Minzhi's womb carried twin spiritual signatures pulsing in perfect antithesis—Frost and Sun—the older siblings snapped.
Other cultivators might compete with younger siblings for favor, inheritance, or titles.
The Xu siblings?
They were already planning genocidal revenge for imagined slights against the twins.
"I already started blacklisting marriage proposals," Zhenyan said calmly.
"They're unborn."
"All the more reason. I've seen the sect proposal scrolls. Garbage. Trash. Ugly fonts."
From the Sword Ancestor Chambers, the Fourth Ancestor peered into the sky through a floating bowl of soup.
"Youngsters these days," Xu Feiyu mused.
"They're loyal," murmured the Seventh Ancestor, sipping tea from a thunder-cloud.
"They're unhinged," Feiyu corrected. "But they're ours."
A pause.
"Should we... talk to them?"
Yuling scoffed. "Have you seen Xu Liang's eyes when someone mentions 'baby socks'? I'm not getting within a li of that mess."
Back in the sky, the bells on Zhenyan's wrist chimed. His head lifted slightly.
"They're angry again."
Anyue beamed. "I bet they're plotting."
Liang whispered reverently, "Glorious."
And in the sanctum below, Xu Minzhi, radiant despite her rest, blinked sleepily at her husband.
"They're still angry."
"They'll be monsters," Zhongshan said proudly.
"They'll be ours," she corrected.
And far above, the stars shifted, the wind howled, and three overpowered siblings leaned together, smiling like lunatics in love with the future.
They were already loyal.
They would destroy empires, for two girls not yet born.