One by one, under the sheltering branches of the ancient Milk Mangrove, the children spoke.
Their words started softly, uncertainly — but soon, memories came pouring out, raw and vivid.
Alix was the first to speak.
He looked down at his hands, flexing the small fingers that still bore faint callouses.
"I was born on the Douluo Continent," he said, voice steady, but hollow. "When I was about three, men came in the night. They sold me into the Spirit Stone mines."
He swallowed.
"My hands... they were small. Perfect for reaching into cracks and pulling out stones where grown men couldn't."
Xin sat silently, his hands resting still on the table, his heart tightening with every word.
Then Xue spoke, her voice like a whisper carried by the breeze.
"I was born in a village, near Doku City," she said. "It wasn't much... but it was ours."
Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped her cup.
"One day, a Spirit Beast — over sixty thousand years old — attacked. We had no one strong enough to fight it."
Tears shimmered in her eyes, but she pressed on.
"My parents... they tried to hide me. But the beast... it killed everyone."
Her voice cracked.
"I survived... by crawling inside the carcass of a dead cow."
Xin closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breathing. The weight of her words was almost physical.
Next came Mei.
"I don't remember my parents," she said quietly, almost ashamed. "I was abandoned at birth. Brought to an orphanage in Viremoor Keep."
She smiled, but it was a fragile thing.
"People said it was a kindness. Better than the streets. But... the orphanage wasn't much kinder than the streets would have been."
Xin's jaw tightened.
And then — Gho.
His younger brother, who until now had only shown the world a polite, careful face.
"I was born a slave," Gho said simply.
He didn't cry. His voice didn't shake.
But the emptiness in his eyes was almost worse than tears.
"At four, I was taken to serve a noble. A... chamber boy."
Xin's hands clenched so tightly the knuckles turned white.
He could guess all too well what "serving" entailed.
Gho continued, voice flat:
"They fed me less. To keep me small. They bathed me in expensive herbs, to keep my skin soft. No scars. No blemishes."
Around the table, the others lowered their heads, unable to meet Gho's eyes.
Xin forced himself to stay calm.
He would rage later. For now, he had to listen.
To honor their truth.
Finally, Hoi spoke.
Born to a small baron family in the Verdant Reaches — discarded like waste when it was discovered he had no spirit energy to cultivate.
"They said I was worthless," Hoi whispered. "I lived behind kitchens. Ate scraps. Slept in the ashes when winter came."
The last words hung heavy over the table, like a stormcloud refusing to break.
For a long time, no one spoke.
Tears had been shed — even from those who had promised themselves they would never cry again.
The golden afternoon light had faded, and the pavilion was now wrapped in deepening shadows, the garden bathed in a quiet, almost sacred gloom.
Xin sat there, unmoving.
Even he, forged by hardship, trained to endure, felt awe at the strength these young souls had shown.
They had survived.
Somehow.
And now they sat here, under his protection — not just as burdens, but as proof that strength could bloom even in broken soil.
He bowed his head slightly, honoring them without ceremony, without words.
Sensing the heavy mood settling deeper over them, Xin made a decision.
He lifted his teacup once more, taking a small sip, then placed it carefully back on the table.
Changing his tone — lightening it without losing seriousness — he looked around the pavilion at his younger siblings and said:
"Enough sorrow for one day. Let's talk about the future — about your cultivation paths."
The children looked up, startled but grateful for the shift. Some wiped at their eyes quickly, embarrassed. Others straightened, instinctively more focused at the mention of cultivation.
Xin allowed himself a small smile.
Good. Even battered hearts can still burn brightly.
"You all have taken your first steps into cultivation now," Xin said, voice calm and steady. "That's a beginning — but it's not enough. You must decide the path you want to walk."
He tapped two fingers lightly against the marble table, gathering his thoughts.
"The Jade Phosphor Serpent — The Spirit we all have — is naturally bound to the Control system. We don't have much choice." He gave a wry, self-deprecating smile. "But for your other spirits… they hold options. Choices that can shape your futures."
He turned first to Alix.
"Alix," he said, his voice gaining a quiet edge of certainty. "Your Ebony Shield Spirit is a pure defense type. You belong to the Defense system."
Alix's eyes lit up slightly at being addressed first.
"For your first Spirit Ring," Xin continued, "you'll need to seek something powerful in defensive traits. The Golden Beetle, if we can find one, would be ideal. Its defensive armor is nearly unmatched."
Alix nodded, a fierce determination glimmering in his young gaze.
Next, Xin looked to Xue.
"Xue," he said gently, "your Halo Spirit falls under the Auxiliary system. When you activate it, you'll boost the power, speed, and defense of everyone in your radius... and even grant a light healing effect."
Xue gasped softly, surprised — she hadn't realized the full potential of her Spirit yet.
"Each Spirit Ring you add," Xin explained, "will strengthen the Halo's range and effects. You'll become a living fortress for your comrades — the one who turns survival into victory."
Her small hands clenched in her lap, not in fear, but with fierce, rising pride.
Then came Mei.
"Mei," Xin said thoughtfully, "your Passion Flower is versatile. You could choose either the Power Attack system or the Control system."
Mei leaned forward slightly, eager to hear more.
"If you strengthen the petals," Xin continued, "you can turn them into blades — a storm of lethal strikes from a distance."
He paused.
"But if you refine its parasitic properties instead... you'll create a flower that saps an enemy's strength over time, binding them in a slow, deadly embrace. That would push you more into the Control system."
Mei's lips parted slightly, caught between the allure of overwhelming force and the cunning of gradual domination.
Xin turned his gaze to Gho.
Gho straightened a little in his seat, sensing that his spirit — and his path — were different.
"And you, Gho..." Xin said slowly, voice almost reverent. "Your Spirit — Lucifer — is extraordinary."
The table grew even quieter.
"You aren't bound to a single system," Xin said. "Depending on how you develop it, you could become a Power attacker, a Control master, an Agility specialist, even an Auxiliary if you focused creatively."
He smiled faintly.
"Your only limit, Gho... will be your imagination."
Gho blinked rapidly behind his thick glasses, stunned by the enormity of what that meant.
Finally, Xin turned to Hoi.
"And you, Hoi," he said warmly. "Your Ice Cheetah is pure Agility system."
Hoi sat up straighter, his face flushing slightly with pride.
"Speed, evasion, rapid strikes. That is your path. You will become the ghost on the battlefield — there, then gone before the enemy can react."
Xin sat back then, letting the weight of their new destinies settle among them.
"You all have been given a chance," he said quietly. "A chance most people in this world would never even dream of. Your bloodlines, your Spirits, your future cultivation... all of it will be stronger than anything your old lives could have ever promised you."
The children stared at him, wide-eyed, the embers of new dreams lighting in their hearts.
"And you won't walk this path alone," Xin finished, voice steady. "We rise together."
Beneath the Milk Mangrove's towering boughs, with the scent of spirit herbs and the murmur of running water surrounding them, a new generation of the Dugu Clan was born — not of blood alone, but of will.
Xin let the moment breathe, watching as hope, determination, and a quiet excitement stirred in the hearts of his younger siblings.
For the first time, perhaps in their entire lives, they had been given not just survival... but a future to strive toward.
But even good things must be measured — there would be time for dreams tomorrow.
Today had been heavy enough.
Xin rose smoothly from his seat, the faint rustle of his robes the only sound beneath the quiet trickle of the irrigation creek.
"Now," he said, his voice warm but leaving no room for argument,
"all of you, return to your own courtyards."
The siblings looked up, some reluctant to leave the rare peace of Yongheng Courtyard, but when they saw the faint smile tugging at the corner of Xin's mouth — the softness beneath his usual discipline — they obeyed without hesitation.
"We'll discuss all of this more with Father tomorrow," Xin added, his tone promising that today was only the beginning, not the end.
The children rose, bowing respectfully before turning to leave.
Their steps were lighter now — a little straighter, a little surer — as they filed out of the pavilion, their chatter soft and hesitant at first but growing louder as they made their way back down the stone paths.
Gho lingered for just a moment, his small hand brushing the smooth marble of the table, before he too followed after the others — his heart, once weighed down by chains, feeling just a little lighter.
And Xin stood there alone for a while longer under the ancient Milk Mangrove, hands clasped loosely behind his back, watching the last traces of sunset bleed across the horizon.