Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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Ding!
Achievement Unlocked:Discovered the Path Home and Wounded the Celestial Eye, Forcing It to Retreat in Panic. For the First Time, You've Instilled Fear in the Celestial Eye, and Now the Heavens See You as a Threat to Be Neutralized.
Reward:
➤ A territory blessed with crystalline rivers, murmuring streams, and waterfalls of the Waters of Life; an imposing residence encircled by a rare forest of ancient and exotic plants; and a garden of perennial herbs, their colors and contours seeming to defy thought itself.
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The message echoed through my mind, sharp and clear as a bell tolling at dawn. The Heavens, once unshakable in their dominion, now wavered because of what I'd done. A faint smile crept onto my face, though my usual calm held steady on the surface. It was a deed no one had ever dared to dream of, and while I cared little for fame, there was a quiet thrill in bending the impossible into reality.
But then, like an uninvited guest, a question slipped into my thoughts:
"Why didn't I get anything for awakening my talent?"
It lingered there, simple yet persistent.
The answer came fast, crisp as a scribe's ledger:
[I only reward feats that don't rely on me directly. If I gave you something for a garden of extraordinary plants, I'd have to reward you for receiving that reward too. It'd spiral endlessly—nonsense, really.]
The system's blunt reasoning pulled a soft, almost silent sigh from me. For a moment, I let a flicker of irony take hold:
"Well, that checks out, doesn't it?"
The sarcasm faded quickly, leaving no trace. Still, it nudged me to realize that beneath my cool detachment, there was something—a spark, maybe—that could crack the stiff shell of the world around me.
A ripple of voices tugged me back to the moment. The elders, perched on their high seats, wore expressions caught between greed and wariness, their restlessness thick in the air. The hall thrummed with a heavy, charged energy, though no one dared act rashly—not yet.
"These resources… are they even real?" one asked, his voice trembling with eager doubt.
"What if she comes back?" another muttered, fear threading through a sliver of hope.
"With this, our clan could finally claim the top of this realm!" a third proclaimed, ambition spilling out unchecked.
Their words wove together into a cautious clamor, each syllable a careful step on shaky ground. They all craved the treasures my mother had spoken of, but none had the guts to say it outright. To keep it hushed, they'd sealed the hall with a barrier—blocking sound, scent, any hint of power. A flimsy shield against the world, and yet they didn't see how brittle they looked.
I watched it all from a distance, unmoved by their petty fussing. To me, those riches were fleeting shadows. My thoughts drifted instead to my mother's words and the long road still stretching out before me.
"Desire and fear always show what's most ordinary in people," I mused.
The hall's air grew dense, heavy with veiled tension and barely leashed longing. Everyone hid their greed behind a mask of poise. Leading the charge was the Duchess, her words smooth as silk but sharp as a snare, stirring them to turn on me. To them, I was just a lucky kid, handed more than he'd earned through their so-called generosity.
"Lovely," I muttered under my breath, "now I'm stuck in the middle of some tawdry family drama straight out of a bad play." The mockery in my tone barely hid my disgust at the stench of their deceit.
"They think they're the masters of everything, but they shuffle around like pawns on a child's board," I thought, holding fast to the reserve that always set me apart.
The elders' whispers broke through in scraps:
"You won't turn your back on the family, will you?"
"Watch your tongue! He's a true heir of the Yang House!"
"Of course he'll share it with us—he grew up under our roof!"
"We always believed in him, even when he showed no spark. No Yang would ever be a failure!"
Their words dripped with hidden motives, dressed up as loyalty, but I saw them for what they were—chains meant to tie me to their schemes. To them, I was a golden opportunity, ripe for the taking, when not long ago I'd been invisible in their eyes.
"Good thing none of this tempts me," I thought, my pride bristling at the idea of bowing to their childish ploys. Their subtle pressure felt like another unwanted trinket from my mother, and honestly, it only made me more restless.
Then, cutting through the din, my voice rang out steady and sure:
"Excuse me, Your Majesty, the Duke—may I ask something?"
The tone was calm, almost offhand, but carried a chill that hushed the room.
The Duke, lounging on his throne like he ruled the stars, raised an eyebrow, blending curiosity with a faint smugness. He leaned in just a touch, playing at warmth.
"Next time, call me father. Go on, what's your question?" he said, his clever smile barely hiding the forced connection he tried to claim.
"Father?" The word hit me like a hollow note, empty of meaning.
"I've never said that to anyone, and you won't be the first," I thought, locking my sharp, steady gaze on his.
After a beat, I answered, clear and polite:
"I've never called anyone father, and you won't be the first."
His smile twitched for a split second before he smoothed it over, brushing off the sting.
"Stubborn, aren't you? Fair enough—ask away," he replied, his patience sounding practiced.
With every eye on me, I sidestepped their hungry stares and spoke:
"Tell me, why hasn't anyone here stopped to consider what it means to take what my mother left behind? Do you really think she made it all up? Or are you so sure you can handle her response—maybe even face her?"
My words, quiet but edged with a warning, sent uneasy glances darting among the elders. The Duchess's poise faltered, a flicker of doubt creeping in.
In the thick silence that followed, the Duke threw out a curveball, probing at old wounds:
"Since you and my mother had, let's call it a 'special bond'… she must've done something for you, right?"
The room went still. The elders froze, their eyes glassy, as if her name alone was taboo. I felt the unease ripple out, but I stood firm.
"Let me guess," I said, my voice dry and teasing, stirring the tension like a stick in a hornet's nest. "She helped some ancestor of yours brush up against ultimate power, didn't she?"
The silence deepened, and only three faces in the hall seemed to catch my drift. Pride and pain tightened their features as I pressed on:
"I'd bet she led a few of them to an Emperor's domain. Probably tossed in some treasures to stretch their lives by, oh, 50,000 years or so. Am I close?"
"Don't be ungrateful," the Duchess cut in, her tone sweet but biting. "Everything we do is to help you become what you're meant to be. These riches belong to the Yang family as much as to you. You're one of us."
I let out a low, humorless chuckle.
"One of you? Save the hollow platitudes. The only thing I share with you is this room—and if I had my way, not for long."
The Duke gave a slow nod, while an elder snapped:
"Yang Fei, don't be a defiant son!"
Before the heat could rise, I sliced through with a firm declaration:
"Nael Supremium. That's my name. Nael."
Each word landed like a hammer, and their baffled stares locked onto me as I shed the mask they'd pinned on me.
The Duchess masked her fury with a tight smile, but her eyes gave her away. She didn't know me—not really. I wasn't here for their empty courtesies.
With a firm step, I moved toward a frameless painting that had appeared among the treasures. It was my mother's portrait, and despite our rift, I'd be damned if I left it with some hormonal fool chasing power trips.
The hall buzzed with gasps and wide-eyed stares. No one had ever dared touch that sacred relic of the family.
"I'll take this painting as my cut—you don't mind, do you?" I said, lacing each word with a twist of irony.
"And since I'm such a dutiful son, I'll leave the rest to the Clan. Maybe it'll churn out a few more legends," I added, poking at the hypocrisy laid bare.
The air grew taut. The Duchess's lips thinned, and the Duke held his regal stance, though a glint of unease flickered in his gaze.
"Here's hoping your 'ambition' covers the price, Your Majesty. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got better things to do."
"Oh, nearly forgot: good luck. You're going to need a heap of it."
I didn't wait for their replies. Turning on my heel, I felt their stares bore into me—meaningless noise against the storm I knew was coming.
And I was ready.
Sure, my tone had a theatrical flair, but it was the only way to speak their tongue. Those games of sway and fawning turned my stomach, yet they were child's play to unravel. Trapped in their shoddy script, I was tired of the act—but for now, it was the only stage I had.
With a quick flick of will, I teleported out, leaving their clamor behind. The overblown nonsense of that place grated on me, almost tangible in its excess.
As I walked away, my mind zeroed in on one thing: my mother and my sister. They were the only true thread in this tangle of lies. And that, above all, was what kept me moving.