He stared at the child, eyes filled with disbelief. His qi had been rejected—not resisted, not absorbed, but outright repelled. As if this boy's very existence defied the natural order.
"How… how was he born?" The physician's voice, once steady, now carried a rare tremor.
The mother frowned, confusion evident on her face. "He was born like any other child."
"No," the old man said, his expression darkening. "There is nothing ordinary about him."
She clenched her fists. "Then tell me why he cannot open his eyes."
The physician took a slow breath, regaining his composure. He studied the boy once more, as if piecing together a puzzle that should not exist.
"This child does not possess a dantian."
Her heart nearly stopped. "What?"
"A normal person has a dantian, a core where qi is gathered and stored. Even the weakest of mortals have one, no matter how small. But your son…" He exhaled sharply. "He has nothing."
Her mind raced. "Then… does that mean he can't cultivate?"
The old man hesitated. "That is what should be true." His fingers hovered over the boy's chest, sensing something beyond human comprehension. "And yet… his entire body is acting as a dantian."
She froze. "What do you mean?"
The physician leaned back, rubbing his temples. "I do not know how, but this child does not store qi in one place. Instead, every fiber of his being—his flesh, his bones, his blood—it all absorbs qi naturally, as if he were born to wield it. I have never seen anything like this before."
She looked down at her son, her heart pounding.
A child without a dantian. A child whose entire body functioned as one.
What did this mean for his future?
The old man spoke again, his voice laced with warning. "There is something else."
She looked up, dread curling in her stomach.
"This child… he is incomplete."
Her breath hitched. "What do you mean, incomplete?"
"Something is missing. I do not know what it is, but until that missing piece is found, his body will not function as it should. That is why his eyes remain closed. His very existence is waiting for something to awaken."
A heavy silence filled the room.
She tightened her hold on her son. "Is there a way to fix it?"
The old man studied her for a long time before sighing. "Perhaps. But it is beyond my knowledge. This is no mere illness. This… is fate."
She gritted her teeth. Fate? No. She refused to accept that.
"I will find a way," she said, determination burning in her eyes.
The physician stared at her, then let out a small chuckle. "You remind me of someone."
She didn't ask who. It didn't matter. All that mattered was her son.
The old man reached into his robe and pulled out a small jade token. "Take this. In the capital, there is someone who might have answers. Show them this, and they will listen."
She took the token, bowing deeply. "Thank you."
As she stood, preparing to leave, the physician gave one last piece of advice.
"Be careful. If anyone learns what this child truly is, they will either worship him… or fear him."
She met his gaze, her voice firm. "Then I will make sure no one finds out until the time is right."
With her son in her arms and a new purpose in her heart, she stepped out of the hut, the cold wind whispering around her.
The journey was far from over. It had only just begun.