"A silent river hides the depth of its current."
---
Year 4678, Songhai City – Capital of Eastern Alliance
The city never slept.
Towers scraped clouds of artificial light, lev-trams zipped like glowing serpents through midair, and people of all walks bustled beneath the neon sky. Despite all the technological marvels and rising cultivation sects tucked within these megastructures, Songhai still honored its roots—temples thrived beside skyscrapers, talisman shops coexisted with digital interfaces, and cultivators roamed alongside corporate tycoons. It was the perfect blend of ancient mysticism and futuristic ambition.
And it was here, in the heart of the city's old district, that a boy was born.
Jiang Residence, North Sector of Songhai City
Jiang Mu was pacing.
In the corner of the modest apartment, a moonlamp pulsed with a steady glow. Walls inscribed with protective runes shimmered occasionally, reacting to the spiritual energy filling the air. The cultivation aura was unusually thick today, thick enough to bend sound. Time felt like it had slowed, breath by breath.
"Doctor Shen said the spiritual readings are stable," said a robotic midwife gently, her voice calm and precise. "There's no anomaly."
Jiang Mu didn't reply. He stared at the door to the birthing chamber, fingers clenched tightly behind his back. Dressed in his dark qi-imbued robe, he looked like a man prepared for war rather than a father-to-be.
But that was Jiang Mu—a former elite from the Azure Tiger Division, a man forged in battle and ice. And right now, he was terrified.
"She'll be alright," whispered an elderly woman from the corner, his mother. "Xuan Yi is strong."
Jiang Mu nodded once. His gaze flickered toward the old holograph on the table—a picture of himself and Xuan Yi during their academy days, their hands intertwined, standing beneath a cherry blossom tree on Mt. Ling. It felt like yesterday.
Then the cry came.
Soft, piercing, undeniable.
Jiang Mu's breath hitched. His qi pulsed uncontrollably, rising with a surge of joy, and for a moment, the talismans on the wall shimmered golden.
The door slid open. A healer in white stepped out, her expression serene.
"Congratulations. It's a boy. Both mother and child are healthy."
Jiang Mu stepped in, barely waiting for permission. Xuan Yi lay resting on the bed, sweat dampening her forehead, but her smile was brighter than ever. In her arms was the child—swaddled, calm, blinking slowly with eyes as deep as the cosmos.
"Jiang Luo," she whispered, voice as fragile as stardust. "That's his name."
Jiang Mu sat beside her, placing a hand on both of them. "Jiang Luo," he echoed. "Our Luo'er."
Outside the window, the city lights flickered like stars. Somewhere in the distance, a crane spirit called out once—a rare and auspicious sign. None of them knew that the birth had triggered a silent ripple through the world's ley lines, or that ancient spirits stirred in their slumber.
But Jiang Luo simply blinked, let out a small yawn, and fell asleep in his mother's arms.
---
Seven Years Later
Morning in Songhai City always began with rhythm—both digital and spiritual. Prayer chants from nearby temples harmonized with the rising melody of lev-cars whooshing overhead. The Jiang family's apartment remained modest despite the decades of cultivation lineage coursing through their veins. That was Jiang Mu's way—live simply, raise the boy simply.
"Luo'er! Wake up!" came Xuan Yi's voice from the kitchen.
Seven-year-old Jiang Luo opened one eye.
He didn't like waking up. Sleep was a realm where things were quiet—where no one asked questions, and nothing was expected of him. But breakfast in the Jiang household was non-negotiable.
Dragging himself up, Jiang Luo looked around his room. It was filled with wooden carvings of ancient beasts, hand-sewn spirit dolls, and a small tablet glowing with cultivation scriptures. Above his bed, a poster of Master Yun—the most famous Sword Saint in Songhai—hung at an angle, his blade half-unsheathed in mid-air.
He touched the poster's corner. "Not yet," he whispered to it. "Still hiding."
After dressing in a simple dark tunic and adjusting his copper qi-threaded armband, Jiang Luo slipped into the kitchen.
"Rice porridge with jade berries," Xuan Yi announced, setting a steaming bowl on the table. "You have martial theory class today, right?"
Jiang Luo nodded, eyes scanning the room absently. He often seemed distracted—his thoughts always five steps ahead, chasing patterns adults couldn't see.
Jiang Mu was already seated, sipping tea while reading a cultivation journal on his projection screen. He looked over the top and gave a nod.
"Morning, son."
"Morning, dad."
They ate in silence for a while, until Jiang Luo asked, "Why don't I feel qi like the other kids?"
Xuan Yi paused mid-bite.
Jiang Mu's expression didn't change, but he tapped the rim of his teacup softly.
"You do feel it," Jiang Mu replied calmly. "Just…differently. And that's okay."
Jiang Luo stared at his spoon.
In his school, most kids had already begun sensing the qi veins in their limbs. Some could even mold a flicker of elemental energy. His best friend, Tao Lin, had already learned to summon a tiny wind orb the size of a marble.
But Jiang Luo—he felt nothing. Not the way others did. And yet…there were strange things. The occasional flicker in a lantern when he walked past. The time a falling lev-bus malfunctioned, and it missed him by a hair. The way a wandering beast once stared at him, then turned away.
It wasn't power.
Not really.
Just coincidences.
Right?
---
Cultivation Elementary Academy, West Wing – Songhai City
Jiang Luo walked to school with Tao Lin, a short boy with wild red hair and a mouth that never closed.
"You ever heard of Voidroot pills?" Tao Lin asked. "Teacher Bai says they can unblock your qi sense if you're late bloomer. We should sneak into the alchemy lab and try some."
Jiang Luo shook his head. "Not allowed."
Tao Lin pouted. "You're no fun."
At the academy, the first session was history of cultivation in the digital era.
Teacher Bai, a bald man with electric rings in his robes, stood before a floating chalkboard. "In 4521, the Grand Convergence occurred," he boomed. "Mystical qi reawakened, merging with our digital systems. Since then, cultivators and spirit-tech evolved side by side. And who can tell me what the three major sects of Songhai are?"
Hands shot up. Jiang Luo didn't raise his. He already knew the answer. He always did.
"Swordlight Pavilion, Thunder Lotus Clan, and the Sky Array Guild," a girl answered.
"Correct! Five spirit points!"
In the back, Jiang Luo looked outside the window.
The sky was filled with flying vessels, bird spirits, and the occasional cultivator riding clouds. Below, shops sold qi enhancers and robotic pets. On a far rooftop, a beggar practiced slow martial movements that split the wind.
Songhai was always alive. Always hungry for power, growth, breakthroughs.
But Jiang Luo…was quiet.
---
Evening, Jiang Residence
After school, Jiang Luo was in the backyard practicing basic stance forms.
"Horse stance, back straight. Don't lean forward," Jiang Mu said, correcting his posture gently. "You don't need to chase power, Luo'er. Chase precision."
Jiang Luo exhaled, adjusting.
The stance felt strange—too light. Like the ground barely touched him. But he held it.
From the window, Xuan Yi watched with a soft smile.
"Do you think he'll be okay?" she asked quietly.
Jiang Mu didn't respond immediately. He watched his son's silhouette—small but composed, still as the mountain.
"He's already more than okay," Jiang Mu said finally. "He just doesn't know it yet."
---
Midnight
Jiang Luo lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.
Far above the city, a thundercloud rumbled—not a storm, but a celestial beast's passing. No one noticed.
Except him.
He blinked slowly, feeling a pulse under the world's skin.
But he didn't move.
Just smiled faintly.
Still hiding.
Still waiting.
"A blade does not speak until it's drawn."
---
Songhai City, Year 4685 – Jiang Luo, Age 7
The days passed with rhythm and quiet repetition, and while other children around him leapt forward in cultivation ranks or boasted spirit animal awakenings, Jiang Luo remained ordinary in the eyes of his peers. Unremarkable. Always at the back of the class, always the quiet one, always the one whose name teachers rarely remembered unless marking attendance.
But that was fine with him.
He liked it that way.
Jiang Luo had discovered a secret about the world most people didn't notice. It wasn't about cultivation stages or how much qi someone could manipulate. No, it was something simpler. Subtler.
He noticed that the city pulsed. Not just in the spiritual sense—but in sound, breath, and time. Every building, every neon sign, every spirit-touched leaf in a temple courtyard whispered a rhythm. He walked to school in that rhythm. Breathed in that rhythm. Waited in it.
And though no one saw him do anything extraordinary, strange things continued to happen around him.
---
A Routine Walk… with a Twist
One evening, after his classes, Jiang Luo walked the long way home. He enjoyed passing by the lotus pond near Skylight Temple. Today, however, the pond was blocked off by a yellow talisman tape—spiritual containment seals fluttering in the wind. An older cultivator stood nearby, muttering into a comm-orb, brows furrowed.
A young girl stood frozen near the edge of the water, paralyzed by fear.
A qi-warped turtle beast had surfaced from the pond's spiritual depths. It was an infant—a minor spirit creature, only rank-2 at best—but something had gone wrong. Its shell glowed red with heat distortion. Its eyes shimmered with corrupted mist.
"Back away!" the cultivator warned the girl.
Jiang Luo was already walking.
He passed under the talisman tape casually, hands in pockets.
"Hey! Kid! What are you doing?!" shouted the cultivator.
Jiang Luo didn't answer.
He didn't flinch. He didn't glow with power. He didn't chant a technique or raise a talisman. He simply walked—like a curious boy, casually crossing the pavement toward the snapping, unstable turtle beast.
The creature snarled, steam rising from its shell. But when its gaze met Jiang Luo's eyes, it stopped.
Not a sound. Not a movement.
The beast blinked once.
Twice.
Then turned… and slowly submerged into the pond without resistance.
The cultivator stood frozen, mouth open.
The girl whispered, "How'd you do that…?"
Jiang Luo blinked. "Do what?"
He walked away before anyone else could ask questions.
By the time reporters or sect investigators arrived, there was no sign anything had ever happened.
---
Later That Night
Jiang Luo sat at the family dinner table, stirring his noodles absentmindedly.
"Anything interesting happen today?" asked Xuan Yi.
Jiang Luo shrugged. "Not really."
Jiang Mu looked up from his talisman etching.
He didn't ask either.
That was their silent agreement.
---
Jiang Luo's Room – Midnight
While other children of the city dreamed of flying swords or dragon ascensions, Jiang Luo quietly stacked wooden blocks on his floor.
Not for play.
Not out of boredom.
He was testing a theory.
Ten blocks, perfectly balanced. Then eleven. Then twelve.
Each time he added one, he shifted slightly, making tiny adjustments—not to the stack, but to the air around it. He had no cultivation base, no known qi manipulation.
And yet, the blocks never fell.
Not once.
By morning, he'd built a tower thirty-six blocks high—impossibly tall for their shape and balance.
When Xuan Yi entered the room to wake him, the blocks had already been disassembled. Neatly stored. No evidence left behind.
She smiled and ruffled his hair.
"Sleep well?"
He nodded, yawning.
She never saw the ghost of a diagram he'd drawn on his window, faintly glowing before vanishing in the daylight.
---
At School – A Friend's Trouble
Tao Lin was having a bad week.
His father, a mid-tier cultivator from the Thunder Lotus Clan, had just been suspended after a botched mission in the Blackmist Tunnels. Rumors spread fast, and Tao Lin's classmates avoided him like spiritual plague.
"You should've seen the way Lin Feng looked at me," Tao muttered, sulking during lunch. "As if I was dirt."
Jiang Luo didn't say anything.
But later that day, when Lin Feng—the school's arrogant sword prodigy—was boasting about his father's new sect deal, a strange thing occurred.
Lin Feng's blade, proudly on display during sword forms practice, snapped mid-air.
It didn't shatter. It bent—softly, impossibly—and then broke like it had never been properly forged.
No one could explain it.
Lin Feng turned pale. The instructor ordered a full qi-forge investigation.
Jiang Luo didn't say a word.
But that afternoon, he gave Tao Lin a fruit bun and said, "Don't worry about idiots."
Tao grinned. "You're weird, but thanks."
---
The Principal's Attention
"Jiang Luo?" said Headmaster Ren one day.
The entire classroom turned toward him. It was rare for the headmaster of a public sect academy to visit classes himself.
"Yes?" Jiang Luo replied.
"You're quiet," Ren said, narrowing his eyes. "Too quiet. But your teachers say you pass all your exams. Some of them say… you never write wrong answers. Not once."
Jiang Luo blinked.
Ren leaned closer. "I'm watching you."
Jiang Luo nodded. "Okay."
And with that, the headmaster left.
Tao Lin leaned over and whispered, "I think he suspects you're secretly a genius cultivator with a void spirit."
Jiang Luo replied, "Void spirits aren't real."
Tao nodded seriously. "Exactly what someone with a void spirit would say."
---
Back at Home
Jiang Luo sat with Xuan Yi on the balcony one evening. She was mending spirit-weave garments while sipping warm tea.
"Mom," he asked, "did you always want to be a cultivator?"
She smiled. "No. I wanted to be a chef. But cultivation… it called to me."
"Do you think it's okay if I don't become one?"
Xuan Yi looked at him gently.
"Luo'er, in this city, everyone becomes something. A cultivator, a techweaver, a merchant. You don't have to be loud or powerful. You just have to be kind."
Jiang Luo thought about that.
Then quietly said, "I think I want to be a gardener."
Xuan Yi laughed, brushing his bangs aside. "Then grow the best trees in Songhai."
He nodded slowly, watching the moon rise behind the skyline.
---
A Mysterious Visitor
One cloudy afternoon, a visitor came to the Jiang household.
She was tall, robed in white threads made from celestial spider silk, her eyes blindfolded with a glowing strip of spiritual fabric. She introduced herself simply as "Oracle Ye."
"I am a Dream Seer," she said. "And I dreamt of this address."
Jiang Mu greeted her formally, though his expression hinted at caution.
Oracle Ye stood before Jiang Luo, blind eyes seeming to pierce straight through him.
"You were born under silence," she said. "The world does not see you. The stars do not mark you. The heavens forget you."
She leaned closer.
"But I see your shadow in dreams. And it frightens even the divine."
Jiang Luo tilted his head. "I'm just a student."
Oracle Ye smiled faintly.
"Yes," she said. "You are."
Then she turned and walked away, never visiting again.
Xuan Yi closed the door softly.
Jiang Luo returned to his room, humming.
---
The Forest Behind the School
There was a small abandoned forest patch behind the academy—once a training ground, now overgrown and forgotten. Most students avoided it, claiming spirit beasts had nested there, or that rogue qi storms had warped the space.
But Jiang Luo liked it.
He often wandered there alone, picking up broken sticks or drawing symbols in the dirt.
One afternoon, a stray wolf spirit approached him—its fur matted, one eye glowing with corrupt qi. It snarled lowly, breath ragged.
Jiang Luo knelt calmly and placed a hand on the dirt.
The wind shifted.
The wolf blinked.
Then turned and disappeared into the mist.
He stood up, brushed off his pants, and returned in time for spell theory class.
---
Conclusion of Childhood Years
The years flowed gently for Jiang Luo.
No great incidents. No dramatic revelations. No sudden awakening or explosion of hidden power.
He helped Tao Lin pass exams. Cleaned the temple garden on weekends. Read ancient texts even the instructors skipped. Learned to cook rice with perfect texture. Played quietly with a stray cat who visited his windowsill every morning.
To outsiders, he was a simple boy. Unremarkable. Average.
But behind those still eyes was a mind weaving delicate threads into place, one pattern at a time.
And deep beneath the surface of Songhai City, something ancient stirred—watching him.
Waiting.