Chapter 3: Yu Xuan

Chapter 3: Yu XuanEternal Star Heavenly World,

Yu Clan’s Domain — Yu Clan Ancestral Grounds.

In the vast lands beneath the heavens, few names carried more weight — or pride — than the Yu Clan.

Rulers of the prosperous and spiritually rich Domain, the Yu Clan’s influence stretched across floating cities, mountain-sized sects, and valleys older than most bloodlines.

Their sacred lands were protected by ancient formations, divine beast wards, and one particularly irritable sword spirit sealed under the lotus lake that grumbled during full moons.

Immortal towers speared the clouds. Cranes with gold-tipped wings soared across lakes filled with starlight.

Even the moss glowed with spiritual energy, though no one had ever asked it why.

And yet, for all this glory, today... the entire estate held its breath.

Because someone was being born.

And not just anyone.

Inside the innermost sanctum of the Patriarch’s residence — protected by nine layers of immortal arrays — stood rows of robed Elders, their expressions calm, their spiritual senses honed like blades.



Grand Elders from both the Yu and Huan Clans had emerged from decades of seclusion to be here. And when Grand Elders left seclusion, it usually meant one of two things: someone was dying... or someone was being born who might terrify the heavens.

Within the chamber, elderly female cultivators moved with quiet grace. Though their hair was silver and their faces lined with time, their eyes shimmered — the kind of gaze that made young cultivators freeze on spot.

At the center of it all lay Huan Lianhua — Matriarch of the Huan Clan and current participant in the world’s most painful tribulation.

She looked to be in her late twenties, though she hadn’t aged in centuries. Her hair was pinned into a flawless updo, cascading like moonlight, held by silver petals that floated as if they were part of some aesthetic formation — which, in fact, they were. Because let’s be honest: no matter the realm, aesthetics mattered.

Despite the sweat dotting her brow, her posture remained composed. Her cultivation held firm, even as waves of pain crashed through her.

"It won’t be long now," one Elder said softly.

"You’ve been saying that for ten breaths," Lianhua hissed, her illusion-wreathed eyes narrowing.

The Elder only smiled serenely. "Time flows differently when one cultivates patience."

"Oh, I’ll cultivate your patience into the dirt."

But her retort was drowned by a sharp cry — not hers.

A baby had entered the world.

The attending elder gently caught the newborn and there was a pause.

"He’s... not crying?" someone noted quietly.

The Grand Elder Huan Nainai, also called by children as Great Granny, smiled warmly as she looked at the boy.

Despite her white hair and gentle wrinkles, her presence exuded immortal calm — the kind that made divine beasts sit still and temperamental cultivators lower their heads.

She took the baby gently, narrowed her eyes, and gave him a light — but perfectly calibrated — spiritual tap on the rear.

WAAAHHH—!

"There we go," she nodded. "First lesson: cry loud enough to shake the world."

Outside, the Elders perked up slightly. Though none dared to use divine sense — etiquette still mattered — more than a few exchanged looks.

"Stronger lungs than Fifth Elder’s disciple," someone whispered. It was unclear if it was a compliment.

Inside, Nainai passed the now-bawling newborn to Lianhua. Despite the exhaustion of labor, she remained regal, eyes softening as she gazed down at the child.

He blinked up at her — alert, oddly focused — and grasped her finger with a grip that made her eyebrows rise.

"He’s got my hand strength," she murmured.

"Definitely not mine," came a voice from the now-unsealing doorway.

The spiritual seals peeled away like mist as Yu Changming, Patriarch of the Yu Clan, stepped inside.

Clad in flowing robes embroidered with golden dragons and constellations, his presence was like standing before a tranquil sea — one that could turn into a tidal wave if provoked. His long black hair faded into silver at the tips, his obsidian eyes unreadable, but his gaze softened as it landed on his wife and child.

There was, however, one long-standing issue with Yu Changming.

He was too handsome.

Many young maidens of the domain still hadn’t forgiven the universe for letting him marry someone else.

It had once caused a sect-wide civil war during his youth. A minor one, but still.

"He’s beautiful, Lianlian," he said, walking forward with a rare softness in his voice.

Lianhua gave him a tired side-glare, noting the Grand Elders watching intently.

"If you say that again in public, be ready to be thrown out."

He chuckled. And wisely didn’t push his luck.



The Elders and Grand Elders filed in with respectful bows. A few pretended not to smile, while one muttered, "If he inherits both their tempers, we’re all doomed."

Then... something shifted.

The baby nestled into Lianhua’s arms. His breathing calmed. His hand opened, then closed around her finger again — this time pulsing with something unmistakable.

A soundless vibration passed through the chamber. A gentle hum, like a bell ringing in the soul. Which calmed the souls present in the room.

Everyone felt astonished.

But after few moments, spiritual light quivered, and the protective formations flickered — not in instability, but in recognition.

Several Elders stiffened. The Grand Elders and Yu Changming’s eyes narrowed slightly.

It was not qi. Not divine intent.

It was Soul Resonance.

One that is usually achieved when an ordinary cultivator reaches Soul Nurturing Realm ready to comprehend laws.

The child’s very existence stirred the laws of the room.


He hadn’t taken a breath as a cultivator.

And yet, the world had already responded to his presence.

No one said anything aloud.

But everyone in that room felt it deep in their core:

This child... was not ordinary.

And.

A Monstrous Genius is born in their Clan.

.

.

.

While the spiritual resonance still lingered faintly in the air, the chamber door creaked open once again — not with urgency, but with the soft insistence of someone who didn’t care about all the immortal protocol outside.

A tiny figure toddled in.

She was no more than three years old, dressed in a cloud-patterned robe two sizes big, and wore the expression of someone ready to nap or conquer the world — depending on which snack she’d had last.

This was Yu Lingluo, the adopted daughter of Yu Changming and Huan Lianhua.

Three years ago, during a seemingly mundane outing, the couple had returned with a child in their arms. Rumors had spread faster than talisman fire — most assumed Lianhua had quietly given birth during seclusion. The truth surprised everyone: they had adopted her.

Even at three, Yu Lingluo stood out like a moon among stars. Quiet, observant, yet strangely intense. Her silver hair — cropped short and always a little unkempt — shimmered with faint violet streaks that pulsed under certain light, like the warning glow of a storm cloud on the horizon.

She dashed toward her father with surprising speed, grabbed onto his leg, and looked up with big expectant eyes.

"Father," she whispered, voice soft but serious, "you said my little sibling would be here today."

She didn’t notice her mother at first. Or perhaps, being lazy and a little short, didn’t look high enough.

From the bed, Huan Lianhua gave her an exaggerated, dramatic sigh. "Lingluo... you didn’t even see me. Mother is injured, you know."

That struck like a sword to the heart. The little girl’s brows pinched, and her lips wobbled with guilt.

Yu Changming bent down, scooped her up with one arm, and brought her over to the bedside where the newborn now slept, curled against Lianhua’s arm.

"Look," he said gently, placing Lingluo beside the baby — and in that moment, an unmistakable air of patriarchal dignity settled around him. His tone deepened. His expression grew solemn. "This is your little brother. You’re the big sister now. He’ll protect you one day."



Anyone would wonder, what kind of logic was that?

Smack.

Huan Lianhua leaned over and lightly whacked the back of his head.

"Let our children grow up first before you hand out responsibilities," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Yu Changming cleared his throat.

Meanwhile, Yu Lingluo peeked over the edge of the bed and looked down at the tiny bundle of swaddled cloth in her mother’s arms. The baby was asleep, tiny hands curled like lotus petals, his breathing soft as dream-silk.

"I will protect him," she declared seriously, clenching her small fist with all the strength a three-year-old could muster.

Then, turning to her mother, she asked curiously, "Mother... what’s his name?"

Huan Lianhua and Yu Changming exchanged a glance — the kind only soul-bound cultivators shared after hundreds of shared battles, spiritual heart-to-hearts, and occasional disagreements over which ancient relics should or should not be kept in the living room.

And then they smiled.

"His name," they said in unison, "will be Yu Xuan."

The name hung in the air like a seed cast into fate’s soil — gentle now, but destined to grow into something vast.