The old man, Balthazar, looked at Sly as if he were a priceless treasure, his golden eyes gleaming with excitement. "What is a Transcendent Dao Pupil?" Sly's father, Arman, asked after a brief hesitation, his voice laced with curiosity and caution.
Balthazar's gaze shifted to his son, and a rare smile crossed his face. "My son, you have given birth to a truly remarkable child," he began, his deep voice filled with pride. "The Transcendent Dao Pupil is a cosmic bodily treasure, one that has been lost to time. Even before the calamity, its appearance was exceedingly rare. It is said to be a gift from the primordial heavens, bestowed only upon those with unparalleled destinies."
Everyone in the room listened intently, captivated by Balthazar's words. This was a story they had never heard before.
"During the era of my great-grandfather," Balthazar continued, "he once ventured into the ruins of an ancient cosmic empire. After facing the trials of the library's guardian spirit, he inherited a fragment of its stored knowledge—a treasure trove of insights from before the calamity. This inheritance earned him the title of Primordial Knowledge Divine Dragon. I was the last to receive that knowledge before the calamity struck, and now I see it will serve a greater purpose with this child."
The gathered family members exchanged stunned glances. It was rare for Balthazar to speak of the past, especially the days before the calamity. Most of them, mere eggs during that chaotic time, had only heard fragments of history passed down from older generations.
Arman hesitated for a moment before asking, "Father, what exactly are the benefits of this treasure?"
Balthazar's smile deepened. "The Transcendent Dao Pupil holds countless advantages," he explained. "It grants its host the ability to see through the boundless Dao, enabling unparalleled comprehension of techniques and laws. It shatters all forms of illusion and deception. It ensures flawless memory retention, allowing one to recall every detail of what they have seen or heard. These are but the simplest aspects. Beyond that… well, let's just say the remaining abilities lie far beyond your current level of understanding."
The room fell silent as the implications of his words sank in. The weight of what had been said began to dawn on everyone.
"The youngest prince is… beyond extraordinary," one of the elders murmured, the awe in her voice reflecting the sentiments of the room.
But just as the atmosphere was brimming with pride, a younger voice broke the silence.
"It doesn't sound that impressive," the boy said, gripping the wooden sword in his hands.
Everyone turned toward the speaker, their expressions puzzled.
The boy, Falkore, only 100 years old and considered a young genius for his age, flushed red with embarrassment as he realized he had spoken out loud. He looked down at the floor, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of their gazes.
Balthazar frowned but did not immediately reprimand him. Instead, he studied the boy for a moment before addressing him in a calm yet commanding tone. "You are right, Falkore. At a glance, it might not sound impressive. But allow me to clarify."
He stepped closer to the boy, his voice steady but carrying the weight of authority. "Even a mortal without the aptitude for cultivation, if blessed with the Transcendent Dao Pupil, could subdue an immortal with nothing more than a gaze."
A collective gasp swept through the room.
In this vast and perilous world, mortals—beings unable to cultivate—were seen as the weakest of the weak. By contrast, immortals were the pinnacle of existence, capable of shattering planets and devouring stars with ease. To claim that a mortal could subdue such a being with just their eyes bordered on heresy. And yet, Balthazar's words left no room for doubt.
Falkore stared at the floor, his earlier bravado extinguished. "I… I didn't know," he mumbled, his grip tightening on his wooden sword.
Balthazar allowed the boy's discomfort to linger for a moment before turning his attention back to the newborn in his arms. His expression softened once more.
"Have you named him yet?" he asked Arman and his wife.
"No, Father," Arman replied. "We intended to choose a name after the commotion had settled."
Balthazar nodded approvingly. "Good. Names carry great power. Take your time to select a name worthy of his destiny. The Dragon Gate Ceremony will be an excellent occasion to announce it."
With that, he handed the baby back to his mother, who cradled him with unmatched tenderness. "Take good care of him," Balthazar instructed firmly. Then, with a swirl of energy, he vanished from the room.
In his mother's arms, Sly was still trying to process everything that had just transpired. The notifications from the system had stunned him. This system… this is way too overpowered!
The information about the Transcendent Dao Pupil flooded into his mind like a torrent. What Balthazar had described was merely the surface.
The Dao Pupils had nine levels, each represented by a distinct color. Red, the beginner level, was the lowest. The highest level—a fusion of all colors—was an existence so profound that it defied comprehension.
Sly's heart pounded as he absorbed the details. The ability to subdue an immortal with just a gaze? That's only a level-two ability!
The full potential of the Dao Pupils was something even he struggled to fathom. A shiver ran through him as realization struck: I'm going to become an unstoppable force.