The memory of that night lingered like an unhealed scar in the hearts of the Bo family, a night marked by both tragedy and a mysterious power that shook the very heavens. It was the night of Bo Jian's birth, a night that would forever be etched into the family's history as one of profound sorrow and strange wonder.
The sky above Huǒmáng Chéng was unusually restless that evening, the stars obscured by ominous clouds that churned and rolled as if stirred by an unseen force. The usually calm night air grew dense with an undercurrent of power, vibrating through the city, drawing the attention of even the oldest cultivators who sensed something unnatural in the air. At the precise moment Bo Jian entered the world, a thunderous roar echoed across the heavens—a sound so deep and resonant it felt as if a mighty dragon had awakened, filling the night with an ancient and commanding presence.
Inside the Bo family estate, Bo Tianzheng held his newborn son in his arms, torn between the overwhelming joy of his birth and the crushing sorrow of what had come with it. His beloved wife, Bo Lianhua, had taken her last breath moments after bringing Bo Jian into the world. At just 35, she had been the heart and warmth of the family, her gentle strength felt in every corner of the estate. Now, her absence was like a vast chasm opening in his heart, a loss too profound to comprehend.
Beside her still form lay Bo Liang, Bo Jian's elder brother, only four years old. Innocent and unaware of the full weight of what had happened, he lay beside his mother, his small hand reaching out to touch her, as if expecting her to stir and hold him close. His wide eyes shifted from his mother's face to his father, his young mind struggling to make sense of what he was seeing, to understand why his mother would not wake.
Tianzheng, overwhelmed by grief, clutched both of his sons close to him, his body trembling from the weight of it all. He held Bo Jian, his newborn, in one arm and Bo Liang in the other, drawing them to him with a protective embrace. His vision blurred with tears, his heart shattered by the loss, but he fought to stay strong for his children, forcing himself to remain upright, to bear the weight of their family's sorrow.
The family gathered around him, equally stricken by the tragedy. Bo Ren, the First Elder, stood nearby, his usually wise and composed demeanor softened by the sorrow etched into his face. Bo Lianhua had been more than just the wife of their patriarch; she had been a cherished member of the family, her kindness and wisdom reaching all who knew her. Bo Ren lowered his head, unable to speak, unable to offer words of comfort in the face of such an overwhelming loss.
The room was thick with silence, a silence broken only by the soft, steady breaths of the newborn Bo Jian—a faint reminder of life amidst the grief that engulfed them all. Outside, the strange storm continued to rumble, its dragon-like roar gradually fading, as though the heavens themselves shared in the family's mourning.
As Tianzheng held his sons close, he whispered a silent vow to his wife. Though his heart was broken, he promised that he would raise Bo Jian with all the love and strength he could give, ensuring that both of their sons would grow up honoring her memory. He looked down at Bo Liang, who had drifted off beside his mother, and then at Bo Jian, whose tiny form held the promise of a future that Tianzheng could barely fathom.
The family spent the night in solemn vigil, gathered around their patriarch and his sons. The storm outside began to fade as dawn approached, the clouds slowly parting to reveal a sky softened by morning light. But even as the night ended, the memory of that fateful evening would linger. Whispers spread across Huǒmáng Chéng of the child born under a dragon's cry, of a family touched by both loss and mystery.
Bo Jian's arrival marked the beginning of a legacy both tragic and wondrous, a life born under a sky that had trembled with ancient power, as if foretelling a destiny that would one day shake the world. And in the hearts of the Bo family, that night would forever remain—a testament to both their grief and the mysterious power surrounding Bo Jian's birth. The memory of Bo Lianhua, the beloved wife of Bo Tianzheng, remained an unspoken ache within the Bo family. Sixteen years had passed since that tragic night, but her loss lingered like a quiet shadow, a presence felt but never mentioned. Her absence was part of the family's foundation, a loss honored silently in every corner of their home.
Now sixteen, Bo Jian was a young man with his mother's calm demeanor and gentle eyes, yet he carried a unique burden that set him apart from the rest of his family. Unlike his older brother, Bo Liang, who had flourished in the family's cultivation path, Bo Jian's body had resisted all attempts to cultivate. On the night he was born, a mysterious energy had surged through him, as if the heavens had marked him. The powerful energy had left his qi pathways sealed, his natural energy flow blocked in a way that defied understanding.
Though the Bo family's expertise lay in the refinement of powerful artifacts and rare cultivation materials—items and legendary qi-infused artifacts used by cultivators to strengthen their abilities—none of their techniques or resources could unlock Bo Jian's sealed pathways. Countless pills and potions had been crafted for him, and rare herbs used to attempt a cure, yet nothing managed to open the qi channels in his body. Alchemists, doctors, and healers from across Huǒmáng Chéng had come to examine him, but each attempt failed, leaving Bo Jian's qi sealed and his path to fighting cultivation blocked.
Bo Jian watched as his older brother excelled in cultivation and in the family's business. Now twenty, Bo Liang had become a diligent cultivator, embodying the family's values of patience, resilience, and inner strength. Each day, he practiced the family's fighting techniques, honing his skills, while also immersing himself in the intricate trade of artifact refinement, learning to evaluate and enhance rare items and materials. As the Bo family's heir, he bore the responsibility with quiet pride, working tirelessly to carry their legacy forward.
For Bo Jian, however, the path was different. Unable to cultivate, he turned his attention to other pursuits, dedicating himself to the study of herbs, alchemy, techniques, and poisons. His mind absorbed every piece of knowledge he could find, and he spent long hours poring over ancient texts, dissecting techniques and formulas that would help him understand the world of cultivation from a different angle. Though he could not train in qi, he mastered the arts of herbalism and alchemy, becoming proficient in crafting complex remedies and powerful, intricate poisons. Over time, his knowledge grew so deep that even seasoned family members came to him for guidance on certain techniques and rare herbs.
Though his father, Bo Tianzheng, had long ago come to terms with Bo Jian's limitations in cultivation, he felt a quiet pride in his younger son's dedication and intelligence. Though Jian could not follow the family's traditional path, Tianzheng admired the strength and resilience he showed in creating his own. Bo Liang, too, recognized his brother's skill and dedication, respecting Jian's depth of knowledge, even if they walked different paths.
As the years passed, Bo Jian's understanding of alchemy, herbs, and poisons became his strength. And though he remained unable to cultivate, he sensed a growing power within himself, a different kind of mastery that allowed him to see the world of cultivation from another perspective. His focus was sharp, his mind keen, and his resolve steadfast. Even as he struggled against the limitations fate had placed upon him, he forged his own path—a path that might one day lead him to a destiny as powerful as any cultivator's, though shaped by knowledge rather than force.
In this quiet journey, Bo Jian grew. Though his family's legacy lay in cultivation and artifact refinement, his legacy would be one of resilience and wisdom, forged not through fighting prowess but through the deep, hidden power of knowledge.