Amid the boundless expanse of Primordial Chaos, where stars and worlds swirled in an eternal dance, there existed a realm blessed by the heavens yet veiled in its own enigmas: the Eternal Sun World. This ancient realm thrived under the dominion of countless powerful sects, divine clans, and primordial forces. In the Eastern Region, one name stood above all others—the Dao Emperor Sect, an indomitable force that had reigned unchallenged for millennia.

It was said the Dao Emperor Sect was not born from mortal hands but from the will of the heavens themselves. Its foundation was etched into the fabric of the world by primordial energies, a bastion destined to shape the course of existence. It had birthed nine Ultimate Dao Monarchs, celestial beings who had pierced the mysteries of their Dao and ascended to the unfathomable Primordial Realm. But today, even this hallowed sect held its breath.

For the heavens had chosen this day to deliver a new legend.

In a grand chamber atop the Dao Emperor Sect's main peak, a woman lay amidst treasures that defied mortal comprehension. Yun Mingxia, the sect's matron, writhed in agony that would have shattered the body and soul of a lesser being. Her black hair, glistening like strands of eternal night, was damp with sweat as her hands gripped the silken sheets beneath her. The air around her shimmered with an otherworldly pressure, heavy with the presence of an unseen force.

"Madam, push!" cried the midwives, their voices sharp with urgency.

Even the walls of the chamber seemed to quiver as an inexplicable power surged through the room. The golden formations etched into the walls flared to life, their intricate runes weaving a protective cocoon around Yun Mingxia. Outside, the faint hum of spiritual energy resonated, as if the heavens themselves were watching this event unfold.

In the hallway beyond, Sect Master Qin Wushang stood rigid, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. His golden robes, embroidered with the sigil of the Dao Emperor Sect, shone faintly under the glow of floating lanterns. Yet, his eyes betrayed the unease he felt.

Beside him stood his father, the venerable Qin Jiping, a man whose presence alone could still storms and silence armies. His calm demeanor belied the weight of the situation.

"Father," Qin Wushang said, his voice low but strained, "will she be alright?"

Qin Jiping's eyes, as deep and ancient as a still lake, turned toward his son. "Do not doubt her strength. Mingxia has cultivated the Ethereal Moon Dao, a path as resilient as it is profound. She is prepared for this moment. And remember, the child within her has been nourished by the rarest treasures of this world."

Qin Wushang nodded, though his heart refused to still. He opened his mouth to speak again, but a sharp, echoing cry silenced him.

"Waaah! Waaah!"

The cry pierced through the protective formations, resonating through the Dao Emperor Sect like a ripple in a still pond. Yet, those who heard it felt an inexplicable tremor in their souls, as if the heavens themselves had acknowledged the child's arrival.

The two men rushed into the chamber, their powerful strides faltering momentarily as they crossed the threshold.

The scene within was unlike anything Qin Wushang had expected. Yun Mingxia, her face pale but radiant, cradled a tiny bundle in her arms. The light around her shimmered faintly, as if the heavens themselves sought to protect the mother and child.

As Qin Wushang approached, his breath caught. The infant in Yun Mingxia's arms was no ordinary child. Even in his first moments of life, his tiny form emanated an ethereal glow. His skin was smooth and unblemished, his eyes just beginning to flutter open, revealing pupils that seemed to hold faint traces of shifting starlight.

For a moment, the room fell silent. Even Qin Jiping, a man who had lived for centuries, felt an odd pressure in the air. It was not the pressure of a cultivator's aura, nor the weight of spiritual energy—it was something far more ancient, far more unfathomable.

Qin Li, the newborn, blinked as he took in his surroundings. His infant mind, unbound by mortal constraints, began piecing together fragments of his existence.

"So, I have been reborn," he thought, a flicker of emotion stirring within him. Memories of his previous life emerged like ghosts—his mundane existence as an orphaned college student on modern Earth, his days spent lost in the solitude of books and web novels.

His gaze fell upon the woman holding him, her black hair cascading like a waterfall, her features flawless yet tinged with warmth.

"Is she… my mother?" he wondered, an unfamiliar sense of comfort blooming in his heart.

"Mingxia," Qin Wushang said, his voice breaking the silence. "Are you alright? How is the child?"

"I am fine," she replied softly, her voice carrying both exhaustion and joy. "And he is perfect."

Qin Wushang took the child into his arms, his powerful frame trembling as he looked down at his son. A rare laugh escaped him, loud and full of pride. "Ha-ha! This is my son! My own flesh and blood!"

Yun Mingxia smiled, the weariness in her expression giving way to motherly warmth. "What shall we name him, husband?"

"His name has already been decided," Qin Wushang replied, his tone firm. "If we were blessed with a son, he would be named Qin Li."

The name stirred a faint flicker of humor in Qin Li's mind. "Just like those transmigration stories... even the name stays the same," he thought wryly.

Outside the chamber, the air shifted once more. The powerful hum of the Eternal Sound Drum began to echo through the Dao Emperor Sect, its deep resonance traveling across the land. From the towering peaks to the distant plains, all who heard it paused, their hearts trembling as the announcement reached their ears.

"Rejoice! Qin Li, Young Master of the Dao Emperor Sect, is born!"

As the drum's sound spread further, a ripple of unease followed. In the shadowed corners of the world, forgotten powers stirred, their ancient eyes opening for the first time in centuries. In distant lands, powerful sects turned their attention to the Central Continent, their gazes fixed on the Dao Emperor Sect.

Unseen by all, high above the Eternal Sun World, the formless entity that governed the Heavenly System shifted slightly, its vast consciousness brushing against the threads of fate.

For this child, born amidst heavenly treasures and veiled in celestial mysteries, was no ordinary cultivator. His birth was both a blessing and a harbinger, a storm that would one day shake the heavens themselves.

And though the infant Qin Li had drifted into sleep, unaware of the fate that awaited him, the Eternal Sun World itself seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the chaos that would inevitably follow.