Six months had passed since I took my first steps into this new world. In that short span, I had achieved what many would deem impossible for someone my age—walking, talking, and comprehending conversations. To those around me, I was a prodigy, a genius even. While some admired me in awe, others whispered in hushed tones, speculating that I might be possessed. Fear crept in—what if they decided to call a doctor or, worse, an exorcist? Fortunately, Kyra, my ever-loyal maid, overheard their rumors and scolded them sharply. Her fierce protection was a comfort, though it did little to dispel my unease.
Where was my father? The question gnawed at me daily. Since the day I was born, I had not seen him. My father, Kian Mo, was the current patriarch of the Mo Clan, yet his presence remained a distant concept. Whenever I asked my mother when I might finally meet him, she would smile softly and reply, "Soon." The same word, every time. It offered no answers, only more questions.
In my past life, I never had the chance to know my parents. They had died in a car accident before I could even form memories of them. This life was different. My mother, Lian Mo, was kind and gentle, the sole source of warmth in a mansion so vast it felt more like a fortress. Her presence was my anchor in this new life. Yet even she couldn't satisfy my growing curiosity about the man who ruled over our family.
Every day, I explored the endless corridors and grand chambers of the mansion. Its gardens were breathtaking, and from my window, I could see sprawling courtyards where clan members trained. Yet, my mother forbade me from venturing outside, citing concerns for my safety. The vastness of the mansion felt less like an adventure and more like a gilded cage.
As I roamed, I gleaned tidbits about my family—the Mo Clan—and the intricate web of relationships within it. My father had met my mother during his travels. It had been love at first sight for him. My mother, on the other hand, had been fleeing a forced marriage. Their story was one of passion and defiance, yet it made me wonder about the burdens they had faced to be together.
My father already had four wives before he met my mother, making me the youngest of his eleven children. Each of my siblings was enmeshed in the politics and power struggles of the clan. As I came to know them, I realized that each had carved a distinct identity:
Ethan Mo, the eldest at ten years old, was the natural heir to the clan. Stern, disciplined, and focused, he bore the weight of responsibility with unwavering resolve. Yet his dedication often made him distant.
Dorian Mo, nine years old, was a sharp and cunning strategist. His charisma and intelligence made him a natural rival to Ethan, and I could sense the tension between them. A future clash seemed inevitable.
Serena Mo, also nine, was my closest sibling. Strong-willed, loyal, and adept in martial arts, she took it upon herself to look out for me. Her protective nature and warmth set her apart from the others.
Maximus Mo, eight, was a warrior through and through. Brave and honorable, he commanded respect even at his young age.
Alec Mo, seven, was the scholar of the family. Quiet and contemplative, he preferred strategy to combat but excelled in both. His sharp intellect made him an enigma.
Vivian Mo, six, was a master negotiator in the making. Her wit and perceptiveness made her a natural diplomat.
Ronan Mo, five, was rebellious and adventurous. His fiery temper often got him into trouble, but his heart was undeniably pure.
Zara Mo, also five, was stealthy and fierce. Her agility and precision in combat were unmatched among her peers.
Kai Mo, four, was a bundle of energy and athletic prowess. Competitive and courageous, he thrived on physical challenges.
Liam Mo, also four, was a budding strategist. Pragmatic and assertive, his leadership potential was evident even at his young age.
And then there was me, Jin Mo, the youngest. While my siblings were entrenched in their roles and futures, I was seen as little more than the baby of the family. Except by Serena, who treated me with genuine affection. She was my confidante and playmate, the only one who made me feel truly included.
Life in the Mo Clan was anything but simple. My father's other wives harbored animosity toward my mother, though they dared not act openly. The clan was overseen by my uncle, Darian Mo, the vice-patriarch, in my father's absence. Darian was ambitious, a man whose hunger for power was thinly veiled by his outward loyalty. I knew that if my father ever stepped down, Darian would stop at nothing to seize the patriarch's position.
The rules of the Mo Clan were clear: only the patriarch's children could inherit the throne. This lineage of power was both a privilege and a burden. For now, I was far removed from the politics that consumed my elder siblings. But I knew that this would not last forever. My position as the youngest gave me a unique perspective. I could observe, learn, and plan. I might not have a direct claim to power, but that didn't mean I couldn't carve my own path.
As the days passed, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held. Would I remain in the shadows of my siblings, or would I rise to forge my destiny? The Mo Clan was a world of opportunity and danger, a stage for both triumph and tragedy. And I was determined to play my part, whatever it might be.