The Sky Continent was a world where strength ruled all, and within it stood the Great Xia Dynasty, a land of ancient legacies and rising powers. Deep within its territory lay Feather City, home to the Mu Clan Manor.
The northward courtyard of the Mu Clan Manor was quiet in the way that only a child's afternoon can make a place quiet — unhurried, soft, and entirely unconcerned with the rest of the world.
A six-year-old boy, his features already carrying a hint of calm maturity beyond his years, sat on the stone ground.
This boy's name was Mu Chen. Beside him, a four-year-old girl with bright, inquisitive eyes moved with a restless energy. This was Xiaoyu. To any passerby, they looked like any other siblings or playmates within a noble clan, but Mu Chen was anything but ordinary.
To understand the nature of the boy, one had to look back to when he was only two months old. In this world, the path of cultivation began with sensing spiritual energy, forming a foundation, condensing a golden core, and ascending through realms that eventually touched divinity itself.
When Mu Chen was a mere infant of two months, Mu Xiao had presented his son with a spiritual sword—a prized treasure capable of flight and energy manipulation.
"Careful… it's still a weapon," Liu Yan said softly, watching the child's tiny hands reach forward.
"He's just a baby," Mu Xiao replied with a faint smile, though his tone carried caution.
The moment Mu Chen's fingers closed around the hilt, reality seemed to shudder.
"Wait—"
Before either of them could react, the sword did not crack—it disintegrated. The metal and spirit-runes turned into fine gray dust, slipping silently through the infant's grip.
Mu Xiao froze. "What… was that?"
Liu Yan's voice trembled. "The sword… it just—disappeared…"
Neither of them moved. Their breathing halted, their minds unable to process what they had just witnessed. The space where a high-grade spiritual weapon had existed was now empty.
After a long, suffocating silence, Mu Xiao spoke again, his voice lowered. "That wasn't breaking… it was erased."
Liu Yan slowly shook her head, her gaze locked onto the child. "Xiao… what did we give birth to?"
In that moment, a realization settled between them—quiet, heavy, and irreversible. This was not talent. This was not genius.
They had given birth to a bug—an anomaly in the very fabric of the world's power system.
The absurdity only grew as the boy aged. By six months, Mu Chen already displayed strength that defied every known law. One afternoon, resting near the training hall, the infant let out a simple sneeze.
The result was catastrophic.
The air ruptured like a struck drum, the shockwave slamming into the rune-reinforced walls. These ancient structures were designed to withstand the training of powerful cultivators—even a golden core expert would struggle to leave a mark.
Yet under that single sneeze, the wall groaned and split apart, a massive fissure spreading across its surface like a spiderweb.
Mu Xiao had been forced to scramble for an explanation. To answer Mu Chen's grandfather, Mu Zhentian, he had to invent a truly pathetic, lame excuse for how the impenetrable wall had been damaged.
That excuse remained a mystery to the rest of the clan to this day, a secret buried under the weight of Mu Xiao's bewilderment.
Strangely, despite possessing power that could rewrite existence itself, Mu Chen triggered none of the usual heavenly signs. There were no tribulations, no tremors, no divine warnings.
The heavens remained still, the earth unchanged, and the world carried on as if nothing had happened.
...
In the northward courtyard, Mu Chen's play slowed. The innocence in his eyes faded, replaced by a sudden sharpness as his gaze pierced through the manor, past the hills of Feather City, and across the tens of miles to the main Mu family residence.
His sight settled on an arena where a fierce competition was unfolding, where his father, Mu Xiao, was locked in a desperate struggle against a main clan genius, Mu Lang.
The air there was heavy with Spiritual Qi as Mu Lang executed the Mu family's ancestral technique—the Heavenly Palm.
The golden glow of the palm print descended with the intent to crush, aimed directly at Mu Xiao. It was a strike intended not just to defeat, but to cripple his father's cultivation and ruin his life.
Back in the quiet courtyard, Mu Chen's lips moved. His voice was small, but it carried a weight that could suppress the stars.
"Roll," he said softly.
Tens of miles away at the Mu family main estate, the world inverted for Mu Lang. Just as his Heavenly Palm was about to make contact with the defenseless Mu Xiao, an invisible force, as heavy and immovable as a monolith, slammed into his chest.
There was a horrific sound of grinding stone and snapping wood as Mu Lang was catapulted backward. His bones creaked and shattered under a pressure he could not comprehend.
In mid-air, he sprayed a mouthful of blood that was thick with fragments of his own internal organs. He flew across the arena with the speed of a falling star, hitting the reinforced arena wall with a sickening thud.
The impact was so great that he was flattened against the stone, momentarily looking like a human-shaped poster pasted to the wall. He then began to slide down the surface slowly, his limp body trailing blood like an egg sliding down the surface of a hot pan.
He landed in a heap at the base of the wall. He struggled to open his mouth, perhaps to cry out or ask what had happened, but only another torrent of blood escaped his throat. His eyes rolled back into his head, his vision went blank, and he fell into a deep, forced unconsciousness.
A deathly silence gripped the entire arena. Thousands of spectators and the clan elders sat in frozen shock.
"What happened?" someone finally managed to whisper.
"How did Lang reach there? He was winning!" another shouted in confusion.
"Did Mu Xiao do it? How could he have such power?"
The elders and spectators began to discuss the event with frantic energy. A low murmur started and quickly grew into a roar of debate as people came up with increasingly absurd logic to explain the sudden, violent reversal of the fight.
None of their theories, however, came close to the truth.
Mu Xiao stood in the center of the arena, his chest heaving as he stared at the crumpled form of his opponent. He slowly turned his head, looking toward the distant direction where his branch of the family resided.
A knowing smile touched his lips. He was one of the few people in the world who knew exactly who was capable of such a feat.
In the northward courtyard, Mu Chen turned his gaze away from the distance. He looked down at the little girl beside him who was still waiting for an answer to her earlier question.
"Nothing," Mu Chen said, his expression returning to that of a normal, playful child. "Let us play."
...
After half a day had passed, the carriage from the main clan arrived back at the Mu Clan Manor in Feather City. Mu Chen's parents stepped out, followed by his grandfather, Mu Zhentian. The old man was in an exceptionally happy mood, his laughter echoing through the halls of the manor.
The branch family had won the competition, a feat that would bring them immense prestige and resources.
Mu Zhentian immediately began barked orders to the household staff with a wide, triumphant grin.
"Hold a banquet! Bring out the fine wine, the best we have!" he shouted, his voice filled with the joy of victory.
"Yes, Family Head!" the servants replied in unison, bowing quickly before rushing off to fulfil the commands. The entire manor suddenly became a hive of activity as tables were set and kitchens were fired up.
Mu Chen's mother, Liu Yan, quickly separated herself from the excitement to find her children. She walked into the courtyard and spotted Mu Chen and Xiaoyu sitting together.
Her heart melted at the sight of them, and she walked over with a motherly warmth radiating from her.
"Are you two hungry?" she asked, her voice soft as she looked between them.
Mu Chen looked up at his mother and gave a heavy, deliberate nod. "Mn," he grunted, as if confirming a matter of cosmic importance.
Xiaoyu, not wanting to be left out, did exactly the same, nodding her head with equal intensity.
Mu Xiao walked up behind his wife, his eyes lingering on his son with a mixture of pride and awe. He reached out and ruffled Mu Chen's hair, his hand large and warm.
"You saved me again today," Mu Xiao said, his voice low enough that only the family could hear, filled with genuine gratitude.
Mu Chen, true to his six-year-old persona, used his small hands to swat at his father's hand in a show of irritation. He pouted and tried to smooth his messy hair, an act that only served to make him look incredibly cute and harmless.
Seeing the "all-powerful" anomaly acting like a typical moody child, his parents couldn't contain themselves and broke out into hearty laughter.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the Mu family held a grand banquet. The manor was filled with the clinking of cups and the smell of roasted meats, all in celebration of the tournament victory.