Chapter 4: The Star-Born Prince

  The pregnancy of the Red Lotus Princess was not a medical event; it was a meteorological phenomenon.

  For twelve months, the Liu estate was bathed in a strange, localized weather system. While the rest of the Southern Palace experienced the usual seasonal drifts of the celestial calendar, the courtyard where the Princess resided remained stuck in a perpetual, vibrant spring. Flowers refused to wilt. The koi in the ponds grew to twice their size, their scales shimmering with a faint golden luster simply from swimming in the same water table as the unborn child.

  The Princess herself had changed. She did not waddle or swell with the edema of mortal childbearing. Instead, she moved with a terrifying grace, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. Her skin had taken on the texture of polished white jade, and her eyes held a constant, serene luminescence.

  Servants whispered that she didn't eat food anymore—she simply inhaled the morning mist and drank the dew from the lotus leaves.

  Lord Liu spent his days pacing outside her chambers, his fan tapping a nervous rhythm against his leg. He was a man of high cultivation, but the spiritual pressure radiating from his wife’s womb was enough to make his own Golden Core tremble.

  "It has been a year, my lord," the Chief Steward whispered, bowing low. "The astrologers are... confused. The stars above the house are in a knot."

  "Let them be confused," Lord Liu muttered, watching a cloud of five-colored auspicious vapor swirl around the roof tiles. "We are harboring a dragon. Dragons do not follow the schedules of men."

  Then came the 9th day of the 9th month—the Double Yang Festival.

  The energy in the air shifted from serene to explosive. The sky above the Southern Palace turned a deep, bruised purple. Thunder rumbled, not with the sound of storms, but with the rhythmic beating of war drums.

  Boom. Boom. Boom.

  Inside the delivery room, there were no screams of agony. The midwives, usually bustling with hot water and towels, stood frozen against the walls, their eyes wide.

  The room didn't smell of blood or sweat. It smelled of heavy, ancient sandalwood and ozone—the scent of a temple after a lightning strike.

  "My lady," the head midwife gasped. "The light... it’s blinding!"

  The Red Lotus Princess sat upright on the bed, her back straight, her hands resting on her knees in a meditative posture. She wasn't pushing; she was releasing.

  A pillar of golden light erupted from the roof of the Liu estate, piercing the clouds and connecting the earth to the zenith of the sky. The wind howled, tearing the blossoms off the peach trees in the garden and swirling them into a vortex around the delivery chamber.

  And then, silence.

  The light condensed, collapsing inward until it formed a small, solid shape on the silk sheets.

  There was no crying. No wail of a newborn adjusting to the harsh air of the world.

  Lord Liu burst into the room, his sword half-drawn, fearing an attack. "What happened? I saw the sky tear open!"

  He stopped.

  On the bed, sitting amidst the golden silk, was a boy.

  He was not wrinkled. He was not covered in blood. His skin was smooth, glowing with a faint, healthy flush. His hair was already thick and black, falling to his shoulders. But it was his eyes that froze the blood in Lord Liu’s veins.

  The infant looked up at him. The eyes were dark, intelligent, and terrifyingly calm. They were not the eyes of a baby; they were the eyes of a monarch surveying his new domain.

  The boy blinked once, then looked at his own hands, flexing the small fingers as if testing the controls of a new machine.

  "He... he didn't cry," the Princess whispered, reaching out to touch the child’s cheek. She flinched slightly, as if expecting to be burned, but the skin was soft and warm.

  Lord Liu sheathed his sword and approached slowly. He felt a profound instinct to kneel, but he fought it down. I am the father, he told himself. I am the head of this house.

  "A boy," Lord Liu breathed. "Born on the Double Yang. Born of golden light."

  He looked at the child, and the child looked back. For a second, Lord Liu felt naked, as if this infant was judging his cultivation level, his net worth, and his moral character all in a single glance.

  "We shall name him," Lord Liu announced, his voice trembling slightly with the weight of the moment. "Changsheng. Liu Changsheng."

  Long Life. Eternal Life.

  The baby’s lips curled into a small, almost mocking smile. It was as if he found the name amusing. Eternal life? the expression seemed to say. I invented it.

  Time in the Liu household began to move at a frightening pace.

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  While other children were learning to crawl, Liu Changsheng was walking with his hands clasped behind his back, inspecting the feng shui of the garden.

  By the age of one, he refused to sleep in a crib, demanding a meditation mat made of woven spirit-grass.

  By the age of two, he had dismissed three tutors.

  "The teacher knew less than the student," Lord Liu explained apologetically to the weeping scholar who had just been fired.

  "He corrected my recitation of the Dao De Jing!" the scholar sobbed, clutching his inkstone. "He told me my understanding of the 'Void' was shallow and derivative! He is two years old, my lord! Two!"

  Lord Liu sighed, handing the man a heavy bag of gold coins. "He is... special. Please, speak of this to no one."

  By the third year, Changsheng looked like a child of seven. His body grew as fast as his mind, fueled by the immense spiritual reserves of his soul. He was beautiful, with features that seemed carved from cold marble, but there was a distance to him. He didn't play. He didn't laugh at toys. He spent his days in the library, reading scrolls at a speed that blurred the pages.

  But there was one thing that obsessed him.

  Every evening, just as the sun began to set, the young Changsheng would stand on the balcony of his pavilion, staring toward the center of the estate. Toward the inner garden.

  He was looking for something. A memory that scratched at the back of his mind like a phantom itch.

  One afternoon, in the third year of his life, Changsheng sat with his parents in the main hall. The tea was hot, the incense was fragrant, but the boy was restless. He drummed his fingers on the table—tap, tap, tap—a rhythm that Lord Liu found disturbingly familiar, though he couldn't place why.

  "Father," Changsheng said suddenly. His voice was melodic, clear, and carried an authority that cut through the ambient noise of the house.

  Lord Liu put down his teacup. "Yes, my son?"

  "I have read the inventory of our estate," Changsheng said, his dark eyes locking onto his father’s. "We have fields of spirit herbs. We have armories of refined steel. We have jade from the Western mines."

  He paused, leaning forward. "But these are mundane things. Does our family possess... a True Treasure?"

  The room went quiet. The Red Lotus Princess exchanged a nervous glance with her husband.

  "Treasure?" Lord Liu asked cautiously. "What sort of treasure do you seek?"

  "Something that shines," Changsheng said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Something that radiates violet light. Something that touches the sky."

  Lord Liu felt a chill run down his spine. He had never taken the boy to the inner garden. The High Walls around the Heaven-Reaching Tree were forbidden to everyone but the head of the house.

  "How do you know of such a thing?" Lord Liu asked.

  Changsheng didn't answer. He just stared, and in that stare, Lord Liu saw a flash of that golden, tyrannical light that had descended from the sky three years ago. It was a look of pure, unadulterated greed.

  "We do," the Princess interjected softly, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. "We have the Heaven-Reaching Tree."

  "The Heaven-Reaching Tree," Changsheng repeated the words, tasting them. A shiver of delight visibly ran through his small frame. "The name... it resonates with me."

  "It is a family heirloom," Lord Liu added quickly. "It shimmers with purple energy and produces the Seven Treasures. Years ago, the Jade Emperor himself desired it, but we... we could not give it to him."

  Changsheng’s eyes narrowed. "The Jade Emperor desired it? And he didn't take it?"

  "He could not," Lord Liu said with a hint of pride. "It is bound to our blood."

  "If even the Master of Heaven wanted it," Changsheng stood up, kicking his chair back, "then I must see it. Immediately."

  "Changsheng," Lord Liu warned. "It is late. The vapors in the inner garden are strong—"

  "Now, Father."

  It wasn't a request. The air in the room grew heavy. The shadows stretched toward the boy. For a moment, Lord Liu saw the silhouette of a massive dragon coiling around his three-year-old son.

  Lord Liu sighed, defeated by his own child. "Very well. Follow me."

  The walk to the inner garden was silent. Changsheng walked with a stride that was too long, too confident for his age. He didn't look like a child following his father; he looked like a general inspecting a captured fortress.

  They reached the heavy iron gates. Lord Liu unlocked the seals with a wave of his hand, the heavy metal groaning as it swung open.

  A blast of warm, sweet air hit them.

  And there it was.

  In the center of the courtyard, rising like a pillar of solidified dream-stuff, was the Heaven-Reaching Tree. Its bark was like dragon scales, shimmering with iridescent hues. Its leaves were not green, but translucent gold and violet, chiming softly in the wind.

  But it was the light that captivated them. A pulsating, rhythmic violet aura that expanded and contracted, breathing life into the very air.

  Changsheng stopped dead in his tracks.

  His eyes widened. His small mouth fell open. The "Human Soul" inside him—the soul made of pure desire—suddenly woke up and roared.

  This is it, the voice inside him screamed. This is why I fell. This is why I suffered the birth. This is mine.

  He took a step forward, his face flushed with ecstasy. "Beautiful..." he whispered. "It is more beautiful than the sun."

  He could see them now. Hanging amidst the branches were vague, glowing shapes. The Seven Treasures. He couldn't make out their forms yet, but he could feel their power. They were dense, heavy with karma and luck.

  "The Seven Treasures..." Changsheng murmured, reaching out a hand as if to grab the light from across the courtyard. "They are... talking to me."

  Lord Liu watched his son with growing unease. The boy didn't look like a child admiring a tree. He looked like a starving man looking at a feast.

  "Changsheng," Lord Liu said gently. "You may look, but do not touch. The spiritual pressure is too strong for a child."

  Changsheng ignored him. He walked until he was standing at the base of the tree. The violet light washed over him, dyeing his skin in purple hues. He tilted his head back, bathing in the radiance.

  "I will come here every day," Changsheng declared, his voice thick with obsession. "I will bring incense. I will bring wine. I will worship this tree until it gives me its secrets."

  High above, hidden within the dimensional folds of the tree’s canopy, seven ancient consciousnesses stirred.

  The Seven Treasure Tathagatas looked down. They saw the boy. They saw the golden soul burning inside the mortal flesh. And they recognized it.

  It is Him, the Tathagata of Many Treasures signaled to the others. The Greedy One from the High Throne. He has found us.

  He has worn a mask of flesh to deceive the laws, the Tathagata of Fearlessness responded. But the hunger is the same.

  Down below, Changsheng didn't hear them. He only saw the light. He fell to his knees, not in submission, but in adoration of the object that would eventually be his undoing.

  "Mine," the boy whispered into the dirt. "Finally."

  Author’s Note: The Prodigy & The Date

  1. The Double Ninth Festival (Chongyang Festival):

  Changsheng is born on the 9th day of the 9th lunar month. In Chinese numerology, "9" is the number of Yang (masculine/dragon/active energy). A double-nine is pure, overwhelming Yang energy.

  2. The Name "Changsheng":

  The name means "Long Life" or "Eternal Life." Lord Liu names him this hoping for his longevity. The irony, of course, is that the boy is already an immortal soul who gave up eternal life to come here. The name is almost a joke to him.

  3. The Obsession:

  Notice how quickly Changsheng switches from a calm genius to an obsessed fanatic when he sees the tree. This is the Human Soul at work. He is defined by this one desire. This flaw is what makes him vulnerable.