Lucian’s world was small.
For now, his life revolved around his crib, the warm arms that carried him, the voices that spoke above him, and the faint flickers of light that his newborn eyes could barely process. But he was learning.
Days blurred together. His body was weak, fragile, but his mind never stopped working. He listened, absorbed, and slowly pieced together fragnts of information about the world he now lived in.
The most important fact? He was different
.
The Duke’s other sons—his brothers—were already showing signs of affinity for this world’s energy. He didn’t know what that ant yet, but it was clear that it was expected. He, however, had nothing.
He hadn’t displayed any special power, and the servants whispered about it when they thought no one was listening.
“Perhaps he’s just slow.”
“Not every child inherits great talent.”
“A sha… a noble born without strength is a burden.”
Lucian ignored their pity. He didn’t need talent. He had sothing better.
He had knowledge.
The more he listened, the more he understood. His father—the Duke of Aldreth—was one of the most powerful figures in their kingdom, ruling over vast lands and nurous vassals.
The kingdom itself was part of a larger empire, though he didn’t know its na yet. What he did know was that cultivation ruled everything. Strength was power, and nobles were expected to be strong.
Commoners could cultivate too, but their growth was limited unless they had the right resources. Bloodline mattered. Wealth mattered. Power determined status.
And he had been born into power. But for how long?
If he didn’t awaken any energy affinity soon, his position would weaken.
His father had many sons. The weak ones would be cast aside.
Lucian needed to prepare.
His body was still weak, his control over it clumsy. But he was improving. He could now move his fingers with precision, could turn his head slightly when he wanted to.
And today, he had a plan.
He had heard enough discussions about energy to understand that it existed within people and in the atmosphere. Cultivators absorbed it, refined it, and strengthened their bodies and spirits.
But what did it feel like?
Lucian needed to know.
As he lay in his crib, staring at the wooden beams above, he focused.
If there was energy in the air, then it had to be around him. He just needed to sense it.
He closed his eyes.
Tried to focus beyond his weak body, beyond his limited senses.
Nothing.
He strained harder, forcing his mind to grasp at sothing, anything—
And then, for the briefest mont…
A flicker.
A sensation just beyond his reach, like a distant whisper in the wind.
Lucian’s heart pounded. That was it.
It was weak, faint, almost nonexistent. But it was there.
Which ant he wasn’t completely without talent.
He could cultivate. He just needed to find the right thod.
A slow, cold smile ford on his tiny lips.
Let them whisper. Let them call him talentless.
By the ti they realized their mistake, it would be too late.
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