Bloodline of the Forgotten Emperor

---"What of Mother? I haven't seen her — where is she?" That question mattered just as much to me. I wanted to know whose arms I could still return to, whose face I'd apparently inherited.

Something flickered across his expression — grief, maybe, gone almost as fast as it arrived. "Your mom. After a month of your birth was fast approaching — the same month the divination said you would die — she disappeared. No one heard from her, or where she went. But after her disappearance, you survived. The Council and I have always believed that's the reason."

A long silence followed. It made me uncomfortable.

"Father, do you blame me for that? For what happened to her?" I needed to know whether I was a burden to him. I didn't want to be a burden to anyone again.

"No, son. You are not." I could feel the emotion under the words. "Whenever I look at you, I see her. Why would that make you a burden?"

My shoulders loosened for the first time since I'd walked in.

"Father, I want to learn how to fight. I want to grow stronger. I don't want Mom's sacrifice to be in vain, and I want to be in control of my own fate." I gave him all the seriousness I had. I didn't want to be helpless again — not in this life either.

He studied me for a while, something like pride surfacing behind his eyes. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to say that? After everything that happened, I half expected you'd want to live the quiet life of a young prince instead. I wouldn't have minded. But I'm glad you chose this."

"If you insist, Dad, I suppose I could still live that quiet life instead. Just say the word." Amusement crept into my voice before I could stop it.

He coughed, pointedly.

"You won't dare." Then, all humor gone: "But before your training begins, I want to ask you one question. It will guide your path from here." The gravity in his tone was sensible from across the room.

"Ask, Father. I'll answer with honesty."

"What is the Dao?"

His eyes — black shot through with gold — bored into mine, waiting.

*Dao. System. What's the Dao?*

Silence. I understood, somewhere under the panic, that this one was mine to answer alone. I scrambled through every fantasy novel I'd ever half-read, searching for the line some protagonist had used in a scene just like this, and came up empty. The heavens themselves seemed to be waiting on my answer, and something told me getting it wrong — or answering with the wrong kind of defiance — would end badly, permanently, without a second chance to reconsider.

I took a breath.

"I am the Dao, and the Dao is me. Without me, the Dao cannot exist. I am the beginning and the end of all path and existence."

My father went still.

What happened next, I couldn't fully track — the sky beyond the window shifted to a deep crimson, thunder rolling somewhere inside clouds that hadn't existed a moment ago, and a vast pressure came down toward me before I could brace for it.

"Scarm!!!"

The word cut through the air, and everything ominous simply — stopped. The weather settled as if none of it had happened.

Then my father laughed. Not politely — a full, unrestrained sound that echoed through the hall.

"Good! Good!! Good!!!"

Three times. Pleased, apparently, with both the answer and the defiance behind it.

"That's the spirit." He sobered, though the pleasure didn't fully leave his face. "But remember what you said today. Elder Mo Xuan will begin tutoring you tomorrow. If I hear you've slacked off even once, you'll wish for death yourself."

Cold water down my spine. I shivered before I could stop it.

"Yes, Father. I promise I won't skip a single—"

"Save it." He cut me off without heat. "Elder Mo Xuan doesn't give free time. Of the disciples he's trained, only three ever made it to the end. The rest died. Weakness is a sin, and the world doesn't forgive it. Neither does he."

"Yes, Father. I understand." My voice came out flatter than I meant it to.

He set the report down at last, looking at me properly for the first time since I'd walked in. "One more thing, before you go. The Spine's collapse — that was orchestrated. An elder, working as a spy for the Sword Empire, wanted you eliminated before you became a problem. The Empire isn't wrong to see you as a threat. They were wrong to think they could get away with trying to kill you."

He rose, crossed to the window, and looked out over the estate — and beyond it, the faint outline of the city his clan governed.

"Grow stronger, Zaitian. You'll be the one to bring that empire down when you do. Remember — weakness is a sin."

"I understand, Father. I'll grow strong enough to make them regret it." I bowed and turned for the door.

Behind me, one last time: "Weakness is a sin, son. Don't let the world ever call you weak."