The grand mansion sprawled before them, its palatial halls and temples towering majestically, casting a golden glow in the setting sun. The scene was both solemn and majestic, evoking a sense of reverence as if one were approaching a divine realm.
Yet, beneath the surface of this magnificent, celestial-like architecture, dark currents of tension and danger brewed. In a vast hall, the atmosphere was thick with unease. Several elders sat in a row, their faces stern and their symbols flashing ominously, signaling imminent conflict.
The life of the young child was hanging by a thread, and the theft of the Supreme Bone had caused a major stir among the upper echelons. These esteemed elders had been summoned, for such matters could not be concealed from them.
Though many of these elders usually secluded themselves from worldly affairs, some having not appeared before the clan for decades, they were all roused from their seclusion.
“A Heavenly Supreme being, harmed within our clan? Are we defying heaven itself? There’s no need for discussion—execute the poison woman by slow slicing immediately!” one elder roared in fury.
“Her grandfather and other clan members are formidable. Executing her in silence would bring countless troubles. The capital will be rife with speculation and rumors, and the Supreme Bone will inevitably be exposed,” another elder spoke calmly.
“Even if the Emperor himself were to commit such an act, there must be an explanation to the world. What more to say of her family? Are you trying to protect her, letting personal feelings outweigh justice and law?” The elder opposite asked coldly, his gaze filled with the grandeur of celestial bodies, his aura so intense it crushed the table.
The hall was thick with the scent of gunpowder, lightning flickering as if preparing for a storm.
The child lay on the brink of death, held in someone's arms, surrounded by a potent aura of divine energy that sought to sustain him and prevent him from slipping away.
“We will deal with her in due course. For now, the focus must be on the Supreme Bone. It must be preserved; it is the Supreme of our Shi clan and must not be allowed to perish,” said an elder bathed in red aura, his presence commanding and calm.
“Fifth Elder, what do you mean?” asked the elder who resembled a golden lion, rising to his feet. “It must be removed and reattached to Hao’er. It belongs to him and no one else can claim it.”
“It is extremely difficult to reattach it immediately,” another elder responded.
“Does the fact that Yi’er is from your line mean you will shield him to the end? The Supreme Bone must go to its rightful owner,” the golden lion-like elder declared.
The room was filled with the flashing of divine energy, and the hall seemed to roar with the intensity of a tempest, shaking with divine resonance.
“Fourth Brother, I am not protecting anyone,” the elder resembling a blood phoenix said, rising and pointing at the child. “Look at this child, so weak. Even with the finest medicine, he is unlikely to recover, let alone nourish the Supreme Bone.”
This statement silenced much of the argument. The child's frail state made it clear that his survival was uncertain.
“Better to forgo the Supreme Bone than to violate clan rules. Both mother and child should be executed,” said the most hot-tempered elder.
This suggestion startled everyone. Was it not enough that the clan had lost one Supreme without also allowing the death of another?
“Second Brother, calm yourself. Yi’er is still a helpless child. This matter is not his fault. He has the potential of an ancient sage or deity and should not be dragged into this,” someone attempted to mediate.
“Look at this ignorant child, reduced to this state. He has even threatened to die alongside his mother if she is killed. Can you still spare this evil woman?” The elder’s voice was cold, his aura radiant and intense, flowing with formidable energy.
“How to deal with the evil woman is a matter to be settled later. For now, let us focus on the Supreme Bone,” another elder suggested, who had not appeared for two or three decades.
The elders nodded in agreement. The Fourth Elder and the most volatile elder shared a silent understanding. They knew the clan could not allow the disappearance of a Supreme or the extinction of a rare bloodline.
Days later, news arrived that the Supreme Bone was stable within Shi Yi’s body, enveloped by a powerful vitality, essentially fused into a single entity.
“Despicable,” the Fourth Elder growled, feeling powerless. The implications were clear, and he was deeply troubled, holding the frail child.
The child’s breath was weak, his eyes dim and lifeless. Despite being nurtured by the clan's strongest, recovery seemed impossible, and his pallor grew increasingly grave.
The clan sought numerous elixirs, but none were effective. The child's face grew ever paler, he coughed frequently, and his body trembled uncontrollably, perpetually cold.
After half a month, his condition worsened further. His once bright eyes lost all sparkle, his body appeared shriveled as if he had aged several months in a short time.
“Am I your Fourth Elder?” the child asked weakly, his eyes devoid of life.
He was deteriorating rapidly, his body as if drained by an abyss, reducing him to a state akin to a mere few months old, losing his former vitality and nearly unable to recognize those around him.
The elder, filled with sorrow, gently patted him, trying to comfort him to sleep.
“Why do I forget the people around me so quickly? Everything is getting more and more blurry,” the child lamented, struggling to remember.
Once a bright and lively child, he had become a shell of his former self, leaving many servants heartbroken and unable to bear the sight.
Days later, speaking had become laborious for him, his eyes devoid of any light. He looked at the little girl standing by his bedside, tears in her eyes, and asked in confusion, “Sister, who are you?”
The pretty little girl wiped her tears and whispered, “I’m A-Man. Young Master, don’t you remember me?”
“A-Man, that name sounds so familiar. Why can’t I remember?” the child tried to recall, his eyes blankly staring at the ceiling, his former vivacity gone.
The little girl cried, trying to muffle her sobs, her tears streaming down. She finally whispered, “I heard the Fourth Ancestor say you are a Supreme, unmatched by anyone, but you were harmed.”
“I am a Supreme,” the child murmured.
“Yes, you are a Supreme, born a Supreme. Little one, you must get better,” the little girl cried.
“I will, I’m a Supreme. I will get better,” the little one whispered.
“Oh, I remember now. You’re Sister A-Man, who told me many stories and said you would take me to see the Red Feather Crane. You were so kind to me,” the little one suddenly recalled who the girl was.
“Yes, Young Master, you must remember you are a Supreme and don’t forget me. I am A-Man. Everything will be alright,” the little girl sobbed, her eyes red and swollen.
“Mm,” the little one nodded vigorously, then seemed to remember something else. “I think I have some memories now. There were also some older brothers and sisters. Why haven’t they come?”
“Other children of the servants can’t come here. Young Master Shi Bin and the others have all gone into seclusion for training,” the girl forced a smile.
In recent days, other children from the clan had gradually stopped coming until they no longer appeared. Even the clan uncles and aunts who used to visit him were now rarely seen.
The little one’s condition continued to worsen, no longer the wise, brilliant child destined to become a powerful figure.
No one in the clan spoke about it directly, as they were not so superficial, but their visits became fewer and more distant, giving an impression of coldness that the small child could not comprehend.
Eventually, the little one’s condition deteriorated to an extremely severe state, unrecognizable even to A-Man and the Fourth Elder.
“Young Master, you must remember, you are a Supreme, and don’t forget me. I am A-Man,” the beautiful little girl stood by the bed, crying, her eyes swollen and red.
But the little one could no longer speak, unable to form words.
A month later, Shi Ziling returned but did not find Thirteen Elder. Upon entering the residence, he immediately sensed something was amiss; the atmosphere was strange.
“Hao’er?” he demanded.
When the couple saw the little one, they were shocked and trembling. Was this a child of around ten months? Why was he so weak, so frail, with eyes lacking any light? Where was the former vitality and wisdom?
The frail little one, upon seeing the couple, instinctively opened his small hands, smiling without care, as if feeling a sense of familial warmth and wanting them to hold him.
“Hao’er!” Shi Ziling roared, his eyes almost bursting with rage. His father was missing, and his young son had been harmed, driving him to the brink of madness.
“My child, what has happened to you?” the little one’s mother nearly fainted, grabbing him tightly in her arms.
“Ziling, it is my fault for not taking care of Hao’er properly. I shouldn’t have let others feed him. Please punish this old man,” the elder who resembled a golden lion said in pain.
“What exactly happened?”
When Shi Ziling learned the truth, he was consumed by rage. His black hair stood on end as he wielded a golden war spear, surrounded by an aura of symbols. With a thunderous roar, he thrust the spear, sending an entire palace flying, heading straight for the residence of Shi Yi’s line.
“Eleventh Elder, calm down. We will give you an explanation,” a group of people rushed in upon hearing the commotion.
The title “Eleventh Elder” did not imply there were ten older brothers but rather indicated his position as the eleventh in the current generation. It was a designation for familial unity and integration.
“Get out!” Shi Ziling’s eyes blazed as the golden divine spear swept through the air, symbols filling the sky like a surging sea, striking with celestial fury.
With a deafening crash, the crowd was thrown out, all spitting blood as their protective auras shattered.
Shi Ziling, like a golden war god, was bathed in roaring golden flames. Holding the war spear, he advanced with determined steps, his eyes blazing with divine light. His voice was icy as he declared, “Whoever dares to block my path will be killed, regardless of who they are or where they come from.”
“Eleventh Elder, don’t be reckless,” a young man stepped forward to block the way.
“Reckless? Hahaha,” Shi Ziling laughed maniacally, his gaze cold. “You are Yi’er’s close uncle, aren’t you? How dare you bully our line!”
He thrust the golden war spear forward, its divine light immense, countless symbols forming into a series of light-spear projections, emitting overwhelming radiance as they flew forward.
“Pfft.”
The young man from the other side attempted to counter but was ineffective. His weapon broke, and his treasured artifact shattered, before being pierced through the chest by a golden divine spear, sent flying far away. With a thud, he landed on the gate of a grand palace, coughing up blood, his eyes filled with horror at the vast disparity.
“Ziling, don’t be reckless. The evil woman can be dealt with by you, but Yi’er is still a child. You cannot kill him,” a group of elders appeared.
“Get out of my way! When my son suffered, where were you? She broke one of my son’s bones; I’ll break a hundred of her son’s bones!” Shi Ziling roared, tears in his eyes.
Returning to the clan, seeing his once adorable and intelligent son now in such a state, his heart twisted and bled.
“Boom!”
Shi Ziling slashed with the golden war spear, causing a celestial roar. It was as if all the gods in the heavens sang together, and the rumbling incantations echoed deafeningly.
The elders blocking the way were all blasted away, spitting blood in shock.
Zhang Ziling, thinking of his son, felt his heart wrenched in agony. The little one, a Supreme who had his bones stolen, was pitiful. As he wept, he prepared for a great slaughter.
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