The night sky of the floating Yunlai Mountains had never seemed so alive. Stars shimmered like scattered diamonds across an endless black velvet, but tonight, one crimson light streaked across the heavens with unyielding intensity. The villagers whispered in awe, calling it the Crimson Comet, an omen long foretold in the sacred texts of the Celestial Sect.
In the remote village of Lingtian, nestled between jagged peaks that pierced the clouds, a single house stood apart from the rest. Inside, the midwife's hands trembled as she clutched the small, trembling body of a newborn.
"He… he is not ordinary," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the storm raging outside. The child's golden eyes glimmered faintly even in the candlelight, and a strange warmth radiated from his tiny body—a warmth that made the midwife shiver despite the summer chill.
The mother, exhausted and pale, looked down at her son. "Qi Shan… Wei," she whispered, the name rolling off her tongue with reverence and fear. Majestic Mountain of Power…
Lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the swirling clouds that had gathered around the peaks like spectral guardians. The wind howled as if the heavens themselves were announcing the birth of a prodigy destined to shake the foundations of mortal and divine realms alike.
Outside, the villagers trembled. Some knelt in worship, others in fear. For the Crimsom Comet was a harbinger, a signal of calamity and greatness intertwined. Legends told that one born under its streak could rise to command the very heavens—or bring ruin to all who opposed them.
Qi Shan Wei's cries echoed through the house, yet it was not a normal infant's wail. The sound carried an unusual resonance, like the rumble of distant mountains or the first tremor of an awakening volcano. From the moment he opened his eyes, faint traces of prismatic energy—crimson, gold, and shadowy void—danced along the edges of the room.
The midwife dropped to her knees, bowing low. "This child… he carries the Prismatic Flame. The world has not seen such power in a millennium."
His father, a humble cultivator of modest skill, stared in awe, fear, and pride. "He… he is our son? Born under the omen… destined for greatness?"
A sudden gust of wind slammed the door open, and a spectral silhouette of a dragon flickered across the clouds outside. It vanished in an instant, leaving a faint trail of golden sparks in its wake. No villager dared speak. The signs were unmistakable: the heavens themselves had taken notice.
Yet in the stillness of that room, Qi Shan Wei's tiny hand flexed. Though only moments old, his spiritual presence already rippled outward, shaking the foundations of the house. The jade clasp at the side of his cradle glimmered faintly, resonating with a power it had never felt before.
The midwife's eyes widened as she whispered, "May the Celestial Tribunals guard him… for a path of glory and calamity awaits."
Outside, the Crimson Comet continued its fiery streak across the sky, leaving behind a trail that seemed almost alive. In its light, mountains cast elongated shadows, rivers glowed faintly, and every living creature felt the tremor of destiny.
And somewhere deep within the mountains, the primordial energy of the Prismatic Flame—crimson fire entwined with gold lightning and void shadows—acknowledged its new vessel. Qi Shan Wei had been born. The mountain of power had awoken.
Even as the storm raged, even as the comet faded into the night, the first stirrings of a legend had begun.
A legend that would one day command the heavens, shatter realms, and rise as the Emperor of the Prismatic Heavens.
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