In this world, everything did not move by strength.
It moved by **law**.
And the name of that law was—
**Cultivation.**
Cultivation was never merely about increasing power.
It was the process of breaking and reshaping the body,
of tempering the soul until it could endure higher existence,
and of gaining the ability to perceive and comprehend the laws that governed the world.
This world was divided into **ten major realms**,
each realm further separated into **nine sub-stages**.
When a cultivator crossed from one realm to another,
the change was not an increase in quantity—
it was a leap in **quality**.
That was why two cultivators within the same realm,
if separated by stages,
were entirely different monsters.
Techniques followed strict order as well.
They were divided into five fundamental types:
cultivation, attack, defense, movement, and soul.
Every technique possessed a grade—
Human, Earth, Heaven, Divine, and Myth.
Divine and Myth-grade techniques were rarely learned.
They were usually inherited through bloodlines, ancient legacies, or lost inheritances.
They were not taught—
they were **born with**.
Everyone in this world was human.
The true difference lay in bloodline.
Some carried beast bloodlines,
their bodies pushing beyond mortal limits.
Some carried demon bloodlines,
their strength tied to emotion and desire.
And a rare few carried human or heaven-backed bloodlines,
connected to laws, fate, and destiny itself.
A bloodline determined talent.
It determined limits.
And sometimes…
it determined enemies.
The world acknowledged only **ten Divine Flames**.
Each flame possessed the power to end an era,
and at any moment,
it could belong to only **one master**.
No clan truly controlled a Divine Flame.
They were either hidden from the world
or sealed within forbidden lands.
In truth,
knowledge of Divine Flames
was rarer than the flames themselves.
Above all of this,
there existed bodies that were not formed through techniques
and not born through cultivation.
They were born from **existence itself**.
They were known as **Ancient Bodies**.
Only ten were recognized.
Each was bound to its own law,
and each carried its own curse.
At any given time,
no more than ten could exist simultaneously.
Whenever one awakened,
the laws of the world trembled.
The world continued to turn.
Balance remained intact.
Then—
a birth occurred.
Within the inner sanctum of the Dragon Clan,
there was an unnatural stillness.
Here, even the wind moved only with permission,
and aura never surged without cause.
Yet today,
the air was cold.
The child did not cry.
He simply opened his eyes.
At that instant,
every elder present in the sanctum
held their breath.
Long Cangyuan stepped forward,
a blood crystal resting in his palm.
The crystal activated.
At first—
pure royal dragon blood.
Perfect.
Flawless.
Long Shentao slightly turned his head.
"The records match," he said calmly.
Then—
the crystal stopped.
The light remained stable,
yet within it
lay a deep, chilling cold.
And beneath that cold—
something dark.
Long Cangyuan's eyes narrowed.
"This…"
"This is more than dragon blood."
Yet there was no name for it.
The constitution array activated.
The air grew heavy.
No element appeared.
No affinity responded.
Only a void-like signal—
as if the array itself was saying:
*Something exists here…
but it cannot be measured.*
Long Shentao fell silent.
This matched no known constitution.
At that moment,
only one person closed her eyes.
Long Yuecha.
The Dragon Princess looked at her child,
and her soul trembled.
This was her son.
A dragon-born child.
Yet within him—
*This is not void…*
*This is absence.*
She said nothing.
She simply pulled the child closer into her arms.
Far away,
beyond immeasurable distance,
someone opened their eyes.
No signal was sent.
No call was answered.
Only a sensation—
*My blood…*
*lives.*
He smiled.
And then—
did nothing.
Silence filled the Ancestor Hall.
This time, Long Beiming stepped forward.
He looked at the child—
not for a moment,
but for a long time.
"A name is not merely an identity," he said softly.
"A name… is a burden."
Then he spoke the final words.
"His name shall be **Fang Yi Fan**."
There was no celebration.
No objection.
Long Yuecha felt as if she had always known the name.
She held the child closer.
The child remained calm.
Above him lay the name of the Dragon Clan.
And within him—
something
that **no one had yet named**.