A Song of Fire and Ice (1)
No matter how formidable a Daoist might be, things never go exactly according to plan. I was living proof at that very moment.
I had been making steady progress toward the Qi Condensation stage when, in the instant my thoughts wandered, one of my meridians rose up in open revolt — and apparently, a few sparks shot right out of my eyes.
"My lord!"
I genuinely thought my eardrums had been torn clean off.
"Just bear with it a moment, please!"
Lily fanned at me desperately, then spun around and shouted over her shoulder.
"Somebody help us!"
"I've brought water!"
It was Vitten, returning from his trip to the kitchen. He came clattering in at a dead run and dumped the entire pitcher of cold water straight over my head.
Honestly, it hadn't warranted all this fuss. My qi and blood had merely been startled — given a little time, I could have settled them on my own.
"Are you all right, my lord? You are, aren't you?"
After dusting me off from head to toe, she murmured in undisguised disbelief.
"How... how on earth can you swallow a salamander's tongue and come out unscathed?"
"An Awoken Ability!"
Vitten cried, slapping his palm against his thigh.
"Have you forgotten, my lady? The young lord is a wielder of cold energy!"
...Was I, now?
"Yes, that's it exactly! The tremendous cold energy innate to the young lord's body must have overwhelmed the salamander's heat!"
Vitten shouted, caught up in his own excitement.
Hm. An interesting theory.
The people of this world weren't stupid, yet they had one peculiar blind spot: no concept whatsoever of severed meridians. They treated it as though it were a blessing rather than a curse, something to be possessed rather than overcome.
Well, I wasn't about to correct them. It was a misconception that did me no harm.
What mattered now was that the gates of Qi Condensation had finally swung wide open.
Of this much I was certain: since the founding of the martial world, no one had ever reached this realm at the age of two.
Laid out as a diagram, the Daoist stages of cultivation look like this:
Qi Refining → Qi Condensation → Core Formation → Nascent Soul → Spirit Transformation → Ascension
On paper it might look almost approachable, but most Daoists die without ever setting foot on the threshold of Qi Condensation.
I had achieved, at two years old, what most men spend a lifetime failing to reach.
Come now — consider what a monumental accomplishment this was...
...Though I'll admit, celebrating felt a little hollow. A creature that once roamed the clouds was now splashing around in a brook with the minnows.
Still, the first scoop of rice had been served properly.
And above all, I had confirmed that spirit creatures truly existed.
According to the bestiary, salamanders weren't even all that rare. The pages were crawling with monsters every bit as powerful as dragons — which meant I could see, quite clearly, what I needed to do next.
So that first scoop carried something in it: hope.
Time flew like an arrow, and I turned seven.
Just how much can be crammed into the short phrase "time flew"? Let me take a brief look back.
First of all, Chris had gone quiet.
That surprised me a little. This was a man who had once sprinted around on his own two feet to save on assassin fees — how had he become so docile?
Had the trend of killing off little brothers finally gone out of fashion?
That didn't mean he'd simply sat on his hands, though. From what I heard, the social and political pressure on me had only intensified...
"Lady Miren didn't send an invitation to the young lord. Only to you."
"Throwing a party while knowing full well it's the young lord's birthday — some people truly have no shame!"
In my view, Chris needed a change of strategy. Instead of wasting time on nonsense like isolation campaigns, he'd have been better off sending more assassins.
After all, people do tend to die when you stab them.
Over those five years, my cultivation had climbed another stage as well.
Core Formation, in a word, meant a mortal golden core. My Daoist energy had overflowed so abundantly that it had packed itself solid in my dantian and crystallized into a core.
What is a human, really, but another animal? Overflow with spiritual essence, and you become a spirit creature yourself.
"Young lord, the carriage is ready."
Thalia delivered her report with a solemn face.
"So the day has finally come."
Vitten was twisting his red beard into knots, visibly anxious.
I faced the mirror and gave my appearance one last smoothing. Normally I couldn't be bothered with this much primping, but today was a slightly special occasion.
"How do I look?"
"You've grown so handsome I hardly recognize you!"
"No one at the party will draw more eyes than the young lord today."
The maids' praise came pouring down.
I couldn't speak to the handsomeness, but cute I certainly was. The snowflake had grown further upward — an icicle now, I supposed.
Escorted by the knights, I made my way to the carriage. Every noble of the empire was expected to make their debut in high society upon turning seven.
And what, precisely, is high society?
"A place where you fight with your mouth instead of a sword."
Vitten summed it up with perfect clarity.
"A duke needs the support of the nobility to claim his title. So today you must look your finest and win over as many people to the young lord's side as you can."
"How?"
"You have an Awoken Ability, don't you?"
Vitten gave a wink.
"There's no need to make a show of it. Float a little ice in someone's drink, or simply shake hands with a cold palm. That alone will be enough — people will take the hint. They'll see that Prince Chris isn't the only remarkable one."
The misconception that I was an Awoken Ability wielder remained alive and well to this day.
The concept of Awakening still didn't sit naturally with me.
One day, a perfectly ordinary person suddenly starts crackling as if struck by lightning and is reborn a superhuman — and there's no guarantee the ability they gain is worth anything. Vitten knew someone who'd learned to converse with fish. What on earth would you do with that?
"Hyah! Hyah!"
I rode the carriage to the ducal estate.
The ducal estate was still absurdly enormous. Simply traveling from one end of the building to the central hall took a considerable amount of time.
The courtyard was packed with noble carriages. Not a single one as shabby as mine — a humble two-horse affair — could be found anywhere, no matter how hard you looked.
Before I'd even climbed out of the carriage, an elderly butler approached and greeted me with a courteous smile.
"Young Lord Iden Esterzy, I presume. What a relief to see you looking so well."
"I didn't bring an invitation."
"No matter, my lord. You are His Grace's heir, are you not? I'll send word ahead myself. Please, come inside."
Following the butler's guidance, I stepped into the estate.
The main hall was already bursting at the seams. A servant cleared his throat at the entrance and announced,
"His Highness Prince Iden Esterzy has arrived!"
At once, countless gazes converged on me.
"So that's the one who was born after freezing the former heir to death."
"I hear he's on terrible terms with Prince Chris?"
"Don't even mention it. Don't even pretend to know. Not if you want to stay out of Lady Mabel's sight."
"Shh — they'll hear you."
...I can hear all of it. Every word.
"What an atmosphere..."
Vitten looked flustered. The crowd was far more hostile than he'd anticipated.
Of course it is, Vitten.
Think how hard my dear brothers have worked over the years to set the stage for today.
Someone's in-law, someone's liege, someone's friend — they were already tangled together by countless threads, practically a single woven cloth.
I turned on my heel and headed for the dessert table. It groaned under piles of sweets of every shape and color.
"Well, children will be children."
"I suppose nobody taught him what kind of occasion this is."
As I began munching on a pastry, the wary stares around me melted into ridicule, and eventually into indifference.
Yes, that suits me fine. I needed time to read the room anyway.
Nibbling my snack, I studied the crowd with care — and then I sensed it. A familiar presence, one I'd known well in my past life.
Across the hall, at the far dessert table, stood a child about my own age. He hadn't so much as touched the food, and his face was drawn and gloomy.
"Who's that boy?"
Thalia narrowed her sharp eyes.
"Young Laszlo. The eldest son of Count Abaro."
"He looks dark. Something the matter?"
"From what I hear, he hasn't manifested an Awoken Ability yet."
"What happens if you don't have one?"
"He can't inherit the title. Simple as that."
Awoken Abilities, of course, didn't manifest in everyone. For some, a day like this was a glittering debut; for others, it was nothing short of a public execution.
I picked up a pastry and walked over to the boy. A scrawny blue-haired lad. The moment he spotted me, his eyes went round with disbelief.
"Y-Your Highness, Prince Iden...!"
As he hurried to bow,
"Save it. Take this."
I held out the pastry I'd brought. With trembling hands, he accepted it.
"Eat."
He obediently put it in his mouth and chewed. Count yourself lucky — if you'd been dealing with Chris, it would've been slathered in poison.
"I hear you don't have an Awoken Ability."
"...I'm sorry?"
"That's why you're standing over here like this, isn't it?"
His eyes twitched with a fine tremor. A seven-year-old couldn't react that way just from being left out of a party.
I reached out and seized his forearm. He jolted in shock and tried to wrench his arm free.
But I was a Daoist wielding strength he couldn't even begin to fathom. Immobilizing his arm completely, I rolled up the sleeve of his formal coat.
The skinny forearm was covered in the marks of abuse. Old scars crisscrossing in every direction, layered over with fresh wounds on top.
"Please — let go of me."
He was on the verge of tears now.
"Why would someone do this to you?"
I turned to Thalia and asked.
"They say that inflicting mental suffering can sometimes force an Awoken Ability to manifest."
Thalia answered in a suppressed voice.
"It's baseless nonsense. But there are plenty of people who believe it, sincerely."
Laszlo kept his eyes cast down, swallowing his shame in silence. In him I saw a reflection of someone from decades ago — a child who had sealed himself off from the inside and was slowly dying.
"By the way, you..."
I looked into his blue eyes and smiled faintly.
"You're an Immortal Prodigy."