After his drink with his master, Calen spent another day with his mother, Cali, his new father Walford, and his disciple Vinh, before leaving the Hewitt capital to follow his master's command: seek opportunities, grow stronger, and carve his path.
As he soared through the skies, a thought gnawed at him. He had been so busy with cultivation and enjoying his new life in the Flare State that he had forgotten—or perhaps never found the time—to settle an old score in his hometown. The Wyatt Clan, who had treated him and his mother as less than dirt, still lingered in his heart like a shadow. And Horace—the man who harassed his mother for years and bullied her into a forced marriage—remained unpunished.
If not for his master, who knew what fate he and his mother might have suffered?
So Calen turned back.
The familiar mountain rose before him, and at its foot stood the house where he had grown. Modest, weathered, yet enduring. The stone walls carried the pale gray of age, ivy curling along the edges. The courtyard was quiet, the gardens untended but still alive, as if refusing to die no matter how neglected.
Stepping inside, Calen felt the weight of memory. The beams overhead, the polished stone floor, the kitchen tucked neatly by the entrance—all unchanged. His mother's touch lingered everywhere: embroidered cloths, jars of herbs lined in careful rows, and keepsakes of his father placed where they could never be forgotten. Though the years had been heavy, the house still breathed warmth. It had been their sanctuary, even when the clan tried to strip them of dignity.
He walked into his old room. His gaze fell on the bedframe—still cracked, still broken from the day of his awakening. A faint smile tugged at his lips. He remembered the embarrassment of his mother rushing in, her startled laugh, and his own flushed face. A moment awkward then, but now precious.
And then his thoughts drifted further back—to his father.
He remembered how his father had always been kind to him, even when Calen couldn't cultivate. Back then, he thought he was truly crippled, destined to be trash. But now he knew the truth: his spirit root had been sealed.
He remembered the warmth of his father's smile, his hand on his shoulder, the quiet encouragement, and the way he never let Calen feel lesser even when the clan whispered otherwise. The way he would throw him up or play games with him and cheer him when he got sad.
Then came the memory that still cut deepest: the news at age eleven. His father had died. According to his father's cousin Hunter and other elders, he was killed by a spirit beast during an outing. But now, older and wiser, Calen found it suspicious. His father, though, who was said to be a peak Diamond Realm cultivator back then, must have been stronger. And let's say that's not the case; he was stronger than Hunter that time. And yet, he was the only one who died on that expedition.
It smelled of foul play.
Hunter. Horace. They had to know something. And when Calen came for his revenge, he would demand answers.
Resolved, he turned to leave.
But then he froze.
An energy pulsed beneath the floor. Subtle, steady, calling out to him.
Calen narrowed his eyes, extending his spirit sense. The source was clear—it came from below the house.
A crypt. Hidden, sealed, waiting.
Calen's spirit sense guided him downward, and in an instant he appeared within the chamber beneath his childhood home. The air was heavy, ancient, and humming with power. At the center rested a blade—its hilt adorned with a radiant sun.
As he approached, the weapon shimmered, and from its light emerged a familiar presence. A man, tall and lean, his features a little similar to Calen's—handsome, but more mature. His hair was white-blonde, his eyes golden yellow.
"Dad?" Calen whispered, his voice trembling.
The figure smiled, his presence gentle. "My son… you've grown."
Calen's heart quaked. "You… alive. No. You're a spirit sense left behind by Dad."
The man nodded. "Yes. What you see is my spirit sense, bound to this blade."
"I miss you, Dad." Calen rushed forward to embrace the figure.
"I miss you too, son." The figure hugged him, caressing Calen's head. Through that single touch, Calen felt all the love of a father. "I was left behind for this day—for the moment when you were strong enough to learn the truth."
"The truth?" Calen whispered.
His father's voice carried both sorrow and pride as he continued:
"The first thing you must know is my true identity. I am Rai, King of the Sun Empire of the Upper Realm. Betrayed and defeated by my power-hungry brothers, my soul was shattered to prevent reincarnation. I should have perished, but by some miracle, my most trusted weapon—an Eternal Grade spirit tool known as Sun Blazer—sacrificed its sentience to preserve the fragment of my soul and my spirit cores, sending them to the Lower Realm.
One of my spirit cores fused with the fetus of a woman who was suffering a miscarriage. Not only did it save her pregnancy, but it also bestowed upon the child one of my physiques—the Mystic Ultra-Grade Light Physique. Yet the core was so powerful that it sealed itself to protect its vessel from destruction.
The other spirit core, along with the fragment of my soul, fused with Leng Wyatt—your father—when he was on the brink of death from a deadly poison inflicted by his wretched aunt at the age of seven. She sought to weaken him so her son, Hunter, could inherit the Wyatt Clan. From that moment, our souls became indistinguishable. With my knowledge, Leng rose as a genius, achieving Peak Diamond Realm before a hundred years of age and becoming Patriarch of the Wyatt Clan after his own father passed away. But Leng's body was too frail to contain my fragment, knowledge, and spirit core. Though he advanced faster than the cultivation norms of the Lower Realm, his lifespan was limited compared to other cultivators."
Rai's spirit sense paused, his gaze softening.
"Then I met your mother, Cali. She found me unconscious and wounded after a battle with a spirit beast. Cali, an ordinary mortal nearing her forties, nursed me back to health. We grew close and, in time, became intimate. I shared my essence with her to save her from a serious illness and made her a cultivator. After eight decades together, you were born—a miracle that should have been impossible. My body had been rendered sterile by poison and the withering of my insides due to my powers, and Cali was barren.
When you were conceived, my second spirit core latched onto the fetus. During birth, it transformed into a spirit root, granting you my Emperor Solar Blaze physique. The pregnancy nearly cost Cali her life, and I had to use spirit formations to sustain her, sacrificing much of my limited life essence. Then you—my most precious gift—were born. But your tiny body could not withstand the godlike spirit root, so I sealed it. I knew this would make you appear powerless, despised as trash in a cultivation clan, but it was only temporary. To aid you, I forged a spirit item into a bracelet, meant to help you unseal and channel your immense energy without destroying yourself. Creating this brought me closer to death's door."
Calen was left speechless, overwhelmed by all he heard—so much truth, so much to absorb.
Rai's spirit sense grew solemn. "And now, the truth of my death. Hunter, Elder Howard, and Elder Helton plotted against me. During an expedition meant to protect young disciples, they discovered a pocket realm rich with qi. A powerful beast attacked, forcing me to draw upon cultivation beyond what my vessel could safely contain. At the brink of death, instead of saving me, Hunter and the elders struck, finishing me before natural death could claim me."
Calen's chest tightened. The clan had claimed his father was killed by a spirit beast, but now he knew the truth: Hunter and the elders were responsible.
"Now that you know, seek out the child who carries my other spirit core. Help him break the seal and awaken his true spirit core. Together, your powers will grow. I do not wish for you to avenge me, but my brothers will not tolerate threats to their reign. If they discover that you two are alive, they will hunt you down to secure their reign."
Rai's gaze hardened, his voice carrying finality.
"My time is up. Take this vessel—the Eternal Grade spirit tool—and find a way to revive it."
Calen's eyes burned with tears. "Alright… Father."
"Don't cry, my son. You are the son of a mighty king. Be strong. Goodbye, my son. And always remember—your father loves you more than anything in this world."
The golden figure dissolved into radiance, leaving Calen alone in the crypt—his heart heavy, yet blazing with resolve.
"I love you too, Dad," Calen whispered, tears streaming down his face.