Maple Empire – Sky Province, one of its thirty-six provinces.
Bright Moon County, Bai Manor.
"Young Master Zihua has returned!"
The shout echoed throughout the entire estate. Inside and outside the gates of Bai Manor, a crowd had already gathered—mostly maids and servants of the household, along with a few core members from the Bai family. All of them stared at the young man in black, who walked through the gates flanked by guards.
"Is that really Zihua? I can't believe he has the nerve to come back."
"The Bai family's decline over the past few years—he's the one to blame for all of it!"
"He's the sinner of the Bai family..."
Hatred and resentment colored the eyes of the servants, maids, and even the core family members as they looked at the black-clad boy.
The Bai family had once stood at the top of the Maple Empire's noble clans. They had a old patriarch at the Nirvana Realm guarding their lineage, a legion of followers at their command, and countless powerful cultivators at their beck and call. But a few years ago, disaster struck—the family's old patriarch suffered a grievous injury and was left on the brink of death.
Before passing, the old patriarch had made thorough arrangements for the family's future. He had secured a marriage alliance with the imperial family of the Maple Empire. As long as Zihua Bai—then the young master of the Bai family and the most gifted genius of his generation—could defeat a top talent from the powerful Xie family, he would be allowed to marry the Ninth Princess, Princess Ruoxi, and become the Emperor's son-in-law.
That alliance with the royal family would not only preserve the Bai family's power and influence—it would elevate them to even greater heights.
But on the day of the final duel, Zihua didn't even show up.
He fled without a fight.
If Zihua had at least fought with all he had and still lost, the Bai family would have accepted it, even if reluctantly. But to run away before the battle began... that was unforgivable. That single act cost the family their chance at the imperial marriage—and from that moment, their decline was sealed.
Naturally, all the blame fell on him.
Even the Emperor of Maple was enraged. As punishment, he ordered Zihua to be imprisoned in the Anti-Demon Dungeon for three full years.
Now, that sentence had finally ended. Zihua had been released and returned home.
"Zihua!"
From the crowd, one of the Bai family's core members suddenly stepped forward and blocked his path, shouting, "You traitor! You coward! You've got the gall to come back here?!"
"Shang?" The black-clad youth, Zihua, froze for a moment.
The boy standing in front of him was Shang Bai—his cousin—two years younger than him. Once upon a time, Shang had idolized him, even followed him around like a shadow. But now...
"Young Master Shang," one of the guards escorting Zihua stepped forward coldly. "Clan Leader has given strict orders—no one is to obstruct Young Master Zihua's return."
Shang clenched his jaw, gave Zihua one last hateful glare, then turned and walked away with a cold snort.
With the guard leading the way, Zihua was brought to a quiet and secluded courtyard deep within the estate.
"Young Master Zihua," the guard said, "this is your newly assigned residence. Clan Leader also instructed that—unless necessary—you should avoid leaving this courtyard."
"My father... doesn't want to see me?" Zihua asked.
The guard silently shook his head, then turned and left.
Zihua remained where he stood, his hands clenched into fists so tight his fingernails pierced into his flesh.
"Even my father... can't forgive me?" he thought bitterly.
Still, he could understand. Fleeing without a fight was a disgrace in itself.
Let alone the fact that it had dragged the entire Bai family into ruin.
But what no one knew was that Zihua hadn't fled out of cowardice or fear of facing his opponent. He'd had no choice.
He'd been forced to run.
"I couldn't help it!"
"How could I have known... of all times, my bloodline would awaken the day before the duel?"
Zihua's eyes flashed like lightning as his fists clenched involuntarily.
In the world of martial arts, strength was everything.
But beyond the ordinary martial artists, there existed a rare kind of individual—those who possessed a unique kind of power. These people were known as Awakened.
They wielded the power of their bloodlines.
Every Awakened was born with extraordinary potential, but before their bloodlines awakened, they were indistinguishable from ordinary people. And the awakening process came without warning. Zihua had no preparation at all—his bloodline had awakened suddenly, on the very eve of his duel with the genius from the Xie family.
The awakening had brought with it unimaginable pain—so intense and overwhelming that he'd been forced to flee into the wilderness, burying himself beneath the sand and soil, where he writhed and suffered in agony for three full days and nights before it finally ended.
By the time the Bai family found him, the duel was already over.
He'd missed everything.
And afterward... he couldn't even explain himself. Because the bloodline that had awakened within him was anything but ordinary.
Bloodlines, too, were ranked by quality.
Third- and Second-rank bloodlines were rare talents—one might appear among tens of millions.
First-rank bloodlines were legendary—those who possessed them were called Kylin Bloodline, and even in a vast empire, perhaps only a handful existed per generation.
Divine-grade bloodlines were once-in-a-millennium miracles.
Across the Xuanwu Continent, only once every few centuries—or nearly a thousand years—would someone awaken a Divine Bloodline. And when that happened, every major faction would descend like vultures, eager to claim such a being.
But Zihua had awakened something even greater—
A Supreme-grade bloodline.
A Supreme Bloodline—a power above even the divine grade.
The Supreme Bloodline: Born to rule. Unseen since the dawn of time.
This bloodline existed only in myth. In all of Xuanwu Continent's recorded history, not a single person had ever awakened it.
And now, Zihua had.
That was why he hadn't dared tell a soul. He couldn't even imagine what would happen if word got out—what dangers he, or the entire Bai family, might face once others learned that he had awakened the Supreme Bloodline.
So he chose silence.
He shouldered the burden of his entire clan's hatred and misunderstanding, and entered the Anti-Demon Dungeon without a word.
Even though the Bai family had declined because of him...
Because of what he'd done—
With this bloodline, the Bai family now had limitless potential.
******
It was dusk.
Zihua stood silently in the courtyard, eyes closed, gripping his sword. Beside him stood a woman in red.
Her name was Xuerou. She had grown up with Zihua, originally serving as his maid. Loyal to the core, she returned to his side the moment she heard he'd come back to the Bai family.
"It's been so long since I last saw you practice, Young Master Zihua," she said softly.
Watching him now, a glimmer of excitement and anticipation shone in her eyes.
Zihua had always been the most gifted of his generation in the Bai family, and swordsmanship was his greatest strength. Three years ago, when he was only fifteen, rumors already said his skill with the sword surpassed many seasoned experts in the Bai family who had reached the Sea Transformation Realm.
To Xuerou, simply being able to watch him train was a privilege.
Whoosh!
Suddenly, Zihua moved.
Sword light danced, and it looked like snowflakes scattered through the air.
The speed was blinding.
"Snowfall Sword Technique..." Xuerou's eyes lit up.
Among the many sword techniques stored in the Bai family's arsenal, the Snowfall Sword Technique ranked high. It was known for its speed and unpredictability—especially its ultimate move, the Snow-Cleaving Strike.
This move allowed the wielder to continuously build momentum with each strike. Each sword stroke would be faster than the last. At the peak of mastery, a swordsman could unleash nine consecutive strikes—deadly fast and nearly unstoppable.
"It's coming—the Snow-Cleaving Strike..." Xuerou stared intently.
Zihua's movements were light as mist, his sword like lightning, stabbing rapidly through the air.
In a blink, he had unleashed seven strikes. Then came the eighth... and the ninth...
The flow was smooth—flawless.
"The ninth strike... He's truly mastered it," Xuerou said, just beginning to smile—when her face suddenly changed. "Wait—what?"
After the ninth thrust, Zihua's hand didn't stop.
A tenth strike followed—effortlessly.
Then an eleventh.
A twelfth...
And finally—a thirteenth strike, faster and sharper than all the others. It tore through the air with a piercing sonic boom. Only then did Zihua finally come to a stop.
Xuerou stood there, stunned.
"The Snow-Cleaving Strike... even at its highest level, it's only supposed to go up to nine strikes. But he... he just unleashed thirteen?"
"The thirteenth strike..." Zihua, however, remained calm as ever.
He'd always been a prodigy when it came to swordsmanship. And ever since awakening the Supreme Bloodline, his talent and comprehension had reached an entirely new level. He'd even developed certain unique abilities.
During his three years in the Anti-Demon Dungeon, he hadn't trained physically with the sword—but in his mind, he had constantly been refining and evolving his techniques.
By now, he was no longer limited to the techniques recorded in manuals. He could derive his own.
The Snow-Cleaving Strike in the scroll only mentioned nine strikes. But through his mental training over the past three years, he'd pushed it all the way to thirteen.