Myriad Realms Strongest Family

The Divine Sword Clan was once a symbol of power on the Douluo Continent. Now, it was a shadow of its former self. The mountain where the clan resided was quiet, almost lifeless. Overgrown weeds covered the training grounds. Cracks spread across the walls like scars. The once-bustling courtyards now echoed only with the wind.

The Heavenly Divine Sword was the pride of the clan. It was a martial spirit so powerful that legends claimed it could sever the heavens. In their prime, the clan had countless Titled Douluo, even more than the mighty Spirit Hall. But their rise to power attracted envy. Rumors said the gods themselves feared them and caused their downfall.

Generations had passed, and the Heavenly Divine Sword hadn't been seen again. The clan's decline seemed unstoppable. Yet, some refused to give up.

In the dim ancestral hall, elders sat around a wooden table. The faint light of an oil lamp flickered, casting shadows on their tired faces.

"We can't keep going like this," The Grand Elder said, his voice heavy. "Our resources are almost gone. Another year like this, and we'll be forgotten."

"Forgotten?" The first elder sneered. "We're already forgotten. No one remembers the Divine Sword Clan anymore. We're just a relic of the past."

Zhao Tianwei, the third elder, sat quietly until now. His sharp gaze moved across the room. "That's enough," he said firmly.

The first elder frowned. "What do you suggest, Tianwei? Miracles? None of the young ones have awakened anything close to the Heavenly Divine Sword. We're clinging to a dream."

Tianwei's lips tightened. "My son, Yunfeng, will awaken his martial spirit tomorrow," he said. "I believe he's different."

The room fell silent. The other elders exchanged doubtful looks.

"Different?" The Grand Elder asked. "What makes you so sure? Every generation says the same thing, but the result never changes."

"I've seen it in him," Tianwei replied. "There's something in his aura. The bloodline of the Heavenly Divine Sword hasn't disappeared. It's still there, waiting."

The Grand Elder shook his head. "You're letting hope blind you, Tianwei. If Yunfeng fails, then what? You'll shatter the boy."

"And if he succeeds?" Tianwei shot back. "If he awakens the Heavenly Divine Sword, it'll change everything. We'll rise again."

The Grand Elder sighed. "You're betting everything on one boy. It's a dangerous gamble."

"It's not a gamble," Tianwei said, his voice steady. "It's faith. If we give up now, we might as well abandon the clan altogether."

The elders were silent. No one had an answer.

Finally, the First Elder leaned back. "We'll see what happens tomorrow. But don't expect us to share your optimism."

Tianwei stood up. "I don't need your optimism. Just wait and see."

The elders fell silent, and Tianwei rose from his seat, leaving the room with a determined stride.

In the quiet courtyard, Zhao Yunfeng sat cross-legged, staring at the starry night sky. At six years old, he looked like any other thoughtful child, but his appearances were deceiving.

Yunfeng's soul didn't belong to this world. In his previous life, he had been an ordinary student on Earth, a young man struggling under the crushing weight of academics and expectations. Sleepless nights spent cramming for exams and endless stress had worn him down until his body gave up. He had died in his dorm room, slumped over his desk.

But death hadn't been the end. When Yunfeng opened his eyes again, he found himself in a strange world filled with martial spirits, cultivation, and powers that seemed pulled from fantasy novels. It had taken time to adjust, but Yunfeng wasn't one to waste a second chance. His maturity and perspective, shaped by his past life's hardships, made him stand out even as a young child.

Sitting there, under the vast sky, Yunfeng couldn't help but wonder about tomorrow. His martial spirit awakening would determine everything—his strength, his future, and maybe even the fate of the crumbling Divine Sword Clan.

"Yunfeng."

A soft voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to see a servant bowing respectfully nearby.

"Your father wishes to speak with you," the servant said.

Yunfeng nodded, standing up smoothly. He brushed the dust from his robes and followed the servant toward the central courtyard.

As he walked, the clan's decline was impossible to ignore. Once-glorious statues of their ancestors were now chipped and weathered. The banners that once bore their crest—two crossed swords beneath a blazing sun—were faded and torn. The stone tiles beneath his feet were cracked, some even missing entirely.

Yunfeng's gaze lingered on the decay, but instead of sadness, he felt determination welling up inside him. This was his home now. This was the clan he belonged to. If no one else could revive it, then he would.

In the moonlit courtyard, Zhao Tianwei stood waiting. The soft silver glow of the moonlight outlined his tall figure. He looked imposing, as always, with his arms crossed and his stern expression betraying none of the emotions he must have felt.

"Yunfeng," Tianwei said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "Tomorrow is an important day. It's not just about you—it's about our entire clan. Your awakening is a chance for us to reclaim what we've lost."

Yunfeng met his father's gaze, his young face calm but serious. "I understand, Father. I'll do my best."

Tianwei's sharp eyes softened slightly, and he took a step closer to his son. "Do you know why I named you Yunfeng?"

Yunfeng blinked, caught off guard by the question. "No, Father. I've never thought about it."

Tianwei looked up at the sky for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Your name means 'cloud peak.' I chose it because I believed you would rise above any storm, like a mountain peak that pierces through the clouds. No matter how difficult things become, you must never let despair take root in your heart."

Yunfeng hesitated, then asked, "Do you think I can awaken the Heavenly Divine Sword?"

The question hung in the air. Tianwei's expression grew serious again. After a long pause, he said firmly, "If anyone can, it's you. The blood of our ancestors flows in your veins. Remember this, Yunfeng: the heavens only favor those who are strong. If the gods try to suppress us, we'll carve our path forward, no matter the cost."

Yunfeng couldn't help but smile a little. "No pressure, then?"

A rare chuckle escaped Tianwei's lips, lightening the mood. "Just don't cry if you end up awakening a hoe or a cooking pot. Though if it's the latter, your mother might faint on the spot."

Yunfeng laughed, the tension in his chest easing. "If it's a hoe, I'll make sure to become the best farmer the Douluo Continent has ever seen."

"That's the spirit," Tianwei said, resting a strong hand on Yunfeng's shoulder. His grip was firm, reassuring. "Rest well tonight, my son. Tomorrow, we face the heavens together."

With those words, Tianwei turned and walked away, his tall figure disappearing into the shadows of the courtyard. Yunfeng watched him go, a small smile still lingering on his lips.