The memory was Qing KunJue's bedrock, his crucible, forever etched in the cold fire of awe and ambition. He stood, a boy of twelve, dwarfed by the cavernous expanse of the Azure Dragon Clan's primary training hall. The air hung thick and still, heavy with the sharp, electric scent of ozone mingled with the deep, mineral smell of ancient, polished granite. Dust motes danced in shafts of pale light. Silence reigned, profound and expectant. Then, his father, Qing YunLang, stepped onto the central dais. An imposing figure even in repose: tall, broad-shouldered, with a physique honed by decades of relentless discipline. His hair, thick and ink-black, was swept back severely from a high, intelligent forehead, accentuating sharp, aristocratic features – a strong jawline clean-shaven, a straight nose, and intense eyes the colour of storm-tossed sea jade. He wore simple grey training robes, yet radiated a latent power that made the air vibrate faintly against KunJue's skin.
With no fanfare, merely a focused inhalation that drew the light towards him, Qing YunLang activated his Mutation Pose. A sound like tearing celestial silk intertwined with the deep, resonant growl of distant thunder filled the vast space. Azure scales, shimmering with iridescent cyan and deep sapphire light, rippled across his exposed skin. Twin horns, spiraling like obsidian daggers tipped with faint cyan, erupted from his brow. His eyes became molten gold slits, radiating ancient, predatory intelligence. This was the Embodiment Stage mastery of the Azure Dragon gen. The pressure intensified, a physical weight pressing down on the young KunJue. Then came the Mutation Manifestation. It unfolded from him like a living storm: a colossal, serpentine dragon woven from crackling cyan lightning and swirling jade-green mist, coiling sinuously around his transformed figure. Its scales pulsed with inner light, claws were jagged shards of pure lightning, eyes blazing miniature suns. A silent roar vibrated through KunJue's bones. Qing YunLang raised a scaled hand. He didn't gesture; he commanded. His voice, deeper, layered with primordial power, resonated through the hall:
"Mutation Technique: Azure Dragon's Frozen Judgement!"
The lightning composing part of the manifestation dragon froze solid. A jagged bolt transformed instantly into a sculpture of glacial ice, perfectly sculpted into the furious, coiling form of a dragon. It radiated bone-deep cold that misted KunJue's breath. With a contemptuous flick of his scaled wrist, Qing YunLang sent it lancing upwards. It struck the vaulted obsidian ceiling with a sound like a mountain of glass shattering, vanishing into vapour that carried scents of deep cold and sharp ozone. "This," his father's voice echoed in the sudden, ringing silence, "is the pinnacle. The legacy in your blood. Never forget the storm within, KunJue."
That day, carved in frost and lightning, forged Qing KunJue's purpose. For years, he poured his being into his secondary gen – Ice, reaching the arduous Chainbound Phase at seventeen. His physique reflected dedication: leanly muscular at eighteen, raven-black hair falling in unruly waves over a forehead creased with focus, eyes a deep, piercing sapphire blue like chips of arctic ice. Yet, it felt hollow. It wasn't the Dragon. Then, it happened. Vertigo slammed into him, followed by furnace heat chilling his core. The air crackled. Tiny arcs of cyan lightning spat from his clenched fists, scorching black marks onto his polymer desk. A deep, resonant hum vibrated his skeleton. His vision whited out, replaced by sensations of vast skies, impossible speed, and an ancient, echoing roar. When sight returned, a single, perfect azure scale, the colour of a stormy sea under twilight, shimmered on the back of his hand before fading like a phantom.
Awakening. The Azure Dragon gen.
A fierce, primal grin split his usually serious face. His fingers flew over his encrypted phone.
Text to Bai Li & Tao Ren: It's happened. Dragon. Awake. Sector Gamma. Now.
He didn't wait. He sprinted through university corridors, the electric thrum in his blood drowning all other sensation. The subterranean Gen-Training Sector Gamma welcomed him with the synthetic tang of ionized air and the hum of containment fields. For three relentless hours, amidst hissing vents and the crackle of other trainees, he wrestled the newborn storm. He felt the chaotic power stabilize, humming with controlled potential – the Early Foundation Stage. Control was crude; sparks fizzled erratically, but the dragon's immense potential was undeniable, a coiled leviathan within. Emerging into the late afternoon smog, he instinctively looked up. The Mutation Tower pulsed against the hazy sky. Scrolling down its luminous face, amidst thousands of names, a new entry burned with fresh intensity: Qing KunJue - Azure Dragon (Primary Awakening). Pride, cold and fierce as his own ice, surged through him, momentarily banishing fatigue. His true journey was marked.
He met Bai Li and Tao Ren at "The Crimson Wok." Bai Li, sharp-featured with amber eyes that missed nothing, smelling faintly of jasmine and damp forest loam, punched his shoulder. "Took you long enough, Dragon Boy! Tower looks good." Tao Ren, solid as bedrock, smelling of sun-warmed stone and iron, nodded, a rare smile touching his lips. "Well done, KunJue." They celebrated with steaming noodles, the rich broth aroma mingling with the city's exhaust. Their camaraderie warmed him, but beneath it, the newborn dragon energy simmered restlessly, demanding solitude, demanding refinement. Twilight painted the city in deep violets as KunJue approached his apartment block. The familiar scents of cheap disinfectant and dust greeted him in the hallway. He slid his keycard – a sterile electronic chirp – and pushed open his door. The scent was jarringly wrong: a dry, metallic tang like sun-baked river rocks and scorched feathers.
Jun MuoLan leaned insolently against the far wall, silhouetted against the city's electric glow. Lean, wiry, with a hawkish profile, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the unsettling colour of tarnished gold, gleaming with malice. His dark hair was aggressively spiked. Sleek black training fatigues clung to him. The air shimmered faintly with heat haze; insubstantial golden pinions flickered fitfully at his shoulders – his Golden Roc gen barely at Groundtouch Phase. He smelled of aggression and a sharp, dry ozone. "Tower's shining bright for you, Qing," Jun MuoLan rasped, pushing off the wall with avian fluidity. "Must be nice, riding the coattails of the mighty Azure Dragon Clan. Tell me," his sneer deepened, "did dear daddy pull some strings? Whisper to ensure his precious heir got the spotlight?"
Rage, cold and razor-sharp, surged through KunJue. The air temperature perceptibly dropped. "Get out, Jun," he stated, his voice dangerously low, sapphire eyes hardening. "Now. Last warning." "Make me," the Roc-user hissed, the words dripping venom. He exploded into motion. No warning. Pure predatory intent. Jun MuoLan lunged, hands blazing. He roared, his voice sharp and piercing:
"Mutation Technique: Roc's Scorching Dive!" A searing blast of concentrated golden light, smelling fiercely of superheated metal and singed air, erupted towards KunJue's chest. KunJue's Chainbound-honed reflexes took over. He dropped into a low, twisting crouch. The golden energy crackled overhead with a vicious hiss, scorching the doorframe black, filling the air with the stench of burning paint and plastic. Qing KunJue roared back, the sound carrying a guttural echo of thunder. He thrust his hands forward. Frost exploded from his palms, coalescing not as mist, but as jagged, crystalline spears. He bellowed, channeling his Chainbound mastery:
"Mutation Technique: Glacial Lance Barrage!"
The ice spears whistled through the air towards Jun. The Roc-user dodged with uncanny, jerky speed, leaving faint trails of shimmering heat distortion. He retaliated instantly, golden force flickering from his pinions:
"Mutation Technique: Gale Fist Barrage!" Concussive bursts of solid golden force slammed into the ice lances. Sharp cracks echoed as they shattered into glittering shrapnel. One blast, slightly misdirected, caught KunJue a glancing blow on the ribs. A hammer impact forced the air from his lungs in a pained gasp, the coppery tang of blood flooding his mouth. KunJue snarled, tasting blood. He tapped the chaotic, newborn power of the Azure Dragon. Cyan lightning spat wildly from his fingertips. He shouted, focusing the raw energy:
"Mutation Technique: Azure Spark Discharge!"
Raw lightning arced violently across the room. A bolt struck a standing lamp – it exploded in a shower of white-hot sparks and molten plastic. Another seared a black, smoking scar across the plaster wall. Jun MuoLan shrieked – a sound like an enraged eagle – as a glancing bolt grazed his bicep, the smell of burnt fabric and seared flesh adding a sickening layer to the chaos.
They closed the distance. Fists met flesh with brutal, meaty thuds. KunJue, augmented by the Dragon's burgeoning power surging through his muscles, hit with bone-jarring force. Jun MuoLan, fueled by Roc speed and fury, struck like a viper, his golden-enhanced fists shimmering with heat. A vicious punch smashed into KunJue's jaw – stars exploded behind his eyes, blood thick on his tongue. KunJue retaliated instinctively, driving an elbow sheathed in crackling frost hard into Jun's solar plexus. He felt ribs buckle beneath the impact, heard a choked gasp, chilling mist momentarily clinging to them both. Furniture became wreckage – a synth-wood chair splintered under a wild lightning bolt, a low table crumpled as Jun was thrown against it. The apartment was a cacophony of destruction: snapping lightning, sizzling energy, crunching ice, thudding impacts, grunts of pain, Jun's avian shrieks, and a nauseating clash of scents.
Jun MuoLan staggered back, panting heavily, blood trickling from his split lip and brow, his golden pinions flickering erratically, dimming. "Spoiled... clan brat...!" he spat, blood flecking his chin. "Think... your name... makes you worthy?" He raised trembling hands, veins bulging on his neck, gathering every shred of his energy into a blinding, furnace-hot orb that pulsed with lethal intent. He screamed:
"Mutation Technique: Golden Annihilation Sphere!"
KunJue saw the killing blow. Survival instinct and the Dragon's feral wrath merged. He didn't just summon Ice and Lightning. He fused them in a surge of desperate understanding. With a roar embodying thunder and the deepest glacier, he thrust both hands forward:
"Mutation Technique: Frost-Lightning Execution!" A nightmare projectile erupted: a jagged lance of cyan lightning violently encased in a spiraling sheath of razor-sharp glacial ice. It tore through the ruined apartment with a sound like shattering reality mixed with a glacier's groan, leaving a trail of supercooled air. It struck Jun MuoLan dead centre in the chest just as the golden orb reached its zenith.
A blinding flash bleached the room white. A cataclysmic BOOM-CRUNCH shook the walls. Scents of clean ozone were instantly overwhelmed by the charnel-house stench of instantly cooked meat and the strange, sterile scent of vaporized ice. Jun MuoLan was lifted clean off his feet, the golden light snuffed out. He flew backwards, crashing into the far wall with a sickening, wet thud before sliding down to crumple amidst the debris. A smoldering, frozen ruin marked his chest, ice crystals already forming at the edges. Vacant, tarnished gold eyes stared unseeing at the smoke-stained ceiling. The aggressive heat vanished, replaced by the overwhelming, cloying miasma of death. Silence descended, thick and suffocating. Broken only by KunJue's ragged, gasping breaths and the steady drip-drip-drip of water from a severed pipe hitting a puddle on the scarred floor. He stood amidst utter devastation: walls webbed with black scorch marks, every surface glittering with malevolent ice crystals, furniture reduced to unrecognizable debris. The air hung heavy with blood, burnt materials, and death.
He looked down at his hands: one shimmering with fading frost crystals, cold to the touch; the other tingling with dying cyan sparks. His icy blue gaze, devoid of any flicker of remorse or horror, fell upon the broken form of Jun MuoLan. The sight was a grotesque testament. No remorse. Only a cold, diamond-hard certainty crystallized within his core. This was the path laid bare by his father's example. Brutal. Unforgiving. A path where obstacles were not merely overcome; they were annihilated. Sentiment was a luxury he couldn't afford. He stepped deliberately over a shattered table leg, his boot crunching on glass. He turned slowly towards the window. Outside, against the deepening night, the Mutation Tower pulsed serenely, its luminous face a tapestry of names and achievements. His own entry – Qing KunJue - Azure Dragon (Primary Awakening) – glowed with steady, undeniable light. A new fire ignited in his sapphire eyes, colder than the void, fiercer than lightning, reflecting the Tower's distant glow. It was the fire of absolute, ruthless purpose.
"I started my journey," Qing KunJue stated, his voice rough from exertion and blood, yet resonant with iron conviction. The words echoed slightly in the dripping silence. He spoke to the Tower, to the legacy burning in his veins, to the tempest within demanding ascension. "And it's still far from over." His gaze swept dispassionately over the destruction, the price of his first true step. The ice in his eyes didn't waver. "I'm not going to let filth like you stop it."
The first, irrevocable step was taken. Baptized not in ceremony, but in blood, jagged ice, and crackling lightning. The legend of Qing KunJue, Scion of the Azure Dragon, had begun its perilous ascent. The path stretched long and treacherous ahead, shrouded in the storm clouds of Tribulation. But one truth remained: he possessed the Dragon's spark. And now, undeniably, he wielded its ruthless will. The climb had begun.