The School of the Forgotten, located in the lower district of Crimson sky city and far from. Huayin village.
At age 7, Su Mengtian officially enrolled in District 29's Public Awakening Prep School—one of the lowest-ranked educational institutions in Crimson Sky City.
It was a crumbling building, tucked between scrap towers and the leftover husks of old exo-suits. The windows were cracked. The classrooms smelled of rust and mold. Most of the desks were secondhand, and the energy stabilizer often flickered, casting a sickly green hue over the dirty floors.
For children born into the lower classes—unawakened, powerless, forgotten—this was their only shot at survival.
Here, they were taught basic theory: beast classification, bloodline inheritance probability, dimensional rift safety, the political structure of the Bloodline Council.
But what they weren't taught… was hope.
Only 1 in 50 students from prep schools like this would awaken a Tier-5 bloodline or higher.
The rest?
Expendables.
Su Mengtian didn't expect kindness.
But even he was surprised at the level of cruelty within his first week.
At the top of the school hierarchy stood Zhao Wei, the son of a mid-level noble family who had bribed his way into enrollment "for field experience among the lower class."
He was 8 years old but already treated others like insects.
Tall for his age, hair slicked back, and always flanked by two lesser thugs, Zhao Wei wore a custom uniform—stitched with a black serpent crest: the Black-Spine Viper Bloodline, Lower Spirit-Grade.
Not strong enough to enter elite academies. But more than enough to dominate the slums.
He walked like a king and acted like a wolf.
On Su Mengtian's second day, Zhao Wei had his men corner a smaller student behind the supply wing and beat him with neural rods.
The boy's only crime?
He had the same pencil case as Zhao Wei.
Su Mengtian watched from the rooftop, eyes cold.
"Some things never change," he thought. "Even in this world, the strong crush the weak to feel alive."
He clenched his fists… and walked away.
For now.
Their homeroom teacher, Instructor Lin, was a thin, wiry woman in her mid-thirties, with scars across her hands and a gaze like sharpened glass.
She was a retired beast-hunter with a Middle Spirit-Grade,Wind Raptor bloodline, and she taught like it was war.
"Listen up, brats," she snapped on the third day of class. "The Awakening Temple doesn't care about your dreams. If you don't hit basic qi efficiency levels by 12, you won't even qualify for low-grade ceremony access."
She pointed to a chart.
"Breathing exercises. Meridian cleansing. Focus channeling. You will do these every day until your bones creak or you vomit. If you can't handle it… drop out."
No one dared speak.
Su Mengtian sat at the back, silent, calculating.
This was where the real training would begin.
Breathing techniques were the foundation of bloodline awakening. They refined energy intake and cleared meridian blockages.
Most children took months to grasp the first tier: Spiral Flow Breathing.
Su Mengtian mastered it in five days.
He kept it secret, faking slower progress, but within he was already experimenting with double-cycle compression, a high-level soldier technique used in beast fog operations.
At night, he did controlled energy mapping—pushing dimensional energy through his limbs, recording pulse durations, identifying pressure points.
He discovered that his meridians weren't like others.
They were dense. Deeper. Ancient.
The more energy he absorbed, the more something stirred within him.
A coil of power, sleeping… waiting.
Trouble finally came in Week 3.
Zhao Wei had been watching Su Mengtian.
He didn't like the new boy's quiet confidence.
Didn't like how Instructor Lin sometimes glanced at him thoughtfully.
Didn't like how, despite being from a "trash family," Su Mengtian was never afraid of him.
So he picked his moment.
Lunch break.
Playground dirt lot.
Twenty children in a circle. Most cheering. A few silent.
"Hey, rat," Zhao Wei said, stepping forward, neural rod spinning in hand. "Heard you've been acting smart in class."
Su Mengtian didn't flinch.
He just looked up, eyes flat.
"And I heard your brain leaks every time you try to pronounce three-syllable words."
The crowd gasped.
Zhao Wei's grin died.
"You think you're better than me?"
"No," Su Mengtian said. "I know I am."
The rod swung.
The blow came fast—Zhao Wei had some training. The neural rod was set to stun.
Su Mengtian leaned back just enough, letting the strike graze his sleeve.
He stepped in.
Pivoted on the heel.
And slammed his palm into Zhao Wei's chest—right between the ribs, where the qi lines intersected.
The noble child gasped.
Dropped.
His eyes bulged in disbelief.
Su Mengtian stepped back calmly.
But then—it happened.
His pulse surged.
A roar echoed in his head.
thump-thump
His heart pounded once.
The world blurred.
Dimensional energy spiraled into him—through his pores, his eyes, his soul.
Children screamed and backed away.
A faint silhouette shimmered behind him.
Giant. Winged. Horned.
Instructor Lin burst from the building.
"EVERYONE BACK!"
But the illusion vanished.
Su Mengtian fell to one knee, panting.
Blood dripping from his nose.
Whatever had just happened…
It wasn't a full awakening.
But it was the start.
Zhao Wei didn't come to school for three weeks.
His family tried to file a complaint.
But Instructor Lin stepped in.
"I saw the footage," she said coldly. "He initiated. He lost. Take it to the Council if you want to be humiliated further."
They didn't.
But whispers began to spread.
That Su Mengtian had beast shadow illusions.
That his bloodline wasn't registered in the census.
That his meridians could absorb energy on their own.
He ignored the rumors.
Focused on training.
Every night, he revisited the moment—replaying the rush of energy, the glimpse of wings, the roar in his soul.
That wasn't a serpent. Or a lion. Or even a dragon.
It was something else.
He began to research ancient beast myths. Forbidden archives. Unrecorded anomalies from early rift ages.
And one term kept appearing, Primordial-Class Bloodline.
Unverified. Theoretical.
Said to be older than the rift tears themselves.
Linked to world-forging entities.
Linked to extinction events.
Linked… to gods.
One week later, Su Mengtian was called to the rooftop after school.
Instructor Lin waited there, arms crossed.
"I know what you're hiding."
He said nothing.
She walked forward, gaze unreadable.
"You're not just some smart brat. I've been in the field. Seen monsters, seen genius. You're not natural. And your energy resonance… it's wrong."
Still, he didn't speak.
She sighedl
"Look. I'm not the government. I don't care what you are. But I'll make you a deal."
She reached into her jacket and tossed him a crystal ring.
A private spatial device.
Inside were scrolls, weights, beast-tech fragments, breathing manuals—elite resources.
"Use it. Train. I'll cover for you here. But when the time comes… you tell me what you are."
He met her gaze.
And nodded once.
From that day, his training intensified.
He used the rooftop at night. Practiced controlled energy surges. Mapped qi reactions to beast core fragments hidden inside broken weapons.
He built resistance circuits in his body, pushing himself to near-collapse and refining internal energy flow to military-grade precision.
And then, one evening, as the blood moon hung low over Crimson Sky's skyline...
He sat in meditation.
Reached within.
And heard the whisper again.
"My heir…"
The blood in his veins caught fire.
A mark began to form faintly on his back—interlocking rings and a crown of fangs.
His vision filled with gold.
A roar shattered the air within his soul.
Something had began.