First Cry at Dawn, Destiny's Journey Begins

(This book is a slow-burn, long-form novel focused on character growth. Early chapters may contain confusing elements, but these will be explained and logically resolved in subsequent chapters.)

(If you have any questions or feedback, please leave a comment. The author will review them promptly. Please do not drop the book, thank you.)

The dome of the Pope's bedchamber was painted with a mural of a Six-Winged Angel, and the morning sun cast colorful halos through the stained-glass windows onto the birthing bed.

Bibi Dong's pale fingertips gripped the gold-embroidered bed curtains, her black hair, soaked with sweat, clinging to her neck.

Two wet nurses knelt on either side of the cradle, the swaddling clothes in their arms wrapped in silk embroidered with the Angel emblem.

"Twins..." Qian Xunji stroked the baby girl's pale golden cheek on the left. "There hasn't been a set of twins in the Angel bloodline for a thousand years."

As if responding to his touch, the baby girl suddenly let out a clear, bright cry.

At that moment, a distant bell tolled from the direction of the Worship Hall, and the Holy Bell hanging from the eaves began to ring, startling the White Feather Sparrows resting outside the window.

Qian Daoliu's golden robes swept across the threshold as he arrived before the twins, accompanied by the six great Consecrators.

"Let me see the children."

The moment Qian Daoliu took the baby girl, the Angel God Statue in the Douluo Hall suddenly erupted with golden light.

Countless light feathers drifted down from the sky, piercing the dome and weaving into a brilliant cocoon of light around the infant. Qian Xunji knelt on one knee, trembling with excitement. "Father, this is a miracle!"

Bibi Dong suddenly began to cough violently, scarlet bloodstains blooming on her silk handkerchief.

She looked toward the baby boy in the wet nurse's arms on the right; the child was so quiet he seemed nonexistent, his breathing as faint as morning mist.

"Have you named them?" Qian Daoliu's voice seemed to descend from the clouds.

"Please, Father, bestow the names."

Qian Daoliu gathered golden light at his fingertips and traced an Angel Mark onto the baby girl's forehead. "Born bathed in holy light, she shall bear the name of a thousand peaks. From this day forward, she is Qian Renxue."

A sound of shattering porcelain suddenly echoed through the bedchamber.

Everyone turned to look and saw Guang Ling standing beside an overturned tea table, his moon-white robes stained with spilled tea.

He held the baby boy he had taken at some point, his ice-blue pupils slightly constricted—when that cry had sounded earlier, he had clearly seen frost forming on the child's eyelashes.

"The Fifth seems fond of children," Azure Luan chuckled. "Why not let Guang Ling name the little one?"

Golden Crocodile, who was recording Qian Renxue's birth date, paused his brush. "Twins must share the holy Angel name. According to the genealogy, he should be called Qian Ren..."

"Let's call him Qian Lingche," Guang Ling interrupted. The infant in his arms grabbed his silver hair, his eyes reflecting the light feathers drifting down from the dome.

"I will raise him."

Qian Daoliu's gaze finally landed on the baby boy for the first time.

The child was currently stuffing Guang Ling's hair into his mouth. Compared to Qian Renxue, who was surrounded by golden light, he looked as ordinary as dust in the corner of the temple.

He looked up again at the light feathers drifting toward Qian Renxue and understood.

"As you wish."

As Qian Daoliu and the others crowded around Qian Renxue to head to the Holy Spring for her baptism, Guang Ling looked down at the baby, who had begun to yawn.

The wet nurses had long since left with the crowd, and the milk warming on the table had gone cold.

He teased the child with ice flowers formed at his fingertips, only to notice the infant's stomach beginning to rumble.

"Looks like I need to find you something to eat." The Fifth Consecrator wrapped the swaddling clothes tight with his cloak, but as he stepped out of the bedchamber, he bumped straight into the midwife who was returning.

"Fifth Consecrator!" The midwife hurriedly knelt and kowtowed. "This subordinate was just about to take the young master to the wet nurse..."

"Everyone over there is preparing for the Holy Spring ceremony, aren't they?" Guang Ling caught sight of a maid in yellow robes hurrying past the end of the corridor with a golden basin. "Take me to the kitchen."

The midwife led the way, trembling, as she watched the powerhouse ranked fifth in the Worship Hall walk toward the kitchen.

When Guang Ling personally warmed the goat milk and poured it into a milk bottle, the cook who had just returned was so startled she dropped the jar of Frost Sugar.

One had to understand that this was the Fifth Consecrator, a figure of supreme status in the Spirit Hall whom one rarely even saw, yet he was actually doing such a menial task.

"My Lord, please let this subordinate serve you..."

"Step back." Guang Ling tested the temperature; it was still a bit hot, so he released a sliver of Soul Power, and frost formed on the outside of the bottle.

Qian Lingche suddenly opened his eyes wide, waving his tiny hands to catch the shimmering crystals.

He had only taken a few sips when twelve cannon blasts rang out from outside the window.

Guang Ling lifted the gauze curtain and saw the Cardinals carrying holy artifacts toward the Douluo Hall, Qian Renxue's swaddling clothes rising slowly within a pillar of light.

The infant in his arms suddenly let out a milk-filled burp, and the white mist he exhaled condensed into a snowflake the size of a fingernail.

"You want to watch the ceremony too?" Guang Ling leaped onto the roof of the kitchen, ice forming a staircase across the tiles.

Qian Lingche's pupils reflected the golden clouds filling the sky, yet he reached out and grabbed a falling piece of velvet—an ornament that had dropped from Qian Renxue's cradle.

When the last trace of holy light dissipated, Guang Ling noticed the child shivering in the night wind.

He took out a robe embroidered with ice patterns to wrap the swaddling clothes, suddenly hearing a kitten-like whimper from his arms.

"Caught a chill?" The Fifth Consecrator exhaled a mist of ice to form a protective barrier.

Because it was his first time raising a child, Guang Ling completely forgot that the barrier he created with his ice-attribute Soul Power would only make the surroundings colder.

But strangely, after the temperature dropped, Qian Lingche immediately stopped crying, and frost flowers even bloomed wherever his fingertips brushed.

On the way back to the Worship Hall, Guang Ling encountered a Cardinal bowing in the corridor.

The Cardinal's voice carried just the right amount of reverence: "Fifth Consecrator, does your subordinate need to notify the Pope Palace to arrange for wet nurses?"

"Go find a Snow Silkworm Quilt from the Far North and deliver it to my bedchamber, then find two wet nurses."

"As you command." The Cardinal lowered his posture even further: "It is just that the Great Consecrator has just issued an order that the first-year birthday banquet is only to be prepared for the Saintess..."

Ice crystals shimmered with a deep blue hue under the moonlight as Guang Ling pulled the sleeping infant closer to his chest: "Prepare three qian of Polar Blue Lotus and send them over as well."

Two days later, when Guang Ling kicked open the doors to the Medicine Hall, the pharmacist on duty scrambled off his cot and knelt down in a panic.

"Your Excellency! This subordinate will prepare the calming soup immediately..."

"Take a Snow Soul Pill and dissolve it in warm water." Frost gathered on the Fifth Consecrator's brow: "Add two drops of Cold Marrow Fluid."

The physician broke into a cold sweat: "But the Young Master has yet to awaken his martial soul; I fear the medicinal potency..."

"Do you need this seat to teach you how to dispense medicine?"

When the seventeenth strand of Soul Power combed through the infant's blocked meridians, the flushed redness finally faded from the small face in his arms.

Guang Ling gazed at the heavy snow outside the window, remembering Qian Renxue surrounded by the crowd when he passed the Worship Hall that morning, and could not help but feel a pang of heartache for Qian Lingche in his arms.

At that moment, a soft, milky little hand grasped his fingertip.

He looked down at the infant in his arms without a word, but the curve of his lips reflected his current mood.