DEAF MUSİCİAN

As the teleportation circle's blue glow turned crimson, Alex found himself standing alone in the Central Palace gardens. The sun was beginning to set, casting long golden rays across the serene courtyard.

"I really can't wait to see their faces when they hear the news," Alex muttered with a mischievous grin, striding confidently toward his father's estate—an elegant yet modest manor guarded by nearly half the sect's palace forces.

"Hey, Uncle Tio! I've got some important news for my father. Mind opening the door?"

The man called Tio, captain of the palace guards, turned with a solemn look. His aura, like those of the other guards, was dense and heavy.

"Greetings, young master. But… I fear your father might not want to see you at the moment."

Alex's smile faded. "What do you mean, 'might not want to'? You remember I can read lips, right? If this is a joke, it's a really bad one."

Tio didn't flinch. His voice was calm but firm. "It's not a joke. Your bond with your father is strong, and I don't doubt your intentions. But ever since he heard about what happened at Fa Tower… he hasn't exactly been calm."

For a moment, Alex's brows twitched. But then he softened, lips curling upward once more.

"It's alright, Uncle Tio. After today… everything will change. Trust me. Just let me through—I'll handle the rest."

Tio was silent, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examined the boy. He had watched over Alex since he was a toddler, even when the child cried just because he spilled sauce on his robe.

"You've really grown up, haven't you… Alex?"

Returning to his usual sternness, Tio nodded and turned to the other guards.

"Open the gate. Notify the head steward—the young master has returned."

Eight guards moved into formation around the massive stone gate. It groaned as it began to open—slow as a snail, heavy as the sect's legacy itself.

This was the Aliostar Estate—core stronghold of the Central Palace and heart of the sect.

The mansion was four stories tall, its design modest but firm. In front of the gate stood eight towering statues, each holding a different instrument. They represented the past eight generations of the Aliostar bloodline.

Fred Aliostar—Alex's father—was among them.

Alex looked up at the statues, his blood rushing.

One day… I'll be the ninth. I'll earn my place beside them.

Four Years Ago

"Hey, Alex."

"Yes, Dad?"

"What makes these statues special?"

"Uh… 'Cause they're super duper strong?"

Fred chuckled sadly as he looked at the statue of his own father.

"No, son. What makes them special… is that they carry our blood."

"Huh?"

"We, the Aliostars, gain power to protect our bloodline. We earn wealth so those who carry our name can grow stronger. Power… money… all of it means nothing without family. Remember that."

Alex blinked blankly, picking his nose.

Fred burst into laughter and pulled him onto his shoulder.

"Guess you're still too young for speeches, little guy."

The sun was setting. Their shadows stretched across the courtyard—father and son, walking side by side beneath the legacy of giants.

Back in the present, the gate finally opened.

Alex stepped through the long corridor of the estate, each step echoing with memory and purpose. He soon stood before a plain wooden door—his father's study.

He knocked gently.

"Who is it?"

A tired, irritated voice came from inside.

"It's me, Father."

"Come in."

Alex entered. What greeted him wasn't luxury, but stark simplicity. A low table, a single chair, and shelves filled with ancient texts. Fred Aliostar had always believed in strength, not show.

Alex's crimson eyes scanned the room, and his presence seemed to warp the air itself. His long red hair brushed his shoulders, a reminder of what he always kept hidden.

Fred's bloodshot eyes focused on him. His voice sliced the silence like a blade.

"Well, Alex? I'm waiting. What the hell was that nonsense this morning?"

Alex couldn't meet his father's eyes. Shame weighed heavy on him. But then, slowly, he clenched his fists… and struck the wall behind him.

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

Three echoes. One punch—three ripples.

Fred's eyes widened. His voice cracked.

"Y-You… can you actually cultivate now?"

Alex smiled through misty eyes and rushed forward to embrace him.

"Yes, Father. You no longer have to listen to what they say about me. Your son… has finally grown."

Fred's body trembled. He returned the embrace, clinging tightly.

Just then, the door flew open.

"Fred! Don't yell at him again! If you hit our son—"

Alex's mother, Stella, stormed in, panic flooding her voice. Her eyes were wild with worry, her face pale from fear.

Fred turned to her, still holding Alex, and whispered with tearful eyes:

"Stella… our son… he can cultivate."

Her breath caught in her throat. She stumbled to her knees, overcome.

"Our boy… Alex, you really…"

"Mother," Alex said, smiling as tears streamed down her cheeks. "You don't have to worry anymore. About me breaking, about me falling behind, about my curse…"

"I'm Alex Aliostar. From today on, I'll grow strong enough to carry our name with pride."

The fire in his eyes burned with more than ambition—it was the spark of someone who had faced silence his whole life, and had finally found his voice.