The days following Huo Rong's birth were marked by a mixture of cautious reverence and growing fear within the Huo Clan. The main hall of the Patriarch Huo Tian's family branch was transformed into a reinforced observation area. High-level fire qi containment formations were activated around the black jade cradle, specially designed to withstand extreme temperatures. The cradle itself was a clan heirloom, carved from volcanic stone stabilized by ancient runes, yet even so, small cracks were beginning to appear on the edges where the baby's tiny hands touched.
Huo Rong spent most of his time lying down, his deep red eyes half-closed, observing everything around him with an intensity unbecoming of a newborn. His tiny body already emitted a constant heat, like a living furnace. His pale skin displayed subtle reddish-black veins that pulsed slowly, like rivers of magma beneath the earth's crust. Every time a maidservant approached to change or feed him, he felt a wave of primal pleasure course through his still wordless being.
Warm... soft... mine.
These weren't complete thoughts. Not yet. They were impulses, raw desires born directly from his Innate Constitution, "Demonic Lava Body." When a young and beautiful maidservant named Xiao Lan—a 16-year-old girl at Body Temperament Stage 3, with fair skin and soft curves beginning to form—bent down to clean him, Huo Rong instinctively reached out his small hand. A droplet of reddish-black lava formed on her palm and fell onto her hand.
"Ouch!" Xiao Lan recoiled with a sharp cry, her skin instantly burning. The lava wasn't hot enough to melt her completely, but it corroded the flesh like acid, leaving a smoldering red mark that smelled of burnt meat. The girl fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face as she tried to suppress the pain with her weak qi.
Huo Rong felt a wave of pure delight. The smell of pain, the trembling in her body, the way her eyes filled with terror as she looked at him—it was as if something inside him awakened. Her tiny lips curved into a gurgling smile, almost a low, hoarse laugh that made the other maids present pale.
"Monster… he's a monster…" murmured an older maid, trembling as she helped Xiao Lan to her feet. "Matriarch, please… this child…"
Huo Yan, still recovering from the difficult birth, sat in a flaming wooden chair beside the crib. Her face, normally beautiful and dignified, was pale and marked by dark circles. She watched her son with a complex mixture of maternal instinct and deep fear. "Silence," she ordered in a weak but firm voice. "He is my son. The Patriarch's third son. Anyone who calls him a monster will be punished."
However, even as she spoke, Huo Yan felt a chill when Huo Rong turned those red eyes to her. It was as if he were undressing her with his gaze, even without yet understanding the concept. An instinctive lustful desire, born from his demonic constitution, made him feel pleasure just seeing feminine curves—breasts swollen with breast milk, wide hips, soft skin. He wanted to touch, burn, possess.
Patriarch Huo Tian entered the room at that moment, accompanied by the two elders. Huo Feng and Huo Ling watched the baby with somber expressions.
"The preliminary tests confirm it," Huo Feng said in a low voice. "High-grade Innate Constitution — Demonic Lava Body. It's rare, almost legendary. It can allow him to manipulate lava at levels our clan has never seen. But the qi is too corrosive. It devours normal qi. If we don't control it early on, it could become a threat even to us."
Huo Tian nodded, carefully picking up the baby. The lava dripping from Huo Rong's skin slightly burned his hands, but he endured it. "He will be strong. Stronger than his brothers. This could be our clan's chance to rise in rank against the Yan Clan, which has been pressuring our fire crystal mines for the past few years."
As his father held him, Huo Rong felt another wave of sadistic pleasure. He liked the warmth of his father's palm — it was power. But he preferred the softer touch of women. His little eyes turned again to Xiao Lan, who was still trembling in the corner, holding his burned hand. A bubble of lava formed again in his hand and floated slowly toward her, as if it had a will of its own.
Xiao Lan screamed and fled the room, leaving a trail of tears.
Huo Ling frowned. "He already demonstrates instinctive control. And a cruelty… natural. We need to teach him to suppress it or direct it toward the clan's enemies."
Huo Yan reached out to take her son. When Huo Rong was placed against her chest to nurse, he suckled forcefully,
"He… he's different," she whispered, stroking the baby's tiny head. "But he's mine. I'll raise him to be the pride of the clan."
Deep in Huo Rong's mind, the impulse grew slowly. Soft. Warm. I want more. I want to break… possess… melt everything that is beautiful.
The elders left to discuss containment measures. Huo Tian stayed a little longer, looking at his wife and son with pride mixed with worry. "He will be our future. But we will have to watch him closely."
That night, while the clan slept under the sky still marked by occasional dark clouds, Huo Rong lay awake in his crib. A small, blackish-red flame danced in the palm of his hand, forming rudimentary figures—like distorted faces of agony. He didn't yet understand what they were, but he felt pleasure in watching them writhe before dissolving.
The residual smell of Xiao Lan's burn still lingered in the air. To Huo Rong, it was the sweetest aroma he had ever smelled.