At the ripe age of four weeks, Lee Yong-Su had accomplished several things:
Learned the language through osmosis and sheer spite.
Identified key materials for gunpowder while pretending to enjoy peekaboo.
Weaponized cuteness to command an elite resource-acquisition task force (a.k.a. gullible servants).
Mastered pooping with strategic timing during cultivation lectures.
But today... today was different.
Because today, his father decided it was time to test the baby's meridians.
"The Dantian Ceremony" (a.k.a. How To Poke a Baby Until It Glows)
The room was filled with silk-robed relatives and that one suspicious uncle who always looked like he'd sell a family heirloom for a dumpling. Everyone stood around Yong-Su's crib while a musty old cultivator waved incense and muttered about destiny.
"By thirty days, the spiritual core shall awaken if fate permits!"
Translation: We poke the kid and hope he doesn't explode or embarrass us.
Father leaned in dramatically.
"Son. Today we see if you are… gifted."
Yong-Su stared up at him, expression blank, inner monologue screaming:Gifted? I invented my first bottle rocket at age ten using PVC pipe and repressed rage. What do you bring to the table, 'Dad'—other than matching robes and overconfidence?
The cultivator pressed two fingers to Yong-Su's stomach.
A faint warmth pulsed.
The room gasped.
"He… he has meridians! Thick and steady flow!"
Yong-Su rolled his eyes internally. Of course he had qi. This was an isekai. What's next? Saying gravity still works?
The Problem With Qi
Qi, as it turned out, was weird. It felt like warm soda bubbling through his limbs. And while most babies would drool and squeal, Yong-Su immediately tried to weaponize it.
"Can I ignite something with this? Melt a candle? Smite that one rooster that wakes me up at 4 a.m.?"
Unfortunately, the answer was no. At his current level, he could wiggle his toes harder. That was it.
So instead of pursuing cultivation, he did what any pyromaniac reincarnated genius baby would do:He faked interest.
"Oh nooo, Grand Elder, I'm totally interested in... Qi Flow Formations. Definitely not watching where the charcoal is stored.""Mmm yes, please explain meridian blockages again. It's not like I'm mentally sketching black powder bombs in my brain or anything."
Fen's Mental Health (Status: Declining)
Meanwhile, Fen the Maid had developed a nervous tic. Every time Yong-Su laughed, her left eye twitched. Every time he stared too long at the fireplace, she muttered something about sealing wards and holy talismans.
She approached Madam with a dead-serious tone.
"I think the Young Master is… studying us. Like a tiny general planning war."
Madam chuckled.
"He's just bright."
"He mimed striking flint with two blocks of tofu."
"Creative!"
"He tried to chew on sulfur yesterday."
"…Maybe he's teething."
The Diaper Incident (Classified)
One chilly morning, Yong-Su was being changed on a padded table when a bowl of wood ash toppled from the window sill. Fen screamed. The baby laughed.
By sheer chaos theory, the ash landed on a half-burnt piece of bamboo under a nearby lantern.
Poof.
A tiny spark. A faint whoosh. Not quite an explosion. More like… a fart that graduated from Harvard.
The fire was extinguished in seconds. No damage. No injuries. But Fen was never the same.
She now wore a talisman on each wrist and sprinkled holy water in the baby formula.
Yong-Su?He marked it as a success in his mental Boom Journal™.
Baby Goals Update
☑ Understand the language.
☑ Identify potential materials.
☑ Traumatize at least one adult.
☑ Perform first unofficial ignition.
☐ Learn to walk.
☐ Build lab.
☐ Acquire test subjects volunteers.
☐ Invent flintlock.
☐ Market slogan: "Cultivate THIS, nerds."
Closing Thoughts of a Sleepy Madman
That night, he lay in his crib, swaddled like a deliciously malicious dumpling.
His parents cooed softly. Fen watched from the doorway like she expected him to grow fangs mid-snore.
As the candle flickered low, he whispered into the silence (internally, of course):
"This world... is kindling. And I am the match."
He smiled again.
The room grew colder.
The rooster in the courtyard hiccupped.