The hall held its breath.
Light from the towering window spilled across polished marble floors, where a massive crest—a longsword plunging straight down, etched in silver—seemed to point accusingly at the gathering. The silence was absolute, broken only by the soft rustle of robes and the faint hum of magic that still lingered in the air.
Master Ma Xiu Nuo stared at the boy before him, eyes wide, mouth parted in stunned disbelief.
No… this wasn't right.
That crystal orb—they all knew its limits. It was designed to withstand a soul power level of up to twenty. And yet, it had shattered the moment this child, Qian Yu, placed his hand upon it. Shattered like fragile glass in a thunderstorm.
That could only mean one thing.
"He's beyond Level Twenty…" Ma Xiu Nuo whispered under his breath, barely audible. "Innate Level Twenty? No, no—it has to be even higher…"
He turned, addressing Qian Yu with a reluctant sigh, his voice heavy with what might have been awe… or regret. "Come on, then. Let's begin the evaluation."
He paused, eyes lingering on the boy's calm expression. "If your martial spirit were anything else… anything at all… you would have been a legend in the making." He shook his head. "What a pity."
Qian Yu said nothing. He didn't need to. He knew better than anyone what his martial spirit truly was—and what it wasn't.
They moved into the testing chamber: a vast, high-ceilinged space that swallowed their footsteps. The air inside was cool and still. Sunlight poured in through enormous windows, painting golden stripes across the floor where a crest identical to the one outside had been carved deep into the stone.
Ma Xiu Nuo caught Qian Yu's glance at the emblem and chuckled softly. "This is the lowest tier of the Spirit Halls, you know," he explained. "Just a branch hall. Even the smallest cities on the continent have one like it."
He gestured with a slow wave of the hand, as if recalling a well-rehearsed hierarchy. "Above us are the Sub-Halls… then the Main Halls, which only major cities possess. At the very top—beyond even the capitals of the two great empires—is the Holy Hall, the Pope's domain. And beyond that…"
His voice dipped into reverence.
"…is the legendary Hall of Worship. Only soul masters who reach the Douluo level are allowed to set foot there. That place is the final sanctuary of the strongest—every soul master's dream."
Qian Yu listened in quiet contemplation, his eyes distant.
He remembered once founding a tiny organization of spirit users. Back then, it had been modest. Insignificant, even. Never in his wildest thoughts did he imagine that, thousands of years later, that seed would grow into the towering institution they now stood in.
"Alright, let's begin," Ma Xiu Nuo said at last, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Release your martial spirit. Show us your soul ring."
"Yun Tao," a girl's voice piped in teasingly from the side, "how many years do you think that kid's soul ring will have? Ten? Maybe fifteen?"
"Just wait and see," Su Yun Tao replied flatly, refusing to take the bait.
The girl—Silk—snorted. "With a little hibiscus like that? I bet he's got a cheap ten-year ring. He might as well be a spirit master in name only."
Su Yun Tao said nothing, but his gaze sharpened.
No… There was something different about this boy.
He remembered the crystal orb shattering. That wasn't something even many elite adults could achieve. He suspected that the seemingly ordinary hibiscus spirit the boy wielded was anything but.
"Go ahead," Ma Xiu Nuo said warmly, gesturing forward. "Let's see it, child."
Qian Yu nodded once. Then, without a word, he raised his hand—and the transformation began.
Darkness bloomed.
A black hibiscus flower unfurled in the air like ink spilling across silk, its petals shimmering with an eerie sheen, deep and unknowable. The room dimmed, the sunlight suddenly distant.
Silk's smirk faltered.
"So… it really is just a hibiscus…" she whispered, trying to reclaim her composure.
But before anyone could speak, a slow pulse of power rippled outward.
From Qian Yu's feet, a ring of pure shadow began to rise—sluggish, majestic, and impossibly black. It hovered in the air, spinning gently as if time itself dared not approach.
The silence returned.
Everyone stopped breathing.
Every eye locked onto that ring, and for several heartbeats, no one moved. Even the ambient magic in the chamber stilled, as if shocked into silence.
Silk's voice cracked the air like dry leaves.
"…Black…?"
Her words faltered, disbelieving.
"A black soul ring?"
She turned to Yun Tao, panic lacing her voice. "Do you know what that means?!"
Su YunTao started, speechless. He'd never seen one—not here, not in this remote city of Nuoding. The highest he'd ever witnessed was a purple, thousand-year ring.
But this?
This was black.
A ten-thousand-year soul ring.
Ma Xiu Nuo stumbled back, his mouth dry. "That… that's not possible. That child… how could he possibly…"
At that moment, behind Qian Yu, the soul force detector flared to life—and revealed the impossible.
Level Thirty.
The room reeled.
One soul ring. Level Thirty.
It couldn't be. By every known law of soul cultivation, a spirit master needed three rings to reach that level. First ring to break Level Ten. Second for Level Twenty. Third for Level Thirty.
But Qian Yu had just one.
Which meant…
"He's… innately Level Thirty…" Ma Xiu Nuo murmured, his knees weak.
A genius? No. Monstrous didn't even begin to describe it.
Silk stared at Qian Yu like he had sprouted wings and flown. A moment ago, she'd ridiculed him. Now, she couldn't even form words.
"Yun Tao… he… he's really Level Thirty…"
And only six or seven years old.
Even Su Yun Tao hadn't reached that level, and he was a registered member of the Spirit Hall.
"How?" Su Yun Tao whispered. "His spirit is a mutated hibiscus. How could he have such overwhelming soul power? And that ring… a ten-thousand-year soul ring? There's no way a child could kill a beast that old. Or survive the fusion."
He backed away, shaking his head.
No—something didn't add up.
Ma Xiu Nuo looked just as shaken. He had never seen such a phenomenon. Never even heard of it.
Then, a thought struck Su Yun Tao like lightning.
"I get it now!" he said suddenly. "It's fake. It has to be!"
He pointed at the floating black ring. "That's not a ten-thousand-year soul ring. It's a regular ten-year ring… dyed black!"
Ma Xiu Nuo blinked. "But black means ten thousand. It's clearly the color—"
"No!" Su Yun Tao insisted. "His martial spirit mutated into black, right? A hibiscus flower can't be black. So what if… what if the ring mutated too?"
He looked back at Qian Yu, voice rising with nervous certainty. "It's all the same phenomenon. His soul ring is just as tainted as his spirit. It's not real. It's a fake!"
But no one in the room looked convinced—not even Su Yun Tao himself.
Because deep down, they all felt it.
That pressure. That aura.
That soul ring was no imitation.
And the boy who stood calmly at the center of it all, his black flower glowing faintly in the sunlight, remained silent.
He didn't need to explain himself.
His presence alone said everything.
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