After returning to Nuoding Academy, Qian Yu resumed a quiet, untroubled life.
For someone like him, classes held little meaning. What the teachers knew, he already knew—and what they didn't, he still did. With little to gain from the lectures, his days became leisurely strolls through the academy grounds, usually with Xiao Wu playfully tagging along.
But something had changed.
Ever since his defeat of Tang San and Wang Sheng, Qian Yu's name carried a new weight. His presence alone stirred whispers and sidelong glances; no one dared provoke him anymore. Even the teachers, once aloof or indifferent, now greeted him with careful courtesy and nervous respect.
Only Tang San remained unchanged.
Defeat hadn't broken the boy—instead, it lit a fire within him. Day after day, Tang San trained with desperate intensity, driven by the bitter sting of loss. He was determined to surpass Qian Yu.
Qian Yu, however, hardly noticed.
In his eyes, Tang San had already lost. An opponent who'd been beaten once wasn't worth considering again. No matter how fiercely he trained, he would never catch up. Not to Qian Yu.
And so, the days flowed by like a quiet stream.
Far away, under the vast sky of the Heaven Dou Empire, a lone rider thundered across the road. Dust clouded his heels as he urged his steed forward, his heart pounding with a mix of awe and urgency.
Su Yuntao had finally arrived.
Before him loomed Heaven Dou City—grand and sprawling, its silhouette etched in gold by the late afternoon sun. And at its heart stood the Spirit Hall, a colossal structure that dwarfed the one in his tiny hometown of Nuoding tenfold.
He stared up at it, wide-eyed. It was his first time in a place so radiant, so majestic. Even the air smelled richer here.
Approaching the main gate, Su Yuntao slowed his pace. The two guards posted there didn't look particularly fearsome—until he felt the pressure rolling off them in waves. He couldn't sense their power, which meant only one thing: they were far stronger than him.
As he stepped forward, they crossed their halberds.
"Halt. Identify yourself."
Startled, Su Yuntao fumbled through his robes and quickly produced a token bearing the emblem of the Spirit Hall. "I-I'm a Spirit Master from Nuoding City. I've come to deliver a message—urgent business!"
The guards exchanged a glance. Nuoding? That backwater?
Still, the token was genuine. With a silent nod, they allowed him to pass.
Inside, Su Yuntao was directed to a reception hall, where a rotund man lounged in a chair like it was a throne, legs crossed arrogantly. This was the clerk assigned to manage arrivals.
Su Yuntao stepped forward with a deep bow. "Sir, I bring a message from the Nuoding Spirit Hall. I was ordered to deliver it personally. The matter is... of great importance."
"Important?" the man snorted, barely glancing at him. "What kind of 'important' news could come from a dusty corner like Nuoding?"
Su Yuntao respectfully handed him the sealed letter.
As the clerk unfolded it, his brows twitched in confusion—then he burst into laughter.
"Hah! This has to be the most ridiculous thing I've read all week." He jabbed a finger at Su Yuntao, still chuckling. "A mutated begonia spirit? Rank thirty innate soul power? A ten-thousand-year soul ring... on a six-year-old child?"
His laughter echoed through the marble hall.
"You people must be desperate to get attention. Who wrote this, a poet? There's no way a begonia mutation could achieve that kind of power—and a child surviving a ten-thousand-year soul ring? Ludicrous!"
Su Yuntao stiffened. "Sir, I swear on my life—everything in that letter is true. I dare not fabricate even a word."
The man's grin soured.
"You're trying my patience," he growled, standing up with heavy steps. "If you don't stop this nonsense, I'll have you thrown out myself. You really expect us to believe a prodigy like that could come from a place like Nuoding? Take your fantasy and go back where you came from. Heaven Dou City is no place for country fools."
Just then, the great doors creaked open.
A young noble walked in, flanked by two silent bodyguards. He couldn't have been older than thirteen or fourteen, but his appearance was striking—like a snow-born prince carved from porcelain and moonlight. His skin glowed pale against the rich fabric of his clothes. His eyes, sharp and elongated like a phoenix's, shimmered with quiet command. If dressed as a girl, he could pass as a peerless beauty.
Su Yuntao, still kneeling on the cold floor, saw him and raised his voice desperately. "My lord! Please—what I say is the truth! The boy's name is Qian Yu. He lives in Nuoding. If you doubt me, send someone to confirm it yourself!"
The youth halted.
So did his guards.
The fat clerk scowled and waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. As if a prince would travel to your sorry little town. Guards, get him out of here—"
"Stop."
The voice, though soft, cut through the room like a blade. The young noble stepped forward, his gaze calm but intense.
The clerk froze.
When he finally looked up and saw who had spoken, his face went pale. In a heartbeat, he dropped to his knees and bowed until his forehead touched the floor.
"P-Prime Prince! Your Majesty, please forgive—"
This was Xue Qinghe, the crown prince of the Heaven Dou Empire. But behind that noble name lay another truth.
He was also Qian Renxue—the Saintess of Spirit Hall.
Xue Qinghe stood silently in front of Su Yuntao. "Repeat what you said."
Su Yuntao lowered his head in deference. "Your Highness... In Nuoding City, a boy named Qian Yu has appeared. His martial spirit is a black, mutated begonia. He was born with level thirty innate soul power. And... he possesses a ten-thousand-year soul ring."
The prince's eyes flickered.
"His name... is Qian Yu?"
"Yes, Your Highness," Su Yuntao whispered.
Xue Qinghe's breath caught in his throat. The name. That name—it was no coincidence.
Qian Yu was no ordinary name in the annals of Spirit Hall. Every high-ranking member knew it. It was the name of their founder, the great Ghost Douluo, whose spirit was the terrifying Nether Begonia.
A legend. A shadow passed down in reverent whispers.
And now, a boy from the wilderness, bearing the same martial spirit—and the same name?
It couldn't be... could it?
"Are you certain of this?" the prince asked, his voice measured.
"I swear it on my life, Your Highness. I would never speak such things lightly. To lie about this... would be a death sentence."
Xue Qinghe's heart trembled beneath his composed façade.
A child with that name, that spirit, and that level of power... Could it truly be a coincidence?
Or had the founder returned?
He couldn't say it aloud. Not yet. But the possibility burned like a flame in his chest.
Too perfect. Too precise. Too much to ignore.
And so, the winds of fate shifted once more.
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