Snow drifted lazily across the imperial gardens, the soft white hush at odds with the sudden turbulence in Xue Qinghe's chest. He stood still for a breathless moment, his heart thundering in the quiet, the words echoing in his mind like a thunderclap that refused to fade.
Could it really be true?
This boy… Qian Yu…
Could he truly be the reincarnation of their clan's founder?
A chill swept through him, far colder than the snow.
No ordinary soul master—no matter how gifted—was born with soul power at the thirtieth level. That level of innate strength defied natural law. The only known exception… was their forefather: the legendary Netherworld Douluo. His spirit, the Umbral Begonia, had vanished from the world for generations.
The seraphic Six-Winged Angel spirit had long been the Spirit Hall's inherited emblem, passed down through their bloodline. Yet even that sacred spirit had not come from the founder himself, but rather from his wife—the Angel Douluo.
It had always been a quiet shame, whispered only behind closed doors. The Umbral Begonia had faded from the bloodline, as if deliberately erased. Not one of their descendants had ever awakened it again.
Not until now.
Xue Qinghe's eyes narrowed. A boy named Qian Yu. A spirit long thought extinct. A legacy lost to time, now resurrected in flesh and bone. Even if it were a coincidence... it was too precise, too significant to ignore.
It had to be investigated. Thoroughly. Discreetly.
A guard stepped forward, sensing the prince's pause.
"Your Highness? Is something wrong?"
Xue Qinghe's expression softened instantly, returning to the calm composure expected of the Star Luo Empire's royal heir.
"It's nothing," he said, voice even and unconcerned. "Let's keep moving."
"Yes, Your Highness."
With two guards in tow, Xue Qinghe turned and walked away, his steps unhurried, betraying nothing. But inside, his mind raced. His status—his secrets—could not be exposed. If this discovery were linked to him in any obvious way, the consequences could be catastrophic. No. Whatever inquiry was needed... it would be done in the shadows.
Once he was gone, the tension in the room broke like a snapped thread. A hefty man finally lifted his head, exhaling in relief as he mopped sweat from his brow.
"Thought he was going to say something..." he muttered.
His gaze landed on Su Yuntao, still frozen in place like a cornered rabbit.
"What are you staring at? Get lost!"
Su Yuntao scrambled to his feet and nearly tripped over himself as he fled the room. His heart pounded with a cocktail of fear and embarrassment. He had no illusions—people like that, people with real power, could erase him with a flick of the wrist.
He didn't wait around to test that theory. Moments later, he was already on the road, heading toward Nuoding City as fast as his legs would carry him.
The capital, he decided, was no place for country men like him.
A Few Days Later – Spirit City, Spirit Hall
Within the towering sanctum of Spirit Hall, an elder sat alone in a grand chamber draped in silks and shadow. Platinum embroidery shimmered faintly on his pristine white robes. His hair, snow-white and immaculately combed, framed a long beard that rested like fog over his chest. Age had not dimmed his eyes, only sharpened them.
He was Qian Daoliu, Grand Worshipper of the Spirit Hall—its most venerated elder, and one of the last to know the deeper truths buried beneath layers of history and myth.
Without warning, a sleek hawk swooped down through the high windows of the hall, its feathers flashing silver as it landed silently before him.
Qian Daoliu recognized it instantly. This soul beast was no ordinary messenger—it belonged to Xue Qinghe. Trained to move unnoticed, unharmed, and unfailing, the hawk was far more secure than any pigeon or scroll runner.
His heart quickened as he untied the message from its leg.
He didn't need to guess. If Xue Qinghe had risked sending a message, it could only mean one thing—something crucial had been discovered.
He unfolded the parchment.
At first, his brows furrowed, puzzled. Then his eyes widened. The words hit him like a blow:
A child in Nuoding City. Name: Qian Yu. Spirit: Umbral Begonia. Innate soul power: Level Thirty. Possesses a ten-thousand-year soul ring.
Qian Daoliu's hands trembled.
That name...
The Umbral Begonia…
The very same spirit as him. The founder of the Spirit Hall. Their bloodline's origin. A man whispered in awe and fear.
Qian Yu.
He pushed to his feet, robes billowing around him, and strode down the corridors of the hall like a man possessed.
Moments later, he descended into the sealed archives beneath the Hall—the forbidden chambers where their most ancient texts were guarded in silence and dust. He passed one lock, then another, each door heavier than the last, until at last, he reached the heart of the library.
From an iron-bound chest, he retrieved a thick tome bound in midnight leather. The air grew still.
This was his story—the life of Netherworld Douluo.
Qian Daoliu had skimmed it once in his youth, but never studied it deeply. Now, he reads every word with desperate hunger.
The man once called Qian Yu had been a monster of a soul master—power unmatched, ruthless in battle, feared by entire cities. His name had once struck terror into the hearts of ten Titled Douluo, five of whom had perished by his hand. The others... had barely escaped with their lives.
He had married Angel Douluo and together, they founded Spirit Hall.
After she ascended to godhood, he vanished.
Some said he followed her. Others whispered of reincarnation.
And then—one final page.
His eyes halted on a line penned in a sharp, ancient hand, like a dagger carved into parchment:
"Ten thousand years from now, I shall return. Reborn. To reign once more."
The book slipped from his fingers.
It landed with a soft thud against the floor.
Qian Daoliu stood frozen, a single thought echoing in his heart, loud and terrifying.
Could it truly be him?
His lips moved silently as he read those final words again.
"…Reborn… to reign…"
His hands shook. His heart, long tempered by decades of battle and solitude, now beat with childlike awe.
He whispered:
"…Impossible…"
But even as he said it, he couldn't look away.
And somewhere, in a quiet corner of Nuoding City…
A boy named Qian Yu smiled beneath falling leaves—unaware of the storm he had just awakened.
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