The candlelight flickered across the stone walls of the hidden chamber, casting long, wavering shadows as if even the air itself dared not settle. Within that quiet, stillness-shrouded room, Qian Daoliu stood frozen. His withered hands trembled at his sides, aged fingers twitching ever so slightly as if his body refused to accept what his heart had already begun to believe.
"Could it be...?"
The prophecy whispered across generations like an ember carried in the wind—a message left behind by the founder of the Spirit Hall. A tale so ancient that even time had nearly forgotten it. Yet now, standing in the face of this boy, hearing what Xiao Xue had said, the pieces began to fall together.
"Is he... really the founder, reborn in this era?"
Qian Daoliu drew a shallow breath. Whether it was truth or illusion mattered little. If there was even the slimmest possibility that this boy was the reincarnation of their founder, then it was no longer just a matter of myth—it became a matter of utmost importance to Spirit Hall.
And secrecy would be paramount.
Especially from Bibi Dong.
He narrowed his eyes. She held the reins of Spirit Hall now—sharp, cunning, ambitious. He knew her too well. If the founder truly had returned, his existence would be a threat to her power. And if that founder happened to be a child... she would not hesitate to eliminate the danger before it had time to bloom.
No, this could not be allowed to spread. Not yet. Not until he had seen it with his own eyes.
"I'll need to confirm this myself," Qian Daoliu murmured, the words carried softly away by the breath of candlelight.
Nuoding Primary Spirit Master Academy
The scent of old parchment hung in the room like incense, grounding the silence with a scholarly air. Books lay stacked in uneven piles across every surface, their pages marked and annotated in cramped handwriting. Within this quiet sanctuary, the man known simply as Grandmaster sat alone, his eyes scanning the pages of a thick tome with grim concentration.
His thoughts were elsewhere.
Tang San must grow stronger. He has to surpass Qian Yu.
Since that bitter defeat, Tang San had pushed himself relentlessly—training past midnight, waking before dawn, his spirit hardened like iron in a forge. The Grandmaster had watched all of it in silence, pride and concern intertwined like twin vines around his heart.
But Qian Yu... he had become more than just a rival. He was a shadow lingering over both their hearts.
The boy had shattered Tang San's confidence—and mine.
One lost in theory, the other in strength. And now both teacher and student found themselves chasing ghosts they could no longer ignore.
"If only Qian Yu could disappear from this world..." the Grandmaster muttered, the thought slipping out before he could catch it.
A knock at the door broke the silence.
He frowned. No one visits, save Tang San...
"Come in," he called, voice low and indifferent as he set the book aside.
The door creaked open, revealing a towering man framed in the doorway. He wore a plain, ash-grey cloak that draped heavily over broad shoulders, and his dark hair fell messily across a weathered face. Time had carved its story into every line—though his body spoke of fifty winters, his eyes held the weariness of a man far older.
"Hello, Grandmaster," the man said, voice deep, gravelly, and strangely hollow.
A sudden chill traced the Grandmaster's spine. His soul power stirred instinctively, rising like a tide beneath his skin.
"You are...?"
He stood slowly, a flicker of caution in his gaze.
"It's been twenty years since we last met," the stranger said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I wouldn't blame you for not recognizing me in this state. My name is Tang Hao."
The Grandmaster's eyes widened, all color draining from his face.
"You... You're the Clear Sky—"
Tang Hao lifted a hand to silence him.
"Don't speak that name. It belongs to a past I've already buried," he said coldly. "Back then, people thought you were a madman. But I always knew—you were simply... relentless."
The Grandmaster's breathing slowed, emotions reeling. Finally, his expression softened.
"So I was right. You are Tang San's father. He's returned home. What are you doing here?"
Tang Hao nodded.
"Exactly because he's returned. I knew he'd come to you. As his father, I should have met you sooner. But now..." His voice trailed off, eyes distant. "I must leave again. He is the only thing that ties me to this world. I entrust him to you."
"Leave? But he's your son!" The Grandmaster's voice cracked, indignation rising like heat.
Tang Hao remained unmoved. "And he is your student. I have things I must face—places I must go. He will not find happiness walking my path. Let him choose his own."
The Grandmaster inhaled deeply, grounding himself.
"Whatever you've gone through, I don't know," he said. "But Tang San looks up to you. Walking away like this—don't you think that's cruel?"
Tang Hao's reply was steady, if distant. "What's cruel... is forcing him to follow a man like me."
He turned as if to leave, but the Grandmaster's voice stopped him.
"Do you even know what Tang San's been through?"
Tang Hao paused. "You've seen him?"
"He was defeated," the Grandmaster said, words cutting like flint. "By Qian Yu. Since then, that name has haunted him like a curse. He trains until his body gives out. He bleeds. He breaks. All to surpass someone he might never reach."
Tang Hao's eyes darkened, his breath catching.
"He's not strong enough," he whispered.
"No," the Grandmaster said, stepping forward, eyes sharp. "But you are."
Tang Hao turned slowly, brows furrowing.
"What are you implying?"
"If you let Qian Yu continue to grow unchecked, Tang San will chase him to his own ruin," the Grandmaster said, voice hard. "If that boy ever kills Tang San—will you be able to live with yourself?"
For a heartbeat, silence reigned.
Tang Hao flinched. A shudder rippled through him as if the weight of his own doubts had finally settled on his shoulders. He remembered that day in Saint Spirit Village. The boy—Qian Yu. That power, that impossible martial soul.
And then, like a dagger slid between ribs, the Grandmaster said coolly, "By the way... you should know. Qian Yu has joined Spirit Hall."
The words struck like thunder.
Tang Hao staggered slightly.
Joined... Spirit Hall?
His jaw clenched. He knew that bloodline. Knew what it meant. Qian Yu's martial soul was no ordinary power—it was born of that shadowed bloodline, the one tied to the spectral Douluo of legend. If Qian Yu grew beneath Spirit Hall's banner... he would become unstoppable.
And Spirit Hall was his enemy. Always had been.
For his son's sake—for the sake of peace—perhaps it was time to remove this threat before it matured.
"If you want Tang San to live freely," the Grandmaster whispered, "then you know what must be done."
A cruel smile ghosted across his lips.
Tang Hao said nothing. He turned and walked away.
From behind him, the Grandmaster's quiet laughter echoed like distant thunder.
"They say the Clear Sky Douluo is fiercely protective of his own... Qian Yu, oh Qian Yu... You've made a fatal mistake by joining Spirit Hall."
His laugh deepened into something wild and bitter.
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