The gilded carriage of Archon Dugu rolled away from the grand estate, its wheels carving deep tracks into the damp earth. As it vanished into the thick mist, three figures—hidden until now among the ancient, gnarled trees—slipped into motion. Like phantoms woven from shadow, they dissolved into the wilderness, each darting in a separate direction. Their mission was complete; now, they would return to their masters with the secrets they had stolen.
The Dugu Clan's territory lay deep within the Moonveil Marshes, a land veiled in eternal mist, where waterways twisted like serpents through the fog. Though not entirely landlocked, the Marshes were cradled by two colossal rivers—the Argentflow to the east and the Dusktide to the west—whose currents shaped the land's fate. No ocean touched these wetlands, only the borders of powerful neighbors.
To the north stood the Radiant Crownlands, a realm of golden fields and towering spires, where light itself seemed to bend to noble will. To the south stretched the Stoneveil Barrens, a desolate expanse of jagged rock and howling winds. The east was guarded by the Silvershade Highlands, where silver-capped peaks pierced the sky, forever wrapped in ghostly fog. And to the west lay the Silverveil Barrens, a haunted plain where the air carried the whispers of the dead.
The three shadows belonged to the Gravemoor Clan, the Lunacrest Clan, and the Royal Family of Aurellan—each hungry for knowledge, each weaving their own schemes in the dark.
Far away, in the heart of the Aurellan capital, the aged Queen Aurelia sat upon her Lotus Throne, a masterpiece of enchanted jade and silver. Her robes, woven from threads of captured starlight, shimmered like moonlit water as she listened to the endless drone of court politics. Advisors bickered over taxes, merchants argued trade routes, and generals debated military deployments—all beneath the vaulted ceilings of the Grand Hall.
The Queen's expression was one of practiced indifference, her sharp eyes half-lidded as she occasionally lifted a hand to dismiss or approve a matter with a flick of her wrist. Her mind was elsewhere—until a ripple of energy shuddered through the hall.
The air itself seemed to part as a figure clad in the obsidian armor of the Radiant Guard materialized before the throne. He knelt, the insignia of a Radiant Douluo gleaming faintly on his chest.
"Your Majesty," his voice was a blade's whisper, cutting through the silence. "I bring word of the Dugu Clan."
The hall stilled. Even the most stubborn lords fell quiet, their eyes darting between the messenger and the throne.
Queen Aurelia's gaze sharpened. The weight of her attention pressed down like a gathering storm.
"Speak," she commanded, her voice soft—yet carrying the promise of thunder.
____________________________________________________
Dugu Bo and Dugu Xin remained unaware of the danger quietly stalking them.
Unseen by mortal eyes, countless powerful spirit beasts had already set their gaze upon the two intruders as they trudged deeper into the Core Region. The air grew heavier, the mist thicker, as if the swamp itself was holding its breath.
Then—
Silence.
The swamp, once filled with the constant croaks, rustles, and buzz of life, suddenly fell deathly still.
An unnatural, fragrant aroma wafted through the thick air—sweet, inviting, yet laced with a hidden peril that prickled at the back of Dugu Bo's throat. His instincts screamed.
"Xin'er," he called out, his voice low and grave. "Do you smell that?"
"I do," Dugu Xin replied, his brow furrowing as he scanned their surroundings.
Yet even as Dugu Bo circulated his spirit power to inspect himself, he found no abnormalities. No poison had invaded his body. No external force was acting upon him.
The danger was far deeper, far subtler.
Without realizing it, the two were being drawn forward—pulled by an invisible will that neither sight nor spirit sense could resist. Other spirit beasts shrank back, unwilling to challenge the presence behind that force. The deeper they went, the more oppressive the air became, until even breathing felt like swallowing molten lead.
For nearly an hour, they advanced through the silent, mist-shrouded swamp, until at last, they stood before a towering tree—a colossal giant that stretched so high into the heavens that its crown was lost among the clouds. Its trunk was wider than a city gate, its bark blackened with age yet shimmering faintly with an eerie, bioluminescent glow.
Suddenly, the tree shone.
A dazzling radiance burst forth, forcing Dugu Bo and Xin to shield their eyes. The light pulsed like a heartbeat, rhythmic and alive, before dimming just as quickly.
As the brilliance faded, they saw it:
A small, ethereal figure floated in the air before them—a boy, no more than seven or nine years old, his bright red hair gleaming like fire, his eyes burning the same crimson hue. He wore a seafoam-green robe that shimmered faintly, as though woven from mist itself.
The boy smiled at them, mischievous and carefree.
"It's been hundreds of years since I last saw humans come this deep," he said lightly, twirling in the air like a leaf caught in the wind. "Honestly, I almost forgot you existed. I thought some spirit beast had wiped you all out."
He floated lazily above their heads, exuding an ancient aura that made the swamp itself seem to bow in his presence. The very air trembled with his power.
"I am known as Manchineel," the boy said proudly, gesturing toward the colossal tree behind him. "My true body is that tree. The others usually kill any human before they get this far... or the miasma does the job. But you two..." His gaze sharpened briefly, curious and calculating. "You're immune to the poison, aren't you?"
A pause. Then his lips curled into a knowing smirk.
"Or perhaps... the poison within you is what's slowly killing you instead."
There was no need for further confirmation.
The sheer oppressive spirit energy radiating from Manchineel told Dugu Bo everything he needed to know.
This was no ordinary spirit beast—this was a true ancient existence, a being that had witnessed empires rise and fall, a creature whose power surpassed even the mightiest Spirit Hall elders.
'He's treating us so casually because he could crush us like ants if he wished,' Dugu Bo realized grimly. 'We stand no chance against a 100,000-year-old spirit beast... let alone one that has lived as long as this one. This power is suffocating.'
He flinched slightly as Dugu Xin wriggled in his grasp.
"Father, put me down," Xin said, his tone steady despite the overwhelming pressure.
Realizing the futility of maintaining any false sense of control, Dugu Bo gently lowered his son to the ground.
Facing Manchineel, Dugu Xin spoke respectfully, "It is as you say. The poison from our spirit beasts is eating away at us." He hesitated, then asked the question burning in his mind. "But... why did you lead us here? Why reveal yourself to us?"
Manchineel floated lazily, yawning as he answered, "Hmm... it's boring, that's why! The other spirit beasts are all busy cultivating, trying to reach Sanctuary and follow the Beast King." He stretched out his arms dramatically. "But me?" A playful grin. "I don't need to do anything special. I grow stronger just by existing."
A tinge of sadness flickered across the boy's youthful face.
"My roots long ago transformed this place... It's less of a swamp now, and more a forest shaped by my will." His voice softened, almost wistful. "But there's no one to talk to. Nothing to dooooooo..."
Manchineel pouted like a child, yet even his casual words carried an immense, crushing loneliness—the weight of centuries spent in isolation.
Moved by the strange spirit beast's openness, Dugu Xin stepped closer to the massive trunk. Hesitating only briefly, he placed his hand gently against the bark.
Flash.
In that moment, a flood of information rushed into his mind.
[Spirit Beast Data]
Species: Manchineel
Age: 298,182 years
Cultivation Age: 1,963,456 years
Description:
Known as the Tree of Death, the most poisonous existence in all of creation.
Its sap causes blindness and blistering on contact.
Standing beneath it in rain can melt flesh; breathing smoke from its wood causes death.
Its fruit, the Manzanilla de la Muerte, brings agonizing death with just a single bite.
Ascension Path:
To ascend to godhood, Manchineel must either:
Retract its vast roots, solidify its cultivation, and survive the Heavenly Tribulation.Bond willingly with a human, tying its fate to theirs. When that human reaches the Rank 99 pinnacle (Quasi-God), they will ascend together.
Warning:
If left alone, Manchineel's roots will continue to spread. Within a hundred years, it will lose its consciousness entirely, becoming nothing more than a hollow husk of power.
As the information receded, Xin stumbled back, gasping. His hand, which had only briefly touched the bark, was already reddened and blistered—a testament to the terrifying toxicity of the Manchineel.
Clutching his hand, Xin looked up at the floating boy, eyes wide in awe and sorrow.
'So powerful... yet so lonely...'
The realization struck him like a thunderbolt.
This ancient being, this god-like entity, was dying—not from weakness, but from sheer loneliness.
And somehow...
Somehow, Dugu Xin understood.
Because he, too, knew what it was like to be poisoned from within.
"If you're so lonely," Xin growled through gritted teeth, his fingers trembling as the corrosive poison seared through his flesh like molten iron. Yet he refused to scream. "Then why not transform into a human?"
For a moment, the swamp fell eerily silent.
Manchineel's ever-playful expression twisted into something rare—a frown. His crimson eyes dimmed, the glow of his luminous fruit flickering like dying embers.
"To do that…" His voice, the once light and mocking, turned solemn. "I would have to abandon all my cultivation—every ounce of power I've gained over nearly three hundred thousand years. Too start again as a weak, pitiful human child." His lips curled in disdain. "And even then, what would most likely happen the moment I stepped into the human world, countless spirit masters would hunt me for my spirit ring and bones."
A cold wind howled through the twisted trees, carrying the scent of decay.
Manchineel's form shimmered, his translucent body pulsing with suppressed energy. "Here, I am invincible. Even the Swamp King cannot touch me. I am the ruler of this domain—the strongest spirit beast in the Core Region."
Xin's heart clenched. He's right. Nothing in this cursed swamp could challenge him. Manchineel was untouchable—a being who had transcended the limits of most spirit beasts, yet remained trapped in eternal solitude.
But Xin refused to yield.
"What if…" he began carefully, his voice steady despite the pain, "there was another way? A way for you to never be alone again—without sacrificing your power?"
Manchineel's glow flared like a newborn star.
"Really?!" In a flash, he zipped forward, his tiny hands clutching Xin's collar. The sheer force of his hope sent ripples through the stagnant air. "How? Tell me!"
Xin met his desperate gaze. "Bond with my father. Not just as spirit ring, but as a spirit soul—living within his spirit sea. You won't lose your existence. You'll only… change forms." He swallowed hard. "Your spirit, your essence—everything that makes you you—will merge with his."
Manchineel's grip loosened. Slowly, he turned toward Dugu Bo, curiosity igniting in his crimson eyes.
"A spirit soul…" he mused, tilting his head like a child examining a new toy. "That does sound… interesting." A slow, intrigued smile spread across his face. "How do we do it?"
Xin exhaled. "Place your hand on his head. Offer your spirit power willingly. The bond will form naturally." 'Hopefully.'
Understanding flickered in Dugu Bo's eyes. Without hesitation, he sat cross-legged, his back straight, his expression resolute.
Manchineel floated forward, his tiny fingers outstretched. For the first time in centuries—perhaps ever—his movements were gentle, almost reverent.
The moment his palm touched Dugu Bo's forehead—
BOOM.
The very air shattered.
A cataclysmic wave of spirit energy erupted, sending shockwaves tearing through the swamp. Trees splintered, the earth trembled, and the sky itself seemed to ripple like disturbed water.
The fusion had begun.
First—the spirit bone.
A searing emerald light burst from Dugu Bo's chest, shredding his robes to ribbons. His scream tore through the swamp—raw, primal, the sound of a soul being reforged. Across his skin, luminous patterns unfurled: twisting branches, heavy with glowing, venomous fruit, intertwining with the jade serpent tattoos that had marked him for decades.
It was a fallen paradise—an Eden of poison and power, etched into his flesh.
But the pain had only just begun.
Next—cultivation bestowal.
Manchineel, suppressing his own overwhelming strength, began sacrificing his spirit energy to elevate Dugu Bo's rank.
73… 74… 75…
Dugu Bo's seven spirit rings spun violently, their colors deepening, their aura intensifying.
76… 77… 78… 79…
And then—
CRACK.
A sound like breaking chains.
Rank 80.
Peak Spirit Saint.
Above him, Manchineel's form blazed brighter and brighter, his body dissolving into pure energy. At last, with a final, radiant pulse, he condensed into a spirit ring—unlike any other.
Not black. Not red.
But a swirling, iridescent fusion of seafoam green, crimson, and gold, hovering majestically behind Dugu Bo.
Yet—the transformation was not complete.
Within Dugu Bo's spirit sea, a new presence emerged.
Manchineel materialized, sitting cross-legged in midair like a mischievous child-king. Around him loomed the spectral forms of Dugu Bo's spirit beast—and the phantoms of the Spirt rings he had absorbed over a lifetime of battle, of cultivation.
"Hi, Snake!" Manchineel chirped, waving at the colossal Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor.
Before the serpent could react, Manchineel reached out—and tapped its forehead.
BOOM.
The spirit sea quaked.
A divine mutation erupted.
Manchineel's boundless spirit power surged into Dugu Bo's rings, igniting them like torches. One by one, their colors deepened—purple to black, black to crimson.
100,000-year spirit rings.
All seven of them.
At the same time, the Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor convulsed, its body splitting, twisting—
One head became two.
Two became three.
Until at last—
A nine-headed Hydra loomed over the spirit sea, its scales gleaming like jade, its aura ancient and suffocating.
Outside, Xin stumbled back, his breath catching in his throat.
His father's spirit rings had transformed.
Seven blood-red rings rotated around the dazzling, tri-colored Million Year old Spirit Ring, their combined pressure so immense it seemed to warp reality itself.
Dugu Bo stood at the center—A newly minted Spirit Douluo, but radiating the presence of a Demon King.
Inside his spirit sea, Dugu Bo stared in awe.
Manchineel perched atop the Hydra's central head, grinning like a proud artist. The other eight heads nuzzled him affectionately, their eyes gleaming with newfound intelligence.
"Bo!" Manchineel called, giggling. "Do you like my improvements?"
Dugu Bo exhaled shakily.
"Jade Phosphor… Hydra," he murmured. "No need for titles like 'Emperor' anymore. Hydras are beings of myth. For two to exist at once…" He met Manchineel's gaze. "This is nothing short of divine intervention."
Manchineel beamed.
No more loneliness.
No more endless, suffocating solitude.
But before Dugu Bo could savor the moment—the swamp itself rebelled.
The colossal tree—Manchineel's true body—began to crumble, its roots dissolving into emerald mist, surging into Dugu Bo's spirit soul.
The disappearance of the swamp's guardian sent shockwaves across the Core Region.
From every direction—a tide of enraged spirit beasts surged toward them.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
A roaring, unstoppable avalanche of fangs and fury.
Dugu Bo's eyes sharpened.
"Now…" he whispered, his voice thick with power, "I can finally save my son."
Among the vast tide of spirit beasts surging toward them, two figures radiated a pressure far beyond the others — both were 100,000-year-old spirit beasts.
Seeing them, Dugu Bo stepped forward, his expression calm, his heart steady.
"Xin'er," he said, without looking back, "stay where you are."
He raised his hand.
The seventh ring blazed with radiant light.
Summon Spirit Entity — Jade Phosphor Hydra!
A colossal nine-headed Hydra materialized behind him, its heads writhing, its scales glistening with toxic light.
The sheer suppression radiating from Dugu Bo — a Spirit Douluo in name but carrying what felt like the might of gods — froze countless spirit beasts where they stood.
Even the fearless ones hesitated.
Only the two 100,000-year-old spirit beasts continued forward, their expressions wary.
One was a Queen Dragon Wasp, its body nearly a meter long, with three pairs of crystalline wings that shimmered blood-red and white. Its exoskeleton, covered in deadly diamond-patterned armor, gleamed under the swamp's faint light — a living embodiment of lethal poison.
The other was a Three-Tailed Nether Toad, a massive amphibian whose cold golden eyes gleamed with malevolent cunning. Each twitch of its tails stirred the poisonous miasma around them.
The Wasp narrowed its multifaceted eyes, feeling the crushing weight pressing down on it.
"Suppression... of this level, from a mere Spirit Douluo," she hissed in disbelief. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was standing before the Old Tree himself."
The Toad croaked deeply, staring intently at Dugu Bo's spirit rings.
"Wait... look at that spirit ring," the Toad rumbled. "The one above the others... that aura — that's Old Tree."
Recognition struck them like lightning.
Old Tree — Manchineel — the mightiest ancient spirit beast of the Core Region.
And now... his aura lingered atop a human's spirit ring.
Their gazes swept over Dugu Bo again, taking in the seven crimson spirit rings spinning with terrifying gravity.
"So Old Tree was killed... by a human? A Spirit Douluo at that?"
The Queen Wasp's voice trembled, a mixture of fear and reluctant respect.
From the evidence before their eyes — the evolved rings, the overwhelming suppression — it seemed this human had slaughtered spirit beasts of 100,000 years like stepping over ants.
Their arrogance faltered.
Their bloodlust cooled.
They began to reassess the situation, shifting into a cautious, defensive posture. In spirit beast society, strength was everything — and they could sense the gap between them and this human was far too vast.