The moment Dugu Bo's spirit rings blazed to life, a corona of crimson light erupted around him, causing the very air to tremble under their overwhelming pressure. Across the murky swamp, two ancient Spirit Beasts—Lang Liu, the Queen Dragon Wasp, and Zhang Ushi, the 3-Tailed Nether Toad—felt an instinct older than time itself awaken within them. Their initial wariness shattered like brittle glass, replaced by stunned reverence that rooted them to the spot.
To beings who had endured for hundreds of thousands of years, Dugu Bo was no longer merely human. He was a legend made flesh—a once-in-ten-millennia prodigy who had transcended the boundary between man and Spirit Beast, standing at the threshold of godhood itself.
Before they could fully process the enormity of his presence, Dugu Bo's voice cut through the silence—calm, yet carrying the weight of undeniable truth.
"He isn't dead."
And then—Manchineel appeared.
Like mist coalescing into form, the 1,000,000-year-old Spirit Beast materialized atop Dugu Bo's shoulders. His delicate frame radiated an ancient, suffocating pressure that made even the swamp water recoil. The petulant child they had seen earlier was gone. In his place stood an entity whose golden eyes held the wisdom of eons, his serene smile belying the terrifying power beneath.
"Young Liu. Young Ushi." His voice was soft, yet it resonated in their very souls like a struck chime.
The two Spirit Beasts staggered back, their massive forms disturbing the murky waters.
"How—?!" Lang Liu hissed, her venomous mandibles twitching in agitation.
"You… fused with a human?!" Zhang Ushi rumbled, his mountainous shell creaking in disbelief.
Manchineel chuckled, gliding forward until his ethereal glow bathed the swamp in an otherworldly light. "I am his Spirit Soul now," he declared, his voice steady and inescapable. "Our cultivation is one. No longer must I wither in this decaying swamp, waiting for the heavens to claim me. Now, I thrive within his Spirit Sea—and in return, I have awakened the true power slumbering within him."
The light in his eyes dimmed, his expression darkening with solemnity.
"Ever since the Spirit Hall sealed the Sanctuary, this land has been dying," he murmured, his whisper carrying the weight of thunder. "Fewer of us reach 100,000 years. Those who do… rarely survive their Heavenly Tribulations." His gaze sharpened, piercing through them like a blade. "Young Liu—your 300,000-year trial looms. Do you truly believe you will endure it? And Young Ushi… yours, at 400,000 years, will be far crueler. Without change… you will perish."
The beasts bowed their heads, the crushing truth pressing down on them.
Then, Manchineel turned slightly, his golden eyes settling on Xin, who stood silently beside Dugu Bo. A silent understanding passed between them—a recognition of something deeper, something fate itself had woven into their destinies.
"Why not bond with Little Xin?" Manchineel's voice turned persuasive, smooth as silk yet unyielding as steel. "When Dugu Bo reaches Rank 99, my power will smooth his path to Godhood. Imagine—you could be part of that ascent. Instead of crumbling beneath Heaven's wrath… you could help forge a God."
The swamp fell deathly still, as if the world itself held its breath.
His words were not merely an offer—they were a lifeline, cast by one who had already defied the heavens.
The Queen Dragon Wasp, her massive wings humming with restrained power, hesitated. Her golden eyes burned with pride, caution, and something deeper—a flicker of desperate longing.
"That would mean entrusting our lives… to a child," she said at last, her voice sharp yet trembling beneath the weight of the decision. "It is a risk far greater than any we have taken."
Manchineel's expression softened with sorrow, but his resolve did not waver.
"But if you refuse," he murmured, "death is your only fate. Your Heavenly Tribulation will come, and it will tear your very soul asunder. No one will save you then."
There was no malice in his words—only the unvarnished truth.
The Queen Dragon Wasp's wings thrummed, her colossal form casting rippling shadows over the swamp. Every instinct screamed at her to flee—yet centuries of wisdom anchored her in place.
Slowly, deliberately, she drifted toward Xin, her golden gaze boring into him like twin suns.
"Little one," her voice pierced his mind, sharp as a blade, "my power is not gentle. My essence will crush you like an ant beneath a mountain. Think carefully before you answer."
Though her words seemed cruel, they carried a hidden test—a trial of will.
Xin raised his head, his youthful face pale but unshaken. His voice was quiet, yet it carried the steel of a soul tempered by suffering.
"I'm already dying," he said, his small fists clenching. "The poison inside me will kill me long before I ever get to truly live. If I have nothing to lose… why should I fear the pain?"
For the first time in centuries, the Queen Dragon Wasp faltered. In those bright, unwavering eyes, she saw no fear—only defiance, an unbreakable will that burned like an undying flame.
At that moment, Dugu Bo stepped forward, his towering presence a bastion of strength behind Xin. His hand settled firmly on the boy's shoulder.
"I will lend him my strength," Dugu Bo declared, his voice immovable as the earth itself. "I will help him bear the burden."
The Queen Dragon Wasp exhaled—a sound like wind through ancient trees. Then, with a final, lingering gaze at Xin, she relented.
Her mighty wings spread wide as she floated closer, her golden aura intensifying. Manchineel moved alongside her, his voice solemn as he guided the sacred ritual.
"First," he intoned, "bestow your Spirit Bone."
The Queen Dragon Wasp lowered her massive head. From the center of her brow, a blinding golden radiance erupted, coalescing into an exquisite Skull Bone, its surface etched with intricate, pulsing veins of spirit energy.
As the Spirit Bone descended toward Xin, the very air warped around it.
The moment it touched him—agony.
Xin's body arched violently, his teeth sinking into his lip until blood welled. His veins bulged, his skin flushing crimson as the overwhelming power surged through him. A soul-rending scream tore from his throat, raw and primal, yet he did not fall.
His left eye underwent a terrifying transformation—the iris shifting into a shimmering, divine platinum hue, its pupil slitting like that of a dragon.
The pain was unbearable, yet Xin endured, his will forged in the crucible of suffering.
And then—a crimson spirit ring, deep as blood and thrumming with majestic energy, materialized behind him.
When the light faded, the sickly boy was gone.
Xin stood taller, his complexion clear, his skin glowing with newfound vitality. The Queen Dragon Wasp's spirit power had scoured the toxins from his body, purifying him in ways no medicine ever could.
Inside his Spirit Sea, the Queen Dragon Wasp opened her ethereal eyes, surveying her new domain. The Glacial Phosphor Serpent rested amidst the spiritual tides, watching her with wary respect.
But then—her gaze locked onto something else.
A colossal cauldron, ancient beyond reckoning, floated in the depths of Xin's Spirit Sea. Its surface was covered in pulsing runes, each exuding a dense, immeasurable power that made even her—a 300,000-year-old Spirit Beast—shiver in instinctive dread.
"What… is that?" she whispered, her voice trembling for the first time in millennia.
And deep within the abyss of Xin's soul… something stirred.
Xin raised his left hand, and with a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the earth itself, the Bronze Cauldron materialized before him. It hovered solemnly, its massive form radiating an aura of ageless mystery.
Throughout history, the cauldron had been a symbol of creation, transformation, and the sacred forces of the Divine Feminine—a vessel where raw elements were blended into alchemical wonders. It was the tool of witches and goddesses, emblematic of the endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth.
Xin's heart pounded as he placed his hand against its cool, ancient surface. The metal thrummed beneath his touch, whispering of forgotten arts and untapped power.
[Tool Spirit: Bronze Cauldron]
Spirit Rings: None
Description: The Bronze Cauldron is a Tool Spirit that manifests as a four-legged, two-eared vessel, roughly three meters in diameter. It boasts offensive, defensive, and supportive capabilities, the nature and strength of which are determined by the Spirit Rings bonded to it. The Cauldron grows stronger alongside the Spirit Master's cultivation and with each additional spirit ring.
A fierce spark of ambition ignited in Xin's chest.
"In this world, Blacksmiths are the only craftsmen truly respected among Spirit Masters… but what if that could change? What if Alchemy, real Alchemy, could rise again?"
A frustrated laugh escaped him as he grinned. "Twin Spirits, huh? Why didn't this show up during my awakening ceremony?"
Manchineel chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "Well, this certainly changes things. Young Ushi—you can bond with this Spirit. I'm not entirely sure what will happen… but that's the beauty of the unknown, isn't it?"
Zhang Ushi, the 3-Tailed Nether Toad, gave a low croak and waddled forward. One of his thick tails reached out, touching Xin's outstretched hand—and the sacred bonding ritual began anew.
Fire seared through Xin's veins, his body convulsing as another Spirit Bone fused with him—this time, a Chest Bone. Unlike his father, who had endured such torment countless times, Xin's young body was ill-prepared for the agony. Yet he gritted his teeth, refusing to yield.
A dark brand—the likeness of the 3-Tailed Nether Toad—burned itself into his lower back, marking their eternal bond. Spirit energy, vast and ancient, flooded his being, reshaping his very foundation.
And then—it was done.
A six-year-old Spirit Master now stood before them, wielding two spirits, each adorned with spirit rings harvested from beasts that had lived for hundreds of thousands of years.
Against all odds, Xin had defied fate.
But his body, pushed beyond its limits, finally gave out. He collapsed, the world fading to black.
Dugu Bo caught him before he hit the ground, cradling his son with rare tenderness. As he carried Xin back to the waiting carriage, his gaze was heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Inside the carriage, as the wheels rumbled homeward, Xin stirred. His clothes were drenched in sweat, his body exhausted—but his eyes burned with determination.
Dugu Bo watched him solemnly. "Until you reach Titled Douluo," he warned, "you must keep your spirit rings hidden. Many would covet your gifts—or seek to destroy you out of fear."
His voice darkened. "We must gather allies. Alone, we are vulnerable. The Spirit Hall could challenge the entire continent if it desired. If war comes—and it will—we will be dragged into it."
Xin reached into his robes and pressed a worn scroll into his father's hands.
"Inside," he rasped, "is a list of people we'll need to survive what's coming."
Dugu Bo unfurled the scroll, scanning the names. A rare smile touched his lips.
"My son," he murmured, "you are more prepared than I dared hope."
As the carriage rolled onward, carrying them toward an uncertain future, the seeds of revolution had already been sown—seeds that would one day shake the world to its core.