As they neared the outer perimeter of the Main Courtyard, Xin finally allowed his pace to slow. The towering walls of green jade and black stone loomed around them, casting long, cool shadows over the polished pathways that gleamed like still water under the midday sun.
Turning his head slightly, Xin glanced down at the boy hustling to keep up beside him. Gho, as he clutched a thick book tightly to his chest, his glasses once again slipping precariously close to the tip of his nose.
Xin's voice, when it came, was calm and low — but there was a subtle invitation threaded through it, a rare softness that might have been missed by anyone less attuned to him.
"If you're confused about anything," Xin said, his expression as unreadable as always, "just ask."
Gho stumbled mid-step, caught off guard by the sudden offer. His mouth opened, then closed again, a flash of panic passing over his face. His mind raced — after all, to question anything in the presence of the First Young Master was not something he had ever believed himself permitted to do.
But Xin's gaze remained steady, patient. Reassuring, in its own quiet way.
Encouraged by that silent support, Gho fumbled with his book before finally speaking, his voice small but earnest.
"...Big Brother," he said hesitantly, "why do you care so much about rare metals and... and blacksmiths? I thought..." He faltered, flushing with embarrassment. "I thought only Spirit Power mattered. That training and battle strength were everything."
The words spilled out clumsily, and Gho immediately looked down at the ground, heart hammering in dread. He waited for a reprimand.
But none came.
Instead, a faint, fleeting smile brushed across Xin's lips — so brief that Gho might have thought he imagined it, if not for the warmth it left behind.
Xin folded his hands behind his back, resuming their walk with a measured pace. His voice, when he spoke again, was as if he were explaining something fundamental not just to Gho, but to the world itself.
"Spirit Power is the foundation," Xin said, his tone even, his words deliberate.
Gho looked up at him, wide-eyed, glasses askew.
"Our enemies are powerful," Xin continued, each word deliberate. "The other Great Noble Houses have Titled Douluo. We — for now — do not. If we rely only on force of arms, we are at a disadvantage."
He glanced down at Gho again, eyes sharp yet kind.
"We must create new advantages. Tools. Weapons. Materials. Things no one else on Aurellan possesses. If we cannot defeat them with raw strength..."
A glimmer of something fierce lit Xin's eyes.
"...then we will outthink them. Outbuild them. Outlast them."
Gho swallowed, feeling something shift inside him — a door opening onto a path he had never known existed.
He nodded quickly, clutching his book tighter, no longer out of fear but from a sudden, urgent desire to understand.
Xin said nothing more, letting the weight of his words sink deep.
Ahead, the grand gates of Dugu Bo's Serpent Courtyard loomed, massive and imposing, flanked by Spirit Grandmasters clad in deep green armor. The very air grew heavy, thick with the barely contained pressure of Spirit Power, like the electricity before a storm.
Servants, sensing the approach of their master's heirs, bowed low and scurried aside, pushing open the enormous doors without a word.
Inside, the Courtyard was a world unto itself.
Polished stone pathways wound through intricate gardens where jade serpents coiled around ancient trees, their carved eyes glinting under soft spirit-light that drifted like mist across the grounds.
Xin moved like a ghost along the path, silent, unhesitating. Gho hurried after him, small feet tapping rapidly against the stone.
At the heart of the Courtyard stood the Main Hall — tall, severe, and crowned with a sloping jade roof. Xin reached its doors, pushed them open without ceremony, and stepped inside.
The moment they entered, the air changed — thickened into something tangible, almost viscous.
There, atop a raised platform of black marble, sat Dugu Bo — their father.
Dressed in plain white robes, absent his usual court finery, he still exuded a presence so commanding that even simplicity seemed regal on him.
Around him, eight Spirit Rings floated in slow, perfect orbit, each one humming with terrifying energy.
The pressure was overwhelming, like standing at the bottom of the ocean where even breathing felt like a defiance.
Xin instinctively drew upon his own Spirit Power, creating a thin but resilient shield that wrapped protectively around both himself and Gho.
Gho gasped, clutching at Xin's sleeve, his gaze locked onto the man on the platform.
He had seen his father from afar countless times — a looming figure at ceremonies, a silent force at clan councils. But never like this.
Here, in the raw, the power was alive. It vibrated in the walls, stirred the ancient murals of serpents and ancestral heroes, made the very ground tremble in reverence.
Xin, understanding the gravity of the moment, led Gho to a respectful distance from the platform and lowered himself into a kneeling position. His shield held firm, a calm dome of protection against the crushing aura.
Time became a strange thing — stretching, folding in on itself — as they waited.
The pressure around them ebbed and flowed like a living tide, sharp one moment, heavy the next.
Gho, despite Xin's shield, was sweating — thin beads forming at his brow — but he gritted his teeth and bore it, unwilling to shame himself before his brother or father.
Then, without warning —
BOOM!
A shockwave of Spirit Power erupted outward, hammering the stones of the Courtyard and making the high ceilings quake.
Xin reacted instantly, reinforcing the shield, anchoring them both to the ground with a surge of Spirit Power. Even so, a fine crack spidered across the polished floor beneath their feet.
In the eye of the storm, Dugu Bo's Spirit Power flared into brilliance — a tempest of green-gold mist that roared and coiled around him.
The Spirit Rings rotated faster, colors deepening to something fierce and unnatural.
At the center of them all, the eighth ring shone like a star — crystalline, breathtaking, and unmistakable.
Manchineel's Ring.
Its presence alone distorted the air, bent the light around it.
Then, almost imperceptibly, a new ripple swept the room.
[System Notice:]
[Dugu Bo Breakthrough Detected: Rank 84 Spirit Douluo.]
[Spirit Energy Density: 980% above standard.]
[Due to possession of Seven 100,000-Year Rings + One 1,000,000-Year Ring, Spirit Power Output exceeds threshold by Tenfold.]
[Warning: Prolonged exposure may cause damage to Spirit Grandmasters and below.]
Xin grimaced but remained firm, holding Gho behind him protectively.
So this is Father's true power, Xin thought, a fierce and calculating light sparking behind his composed face. Even Rank 94 Titled Douluo would be flattened before him like insects. His strength isn't just vast — it's monstrous.
Beside him, Gho could only stare, trembling, as if he were witnessing the awakening of a living god.
Slowly, the tidal surge of power began to condense.
The mists tightened, spiraled inward, drawn back into Dugu Bo's core like rivers returning to their source.
The Spirit Rings slowed, resuming their majestic orbit, each rotation stirring subtle ripples through the heavy air.
Finally, with a sound like the hush of a distant storm ending, Dugu Bo opened his eyes.
They were sharp, narrow, molten jade — cutting and cold — yet when they fell on the two kneeling boys, a flicker of something warmer stirred behind the severe gaze.
"You have come," he said, voice deep enough to rattle the bones.
Xin released the protective shield. The air, though still thick with residual Spirit Power, was breathable once more.
He rose smoothly to his feet, despite the slight trembling of his muscles from holding the shield for so long. Clasping his hands in front of him, he bowed low, the picture of perfect noble decorum.
Beside him, poor Gho struggled valiantly to rise — but his body betrayed him. He sank awkwardly to his knees, red-faced and frustrated.
For a long heartbeat, Dugu Bo regarded him in silence. Then —
He smiled.
Moving with a grace that defied the heavy atmosphere, Dugu Bo descended from the platform. His white robes whispered against the stone.
Without a word, he lifted Gho gently into his arms — a touch so careful it belied the monstrous strength contained within.
Gho froze, scarcely daring to breathe.
Carrying him across the hall, Dugu Bo deposited him on a chaise lined with dark green velvet, adjusting the boy's posture so he could sit comfortably. Only then did he turn his piercing gaze back to Xin.
"The Blacksmiths," Dugu Bo said, voice low and rumbling with satisfaction, "have created something... remarkable."
He began to pace slowly, arms folded behind his back, each step measured.
Xin straightened, heart steady beneath the pressure of expectation.
"It is not perfect yet," Dugu Bo continued, "but what you have driven them to create — it is the beginning of something that may shake the very foundations of Aurellan."
He stopped, facing Xin fully now.
"You saw farther than even I did," he said, voice laden with weight.
The air seemed to pulse with meaning.
Xin bowed his head slightly.
From afar, Gho gazed at him with new eyes, admiration and awe mixing in his young heart.
Dugu Bo smiled thinly, the glint of a serpent in his eyes.
"So tell me, Xin," he said, voice curling through the hall like smoke.
"What is it you seek next?"
Xin allowed a small, genuine smile to break across his usually composed features as he met his father's gaze.
"So," he said lightly, "you have been keeping an eye on the Blacksmiths."
Dugu Bo let out a low hum of amusement, a rare glint of mischief flashing through his jade-green eyes.
"Of course," he said without the slightest trace of embarrassment. "I was... curious about what you were up to. When I heard you were planning an inspection, I decided to take a little peek before you arrived."
The casual way he said it, without even a hint of guilt despite having spied on his own son's project, made Xin chuckle under his breath.
"Haha..." Xin shook his head, the sound almost fond. "What they showed you was just a prototype. A first step."
He straightened a little, the weight of what he was about to say sharpening his voice.
"I've already given them a new formula," he said. "A complete breakdown of how to forge Spirit Steel."
He lifted his eyes expectantly, fully prepared for the inevitable question — How do you know how to create Spirit Steel?
But that question never came.
Dugu Bo's reaction was not suspicion, nor interrogation. Only a nod — slow, deliberate, approving.
"Good," he said simply, as if Xin's achievement were as natural as breathing. "Then we will need to assign people to watch them closely."
He turned slightly, his robes whispering against the polished stone as he paced.
"Knowledge like that," he continued, his voice deepening, "cannot be allowed to leak. Not even to our so-called allies."
His tone made it clear: in the eyes of Dugu Bo, in matters of power, there were no true allies — only tools, obstacles, and threats.
Xin's smile faded into something more serious, the fire of ambition sparking quietly behind his calm demeanor.
He nodded once, firmly.
"I've already made arrangements," he said.
Dugu Bo's lips curved into something between a smile and a smirk — a rare expression of genuine pride.
"Very good," he murmured, voice thick with approval. "You truly are my son."
Xin's gaze sharpened, the lingering warmth between father and son giving way to focus —Xin continued, pacing now, his hands folded behind his back, "we need to start challenging the current beliefs about Spirit cultivation."
He stopped and turned to face his father fully, the light catching the sharp lines of his young face.
"Not to tear them down," he said, "but to show that the way things have been done for generations... is incomplete."
Dugu Bo's lips twitched into something almost like a smirk — faint approval hidden behind amused curiosity.
"Flawed, but not entirely wrong," Xin said, echoing his own thoughts aloud. "There's room to improve — to evolve. We need to plant that idea into the minds of the people. Slowly. Carefully. If we smash their beliefs outright, they'll resist out of fear. But if we guide them..."
He lifted a hand, making a slow gesture — as if coaxing a stubborn snake from its burrow.
"...they'll follow willingly into a new era."
Dugu Bo gave a short, low laugh — more a rumble of satisfaction than amusement.
He studied Xin for a long, heavy moment, the weight of expectation thick between them.
"Good," Dugu Bo said at last. His voice was quieter now, but somehow even more powerful.
Xin's mind was already racing ahead, the pieces beginning to arrange themselves like a battle formation on an invisible board.
"Aunt Meiying has already told me about a clan," he said, his voice steady, his eyes gleaming faintly with hidden excitement. "They possess Spirit Diamond Glasses — a Tool Spirit specialized for precise inspection and analysis."
Dugu Bo's brow lifted slightly, an unmistakable glimmer of interest lighting his sharp gaze.
"They would be perfect for our needs," Xin continued, "able to see the impurities in metals, assess Spirit Beast cores, even judge the quality of rare herbs at a glance."
He paused, letting the importance of that settle between them. Then, shaking his head slightly, he added:
"But we shouldn't limit ourselves to only that one spirit."
Xin paced a slow, thoughtful circle before turning back to face his father fully.
"We need every kind of spirit that gathers information — not just Spirit Diamond Glasses. Spirits that sense energy flows. Spirits that map terrains. Spirits that detect poisons, track creatures, analyze growth patterns."
His voice grew stronger with each word, confidence building in him like a rising tide.
"Anything that sees, hears, smells, senses beyond the ordinary — anything that reads the world better than others — those people are the foundation we must build upon."
Dugu Bo's expression shifted — the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, a hidden smile that spoke volumes. Pride. Approval. A glint of something even sharper: ambition.
Xin allowed himself a small smile but said nothing, already deep in thought.
Dugu Bo moved toward the great serpent-carved pillars that flanked the hall, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
"We'll begin quiet negotiations immediately," he said. "Discreetly. Carefully. Some clans will join if we offer them protection... others will need to be bought or frightened."
He glanced over his shoulder at Xin, his jade-green eyes sharp as blades.
"And some," he said dryly, "may need to be crushed first."
Xin met his gaze without flinching.
"We'll take the wise ones into the fold," he said quietly. "And remove the obstacles before they realize they are obstacles."
Dugu Bo's voice cut through the air, low and commanding.
"Kuan," he said, without needing to raise his voice.
From the shadowed edges of the hall, a figure appeared almost instantly — silent, bowing deeply.
"Yes, my lord," came the crisp, respectful reply.
Xin recognized Kuan at once. If he was present, then the plans were already moving faster than words could catch.
Without turning, Dugu Bo spoke again, calm and absolute.
"Do as we have discussed."
Kuan bowed even lower.
"As you command."
And then — without a sound, without even a whisper of displaced air — Kuan vanished into the shadows once more, as if he had never been there.