Dugu Bo's voice carried through the hall like a steady drumbeat — calm, precise, and brimming with authority.
"Not all Spirits are created equal," he began, his gaze sweeping across the assembled clans. "But every Spirit has the potential to be powerful... if you understand how to shape it."
He paused for effect, allowing the weight of his words to settle in.
"You must focus on the traits you want to strengthen — not just the Spirit itself, but what it can become."
He gestured with one hand, slow and deliberate.
"Take Blue Silver Grass, for example. A tool Spirit. Weak in the early stages, often dismissed." His tone didn't change, but there was something sharp behind it — a quiet scolding of past assumptions.
"In the beginning, its weak, easily ripped and broken. So, the first priority is resilience. Make the grass tougher. Stronger. Flexible, but hard to tear."
Dugu Bo's eyes glinted with insight.
"That means going the control system route — shaping the Spirit into something that can bind your enemies. Like a serpent." He made a subtle, coiling motion with his fingers. "So if you bonded it with a snake-type Spirit Beast — one known for powerful constriction — the grass would inherit that trait. It would become something deadly. Something feared."
From the side, Xin blinked — staring at his father with awe, as if seeing him with new eyes.
He just described Tang San's path almost perfectly, Xin thought. The way he developed Blue Silver Grass into a weapon of control and strength. And he did it without ever having read that tale... he just knew.*
It sent a chill of admiration down Xin's spine. His father wasn't just powerful — he understood cultivation on a fundamental level.
Then, Dugu Bo turned, addressing the room again, and his tone shifted slightly — moving from teaching to proclamation.
"Now, let us talk about the future — the path you will follow."
The room grew still, every clan head and core disciple listening with rapt attention.
"The current optimal spirit ring formation is this: two 100-year rings, two 1,000-year rings, and five 10,000-year rings." He nodded slowly. "This setup allows for rapid early cultivation and safe progression."
There were subtle nods among the Elders — this was known, accepted wisdom. But Dugu Bo wasn't finished.
"However..." His eyes narrowed slightly, voice growing deeper. "If you manage to obtain a 100,000-year Spirit Ring — and survive the fusion — your power will outstrip all your peers. Your very presence will shift."
He paused, then offered a sharp, thin smile.
"And we — the Dugu Clan — have a way to guarantee the acquisition of such rings."
Through the hall the tone quickly stifled into breathless silence. Even the hardened faces of the subsidiary clan leaders twitched, still barely containing their disbelief.
Then his voice rang out, firm and resolute.
"for the collateral lines and subordinate clans, there will be standardization. Every member who undergoes Foundation Reforging will follow this structure: two 1,000-year rings, five 10,000-year rings, and two 100,000-year rings."
Gasps turned to stunned silence.
Then came tears.
Several of the clan heads bowed their heads, unable to stop the tears that welled in their eyes. Elders from the Xiong Clan, Zhong Clan, even the reclusive Cike Clan — each had suffered under limitations, under second-class treatment. But this… this was more than a chance. It was redemption.
Though not equal to the main line, it was better — far better than anything they had ever been offered before.
And none dared to speak against it.
There was no resentment. Only gratitude.
Because they understood something clearly now: This was investment.
They were no longer being tolerated. They were being nurtured.
In Moonveil Marshes the 1,000- year and 10,000-year Spirit Beasts as common as weeds. And 100,000-year beasts, there were neither rare nor common at least — not in this territory.
It was the beasts of 200,000 years and above that were truly rare.
Dugu Bo's voice, calm but edged with quiet amusement, rang clearly across the Main Hall:
"None above the Spirit Master level are to begin the Spirit Ring Destruction process yet," he declared.
A ripple of murmured confusion ran through the crowd — quickly silenced by the weight of his authority.
Bo's smirk widened slightly, almost playful in its menace.
"A Titled Douluo is required to stabilize the soul during that process. Without one, attempting it is nothing short of suicide."
He folded his hands neatly behind his back, his jade robes rustling softly.
"Thus, all Grandmasters and above must wait until First Brother and Second Brother achieve their breakthroughs."
The smirk deepened as he spoke those words.
The Dugu Clan's distribution of power was peculiar: outside of the main bloodline, no one had reached Rank 71 or higher.
Cike Kuan and Xiong Wei stood slightly above the rest — Spirit Emperors of formidable talent — but every other subordinate was trapped below Rank 54.
It wasn't a pressing problem yet.
But Bo knew — in the years to come, it would be a shackle around their necks if not dealt with properly.
For a long time, he had no solution.
No way to bridge that gap without risking the future of the clan.
Until Xin.
Until Xin suggested something that, once, would have been deemed barbaric — too cruel, too extreme.
But now...
Now it was seen for what it truly was: a necessary step.
A painful inconvenience.
And pain was just weakness leaving the body — quite literally.
Bo's smirk faded into a thoughtful stillness.
Inside his Spirit Sea, a different conversation was unfolding — one even more important.
Manchineel — the ancient Spirit Beast now fused with him — sat cross-legged atop a shifting, poisonous mist, his ethereal body coiled in thought. His luminous eyes peered curiously at Bo's transformed Spirit Rings, now all shining with the overwhelming power of 100,000-years.
As he studied their new abilities, a flicker of realization sparked.
Bo, Manchineel's voice rumbled across the vast mental space, a whisper like the rustle of leaves in a storm.
There are three Million-Year-old Spirit Beasts in the region.
Bo's spirit projection looked up sharply.
One resides deep within Doku Swamp — the beast king trapped in sanctuary. Another roams the forest where your Grand Expedition will soon take place. And the last... slumbers inside a volcano at the edge of the Stoneveil Barrens.
Manchineel paused, letting that information settle.
Then he continued, voice darkening slightly:
Over the centuries, many Spirit Beasts have survived ten Heavenly Tribulations across Aurellan. Some have even entered pacts with various noble families.
Bo's gaze sharpened. He knew pacts existed — blood-oaths between beast and human — but to hear there were many survivors at that level... it was staggering.
But Manchineel wasn't finished.
Far off the eastern coast of the island... he said slowly,
the sea is teeming with Spirit Beasts. 100,000-year-old beasts become as countless as the clouds the farther east you go.
Images flashed through Bo's mind: vast shoals of monstrous beings, creatures of the deep that made even Titled Douluo tread carefully.
However, Manchineel's voice became grim,
the ocean is a place so vast, so unfathomable, that to challenge it blindly...
A flash of darkness, a vision of ships swallowed whole by endless waves.
...is to invite death itself.
For a long moment, Bo sat quietly within his Spirit Sea, contemplating.
Three Million-Year Spirit Beasts on land.
A sea filled with 100,000-year beasts.
The resources were there — if they were bold enough.
Strong enough.
And ruthless enough to reach out and take them.
When Bo opened his eyes again in the waking world, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.
"Thats it for now, everyone continue to prepare for the upcoming expedition." With that everyone got up bowed to the clan leader then returned to their respective courtyards.
Xin stood quietly at the edge of the Main Hall, his sharp gaze softening as he watched his new siblings — the children Dugu Bo had only recently acknowledged and brought into the heart of the clan.
They were still young, still innocent, pulled into the swirling currents of the Dugu Clan's future without ever having had a choice.
They're not like me, Xin thought. I chose this path out of necessity. But they… they are simply here because of a decision I made.
And though Xin had been forged by hardship into steel, he understood something deeply, instinctively:
If these children were to stand with him in the trials to come, they needed more than orders.
They needed to become family.
Straightening, Xin called out, his voice calm but clear enough to cut through the lingering conversations:
"Second, Third, and Fourth Brothers," he said. His lips twitched into a faint smile, warm but reserved. "First and Second Sister. Come with me to my courtyard."
For a moment, the children blinked, startled — glancing uncertainly at each other.
The First Young Master had barely spoken to them since their arrival. He was a distant figure — respected, feared even — but not someone they ever dared approach casually.
Yet now, invited so openly, their confusion quickly gave way to excitement.
Little smiles broke out among them as they scrambled to fall into line behind Xin.
Their chatter, once timid, blossomed into eager whispers as they walked through the polished stone pathways of the estate.
The vast Dugu grounds stretched around them — orderly gardens, meditation halls, training courts — but Xin's path led them deeper, past even the clan's inner sanctuaries.
At last, they arrived at an enormous ironwood gate carved with ancient serpentine patterns.
Above it, a plaque bore the characters for "Yongheng" — Eternity.
Xin pushed the gate open with a casual ease, and together they stepped into his private domain.
The first thing the younger siblings noticed was the sheer size of it.
The courtyard sprawled like a small fortress, second in grandeur only to the Clan Leader's own. Massive stone walkways, sprawling gardens, and elegant pavilions lay, arranged in harmonious balance.
Their mouths fell open slightly, eyes widening in disbelief.
Many of them had grown up in tiny, cramped homes — some in commoner districts, some barely scraping by. This level of luxury was staggering. Overwhelming.
But that was only the beginning.
As they passed deeper into the courtyard, they entered a vast inner garden — and here, the true wealth of Yongheng Courtyard was revealed.
Rows upon rows of rare herbs and flowers grew in meticulously arranged plots, their fragrance rich and complex in the warm air. Some plants shimmered faintly with spirit light, others pulsed with the subtle pressure of deep cultivation.
Several herbs easily bore signs of 1,000 years of growth — and scattered among them were plants whose age approached 10,000 years.
The younger siblings stopped dead in their tracks, unable to take another step.
Their hearts hammered in their chests.
Their hands trembled slightly at their sides.
The sheer wealth before them — the kind of wealth that could buy cities, that could found kingdoms — hurt their eyes.
It was almost too much to take in.
Gho, trailing a little behind the group, couldn't help but smile to himself. 'As expected of big brother'
Xin turned back toward them, his hands clasped behind his back, watching their reactions carefully.
He saw their awe, their confusion, their disbelief.
Xin led his younger siblings through the sprawling courtyard, their footsteps light on the polished stone pathways.
The group wound their way toward the center, where the natural heart of Yongheng Courtyard revealed itself — a graceful, glistening irrigation creek that cut through the grounds, flowing from the western gate to the eastern perimeter like a silver ribbon.
At the creek's bank, they came upon a sight even more breathtaking:
A towering Milk Mangrove Tree, its thick roots sprawling into the rich, dark soil, its massive crown of pale green leaves shimmering faintly under the spirit light.
The aura it gave off was gentle but potent — filled with the nurturing energy of life and growth.
The children stared in awe.
All of them had barely begun cultivating and yet they could instinctively feel the age and power emanating from the ancient tree.
Xin glanced at the tree with quiet satisfaction.
Thirty thousand years old, he thought. Strong enough to heal, to fortify, to protect.
Without a word, he guided his siblings beneath its broad branches to a marble pavilion nearby — a structure of flowing curves and open arches, perfectly positioned to catch the soothing sounds of the water and the scent of the spirit herbs drifting from the gardens.
A servant, efficient and discreet, appeared moments later, setting down trays of tea, delicate pastries, and preserved fruits.
The table filled with dishes that were, Xin thought privately, astonishingly good — even compared to the culinary arts he remembered from his past life.
The food culture of this world… is truly not to be underestimated, Xin mused with a faint smile as he poured himself a cup of fragrant tea.
The younger siblings hesitated at first, unsure if they were truly allowed to partake.
But Xin gave a small, encouraging nod, and they eagerly — if a little shyly — helped themselves to the refreshments.
For a few minutes, the mood was light.
There was laughter, small, nervous at first, but real. They sipped tea, nibbled pastries, and for the first time since arriving at the Dugu estate, the younger children began to relax.
Then Xin set his cup down and leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows lightly on the table.
He studied each of them in turn — Second Brother, Third Brother, Fourth Brother, First Sister, and Second Sister — noting the way their faces brightened, the way their eyes met his now with something almost like trust.
It was the right time.
"I want to know about your childhoods," Xin said, voice even, not commanding but genuinely curious.
"Tell me what your lives were like before coming here."
The children exchanged hesitant glances.
They weren't sure what he wanted — or what he would think of their humble, often painful stories.
But when they saw the quiet patience in Xin's eyes — no judgment, no coldness — they began, one by one, to speak.
Stories emerged.