The hall fell silent.Everyone stared at Qian Ye in disbelief — even Golden Crocodile Douluo's seasoned composure faltered.
Back then, even Qian Daoliu had taken three full days after becoming a Soul Master to shatter this very same boulder.But Qian Ye… had done it in one.
Golden Crocodile Douluo's face lit with unrestrained excitement. He grasped Qian Ye's shoulders and exclaimed,"Wonderful! Little Ye, you've given me a tremendous surprise!"
His deep laughter echoed through the hall. "Your talent surpasses even your father's — surpasses everyone in Spirit Hall! You carry the potential to become a Title Douluo!"
Qian Ye lowered his gaze slightly, concealing the faint, cold smile that tugged at his lips. Potential? No, he thought. I will go further than any of you can imagine.
Golden Crocodile Douluo's admiration was genuine. He had seen countless prodigies across decades, but never one like this — not just gifted, but relentlessly disciplined. Qian Ye's determination was frightening in its purity.He trained without complaint, pushed past pain without hesitation, and his focus never wavered.
Around them, the other Soul Masters exchanged uneasy looks. Awe and envy mingled in their eyes.
Golden Crocodile Douluo chuckled warmly. "Little Ye, how do you feel?"
Qian Ye answered calmly, "I followed your instructions — I gathered my Soul Power into a single point, then released it. I didn't use much power, but the impact was immense."
Golden Crocodile Douluo nodded approvingly. "Correct. Every Soul Master's power is limited — true strength lies in how you use it. Most let their Soul Power disperse throughout their bodies, wasting it in battle. But when you focus it — condense every thread of energy into one precise strike — its destructive force multiplies. That is control."
Qian Ye's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He felt the truth of it deep in his core.
Control over strength. Precision over chaos. That's the difference between a warrior and a weapon.
He recalled the techniques of his past life — the martial world's "inner energy" that could shatter mountains without a soul ring. Tang San had weaponized that very concept. So why couldn't he?
If Soul Power could be molded like internal energy, then the key wasn't in the rings — it was in the will.
He looked up suddenly. "Uncle Golden Crocodile," he said, "does Spirit Hall keep any manuals about self-created Soul Skills?"
The elder blinked, surprised. "You're thinking of…?"
Qian Ye's expression was calm but resolute. "I want to study how others did it — then create my own."
Golden Crocodile Douluo studied him for a long moment, then smiled with pride. "Good. Go to the Spirit Hall Library. We've collected many such records there. You may find what you seek."
Qian Ye nodded once. "Thank you."
The library stood like a sacred fortress of knowledge — towering walls lined with carved gold script, its doors etched with countless sigils.
The librarian recognized him instantly and bowed. "Young Master Qian Ye."
Qian Ye acknowledged the greeting with a nod and entered without a word.
The Spirit Hall Library was vast beyond measure, containing the accumulated wisdom of generations. From the founding of Spirit Hall onward, every pope had contributed to its archives. It was said that even the most learned scholars of the continent would lose themselves for decades among these shelves.
No wonder that fraud Yu Xiaogang tried to exploit this place, Qian Ye thought coldly. He parroted what others discovered and called it genius — and Bibi Dong still fell for it. Pathetic.
Disgust flickered across his face. Two fools — one obsessed, one blind. They deserve each other.
He turned away from the thought and began his search.
After hours of scouring rows of ancient shelves, he found what he sought — the section dedicated to self-created Soul Skills.
He pulled several manuals free, their covers thick with dust and age. Inside, the scripts detailed countless methods of manipulating Soul Power into unique forms — offensive, defensive, and auxiliary.
"Whirlwind Slash.""Eighteen Steps of Heavenly Travel.""Butterfly Body Movement."
As he read, his mind sharpened. These weren't so different from the martial arts manuals of his past life — movements refined into principles, principles into laws.
Soon, he lost all sense of time.
Late into the night, candlelight flickered across the pages as Qian Ye read and experimented in his mind.He envisioned the flow of power, the pulse of movement, the balance between restraint and release.
I can do this, he thought. I don't need rings to define me. I'll forge techniques no one else can comprehend.
He could already feel the ideas taking shape in his consciousness — patterns of energy, rhythms of power.When dawn finally broke, Qian Ye opened his eyes. A sharp, brilliant light flashed within them. His aura surged, calm but far denser than before.
"So that's it," he whispered. "I understand."
He turned and strode from the library, eager to test his new theory in practice.
But just as he stepped into the morning air —
A sudden, powerful aura swept down from above.Wind exploded around him, and before he could react, his body lifted off the ground.
Startled, Qian Ye looked up — and his eyes widened.
The man before him hovered effortlessly, long silver hair flowing behind him, his features refined like a sculpture. His robes were pure white, and two ethereal feathers — one silver, one pale blue — glowed faintly beneath his feet.
He exuded elegance and overwhelming calm — a light that demanded respect.
Qian Ye instantly recognized him."Uncle Glowing Feather Douluo…? The Fifth Elder?"
The man smiled warmly. "Little Qian Ye, it's been a while. Have you missed your uncle?"