The wind carried the smell of salt and memory.
Hai Shen Ling stood alone at the edge of the reef where the sea met the sacred cliffs of Sea God Island. The evening sun dipped into the horizon, casting amber light over the trembling waves, but his eyes were locked not on the light—but on the rhythm. The sea had always hummed, a constant lullaby beneath his skin. But now, it pulsed.
It called.
It had been three days since his last demonstration—three days since he unleashed the power of his third spirit ring and stunned the Seven Sea Douluo with the synchrony of his three soul skills: Siren Echo, Soul Lure Mirage, and the mysterious Voice of the Abyss. But something had shifted afterward.
When he meditated, the ocean's song grew louder. When he walked, puddles formed beneath his feet—even when it hadn't rained. The moonlight bent differently around him, and his dreams… they were no longer his own.
Bo Saixi had noticed it too.
She stood behind him now, silent in her robes of sea-silver and white. She hadn't spoken for a while—not since this morning when Shenling woke up in a trance, seawater clinging to his skin, humming in a language he didn't understand.
"Your soul power," she finally said, her voice soft, "is no longer merely yours."
Shenling turned slightly, his pale blue eyes reflecting the tide. "What do you mean?"
Bo Saixi stepped forward and reached out, brushing a fingertip along his arm. The moment her skin met his, her brows furrowed.
"You're changing," she whispered. "No, not changing—resonating. The ocean is bleeding through your spirit… and leaving something behind."
She looked toward the sea. "I feared this would happen sooner."
"Feared?" Shenling echoed, surprised. "I thought this was what we trained for."
"It is," she said slowly. "But not this soon. You've only had three spirit rings. This resonance—this depth of attunement—it should only emerge after reaching Title Douluo. Maybe even beyond."
Shenling was quiet for a long moment, then turned back to the waves.
"I keep dreaming," he said. "But the dreams don't feel like mine. I see ruins beneath the sea. I hear voices calling out in battle. Screams and singing. And always a melody I can't follow, but that feels like… home."
Bo Saixi closed her eyes. "The Sea Remembers."
"What?"
She walked to stand beside him, her silhouette silhouetted against the darkening sky.
"There are legends… lost even to Spirit Hall and the history scrolls of Douluo Continent. Before the current era—before the Age of Spirit Masters—there were the Deep Songs. Ancient songs, sung by the children of the sea, warriors and priestesses chosen by the Sea God himself."
"Songs?" Shenling asked.
"Not battle songs," she said. "Songs of memory. Songs that bound the past to the present. Songs that allowed chosen vessels to inherit the grief and wisdom of those who had fallen before."
She looked at him seriously now.
"You're not just hearing the ocean, Shenling. You're remembering it."
The wind grew still.
Bo Saixi's words sank into Shenling like stones tossed into still water, creating ripples across his mind. You're remembering the ocean.
He didn't know what that truly meant—but it explained the dreams. The voices. The ache in his chest when he heard the waves crash just a bit too loud, as though each drop carried grief.
"Why me?" he asked, barely louder than the wind. "Why would the sea give me these memories?"
Bo Saixi stepped closer, her face weary, yet kind. "Because you were born of it."
She gestured to the horizon. "You came from the sea, Shenling—not just delivered by it. The moment I felt your spirit for the first time, drifting within that crystal casket, I knew… the ocean didn't just carry you. It chose you."
Shenling looked down, watching the tide wash over his bare feet. It was warm—warmer than it should've been—and the hum he felt in his bones grew louder with each wave.
"You said the songs are lost," he murmured. "Then how can I hear them?"
Bo Saixi hesitated. "Because some fragments still remain—hidden in the deepest sanctuaries, stored in sacred relics, sealed in trials only the chosen of the Sea God may enter." She paused. "And… because the Siren remembers."
Shenling stiffened. "You mean… my martial soul?"
She nodded. "The Siren isn't just a mythical creature. In the earliest records passed down by my predecessor, the Siren was once the Voice of the Sea God. A guardian of divine intent. It sang to protect, to warn, to heal—but also to destroy when the tides turned foul."
Shenling stared at her, stunned.
"Then why do people fear it?"
"Because," she said quietly, "the last time a Siren sang in full, an entire fleet sank into the deep—dragged down by the sorrow of the sea itself."
The silence that followed was broken only by the distant caw of a seabird and the hush of the waves.
Shenling turned away and walked a few steps down the rocky shoreline. The sun had vanished completely now, and moonlight shimmered across the water's skin like silver tears.
"Am I dangerous?" he asked. "To you? To the others?"
Bo Saixi stepped behind him again, placing a hand on his back. "You are powerful, Shenling. And with power comes danger. But that doesn't make you dangerous. It makes your choices matter more."
He closed his eyes. "Then teach me how to control it."
"I will," she said without hesitation. "Starting tomorrow, we begin your spiritual attunement ritual."
Shenling turned back to her. "What's that?"
"A ritual once reserved for High Priests and Sea God Inheritors. It allows one to open their soul to the ocean's past—if they are ready." Her voice became softer. "But be warned… you may not like everything you remember."
"I don't care," Shenling said, eyes burning with resolve. "If I'm going to carry the ocean's voice, I need to understand its silence too."
Bo Saixi gave him a long, searching look, and then finally… she smiled.
"You are more your own than I ever expected," she said. "But you are also everything the sea hoped you'd become."
She turned and began walking back toward the shrine.
"Rest tonight, Shenling. Tomorrow, you will begin to listen—not as a disciple… but as the heir of echoes."
That night, Shenling did not sleep.
He sat at the same spot on the shore, knees drawn to his chest, the waves kissing his feet and calves. And for the first time in his life, he didn't try to silence the sea inside him.
He welcomed it.
And it answered.
The tide shifted around him unnaturally, curving inwards like arms embracing him. Tiny glimmers of light rose from the water, like scattered stars beneath the surface. The air grew thick—not heavy, but dense with meaning.
And then… the voice returned.
A whisper. Faint. Ancient.
"We sang the storm into silence… but who now will sing for us?"
Shenling didn't flinch. He closed his eyes and whispered back:
"I will."
The words left his mouth in a whisper, but the sea responded like a choir.
The waters before him shimmered. Not just reflected light—but shimmered with memory. Scenes danced across the surface: a coral palace rising from the trench, long tendrils of kelp swaying like banners, and warriors clad in armor forged from shells and tideglass.
He wasn't hallucinating.
He was seeing.
A low hum echoed from his chest, not of his own will—but instinct. His Siren Martial Soul, reacting on its own, emerged behind him in a translucent illusion. The elegant, haunting creature hovered, eyes closed, its long hair flowing like ink in the water.
Then it began to sing.
Softly. Like a lullaby forgotten by time.
Each note bent the world. Waves slowed. Wind paused. The stars above blinked in harmony with the rhythm. Shenling didn't move—he couldn't. His soul was being pulled by something deeper than gravity or magic. It was being unfolded.
And for a moment… he saw her.
A woman with hair like mist and eyes that shimmered like the moon's reflection on the ocean. Her form flickered, ancient and elegant, standing waist-deep in a temple flooded by twilight. She sang not with joy, nor sorrow—but duty. Notes that carried ages of burden.
He recognized her—not from memory, but essence.
The First Siren.
The Sea God's Voice.
His Martial Soul's first incarnation.
Her mouth moved, but he couldn't hear the words. He leaned closer instinctively—only for her form to flicker violently, as though some great force blocked her message.
Then, with eyes full of pain and fire, she raised her hand and pointed—
—not at him, but at his heart.
A jolt of soul force surged through his chest. He gasped, falling backward into the sand, clutching his robes. His Martial Soul dissipated instantly, like mist in sunlight. The glow of memory faded. The stars returned to their usual stillness.
The sea was quiet again.
Except within him.
Now… something lingered.
A mark. Not physical. Not visible. But felt.
A note, suspended.
A memory, unresolved.
When morning came, Shenling stood before Bo Saixi in the Shrine of Shells. The High Priestess of the Sea God regarded him quietly as he entered, robes slightly damp from the night air, his steps firmer than before.
"You saw something," she said.
Shenling nodded.
"I heard… a song. Not mine. I saw someone who used to carry it."
Bo Saixi's expression softened into awe. "The First Siren."
Shenling nodded again, slowly.
"She couldn't speak. Her message was blocked. But she pointed… here." He touched his chest. "I don't know what it means."
Bo Saixi placed a hand above his heart without speaking. She closed her eyes. After a moment, her breath caught.
"…You carry a seal," she whispered. "A living resonance. A piece of her—of her duty—has passed into you."
"Is that bad?"
Bo Saixi opened her eyes and stepped back, her voice reverent.
"No," she said. "It means the ocean no longer considers you just its child. It now names you… heir."
The chamber fell silent.
Outside, the ocean stirred gently—waves lapping the shore as though in applause.
And above, somewhere hidden in cloud and current, the Sea God watched.