The tide was changing again.
It wasn't something you could see—not in the moon-silvered waves or in the foam that kissed the shore—but everyone on Sea God Island felt it. A pull, soft but constant, like the faint hum of a song from far away. And that hum, unrelenting and gentle, was guiding Hai Shen Ling.
The first rays of dawn stretched across the waters as Shen Ling meditated at the edge of the Moonlit Trench, the deepest part of the coastal basin. He sat cross-legged on a rock whose surface shimmered with old inscriptions. Yin Shu stood behind him, silent, his arms crossed as if trying to protect them both from whatever came next.
Since the manifestation of the Song of the Abyssal Trial, Shen Ling had not slept properly. The soul echoes he summoned lingered in his dreams—some whispering, others weeping. Yet none of them frightened him.
What unsettled him more was the sea's silence.
"Can you feel it again?" Yin Shu asked.
Shen Ling opened his eyes slowly. "Yes. It's not like before… It's not memory. It's direction."
Yin Shu furrowed his brow. "Direction?"
"It's calling me somewhere. Beyond the edge of the trench."
Sea Star Douluo, who had approached without a sound, stepped forward. "That's not unusual. The Siren's power is linked to currents of intent. The stronger your will, the more the sea responds with paths."
"But the trench is off-limits," Yin Shu protested.
"Only to the uninvited," Sea Star replied. Then he looked at Shen Ling. "But you… you've already become a question the sea wants to answer."
Below the trench, the water was darker than shadow. Even spirit-enhanced vision couldn't fully pierce it. Shen Ling descended with Yin Shu beside him, both encased in watery veils created by Sea Woman Douluo's protective charm.
At the bottom, resting against the curve of the abyss, they found a creature not quite asleep, not quite awake.
It was massive. Long, serpentine, its scales woven like kelp and coral. It had no eyes—only a mouth shaped like a harp. Every exhalation it made trembled through the water, sending out deep pulses.
"It's singing," Shen Ling said.
Yin Shu paled. "What is that?"
"A Deep Resonant Leviathan," came a voice from above.
Sea Woman Douluo hovered just above them, watching.
"A soul beast from an age long before even the first Sea God. It sleeps at the gate of the world's memory. And it only awakens to songs it recognizes."
As Shen Ling approached, the creature stirred. Its harp-like mouth twitched. It recognized his presence.
And then, it sang back.
The trench trembled.
Yin Shu panicked. "We need to leave—"
"No," Shen Ling said, raising his hand. "This is the direction the sea gave me."
He began to hum again. Not loud. Not forceful. Just a subtle harmony that filled the trench like a breath held too long.
The leviathan rose.
And Shen Ling heard it: not a voice, but an idea—a trial not of combat, but of echo.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
The sea answered, not in words, but in pressure. A test.
The Leviathan opened its mouth wide and released a soundwave that engulfed Shen Ling's body and mind.
His consciousness plunged inward.
He awoke in a memory that was not his own.
The sky was burning.
Ships sank around him. Screams echoed. Waves turned red.
It was an ancient war of the seas.
And at the center of it all, stood a child—not more than five—alone, untouched, singing.
The Leviathan's memory.
Shen Ling watched as the child's voice quelled the fury of a dozen spirit beasts. A voice that held not command, but understanding.
And then the scene shattered.
He was back in the trench, gasping.
The Leviathan had drawn back.
Sea Woman Douluo stared at him, eyes wide.
"You passed," she whispered.
Yin Shu looked confused. "Passed what?"
"The Leviathan's Echo Trial. No one in the last thousand years has even awakened it. And Shen Ling… he harmonized."
Shen Ling stood, legs trembling. "Then that's why the sea went quiet. It wasn't silence. It was waiting."
Sea Woman Douluo nodded. "You heard it. Now you must carry it."
Yin Shu stared at Shen Ling in awe. "What did you see?"
Shen Ling looked at the waves, his voice soft. "I saw the voice that silenced war."
The sun hung low when Shen Ling emerged from the trench, clothes clinging to his body and salt crystallizing along his skin. His steps were slow, heavy, but not from exhaustion. The weight was internal, resonant—a new voice added to his own. The Leviathan's hum still echoed in the back of his mind.
Bo Saixi was already waiting at the cliff above the shore. She stood barefoot in the tide, her sea-blue robes fluttering in the wind like kelp. Her eyes, ancient and deep, did not blink as he approached.
"Tell me," she said softly, "what did you become beneath the sea?"
"I didn't become," Shen Ling replied, kneeling in the sand. "I listened."
She walked toward him, the wind now strangely still. "And what did it say?"
"That I was never meant to command the sea," he answered. "Only to carry its memory."
Bo Saixi's lips trembled. "Then it chose right."
She knelt beside him, not as a priestess, not as a guide, but as a mother.
"You are a child of the sea. And the sea does not forget its children."
That evening, the Seven Douluo gathered again, not in council, but in silence. Sea Ghost Douluo lit a lantern shaped like a conch and set it adrift into the waves.
"He's no longer training," Sea Fantasy murmured. "He's remembering for the ocean."
Sea Spear crossed his arms. "A burden no child should carry. And yet, he does."
"Not alone," said Sea Woman firmly. "He's not alone."
They watched the light fade.
Yin Shu approached quietly, still pale. "He doesn't sleep anymore."
"Dreams are heavy things," Sea Dragon replied. "Especially when they're not yours."
Far from the lantern, Shen Ling sat again at the Moonlit Trench. His eyes closed. The stars overhead flickered like drops of light caught in the current.
He summoned his rings—not to display them, but to listen.
First Soul Ring – Siren Echo: The waters vibrated, pulsing in perfect resonance. His voice called, and the tide whispered back.
Second Soul Ring – Soul Lure Mirage: Shadows danced along the surf, forms of memory and half-truths curling into illusion.
Innate Soul Skill – Voice of the Abyss: A hum, deeper than sound, filled the world with grief too ancient for words.
Third Soul Ring – Song of the Abyssal Trial: Echoes rose. Figures not of this world, but of all those left behind. They circled him like mournful guardians.
He took a breath and let his voice flow—not to command, not to control, but to resonate.
The water lifted in response.
The sea responded.
And from the distance, a second voice rose.
A deep tone. Familiar, but not human.
The Leviathan.
It sang with him.
Not to test. But to accompany.
Together, their song wove across the waves. It wasn't battle. It wasn't trial. It was communion.
And across Sea God Island, every spirit beast within reach stirred from slumber. Not in fear. Not in anger.
In awe.
For the first time in centuries, the ocean itself sang.
The sky above Sea God Island churned with the last light of dusk, stained purple and orange, as if the heavens themselves had absorbed the echoes of Hai Shen Ling's communion with the deep. He remained by the Moonlit Trench's edge, unmoving, his body a silhouette against the horizon.
But within, he trembled.
The Leviathan's song had not faded. It had nested within his soul.
Bo Saixi arrived silently behind him. Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a ripple.
"Has it settled?"
Shen Ling turned, eyes distant but focused. "It hasn't left. It's not like the others. The song doesn't echo—it remains."
She stepped closer, her expression unreadable. "And what does it want from you?"
Shen Ling paused before answering. "To remember. To pass it on. And to protect it."
From a distance, Sea Dragon Douluo approached with Sea Ghost Douluo. The others followed, the Seven Children of the Sea now drawn not by duty, but by instinct.
Sea Star Douluo stepped forward, arms folded. "Then it gifted you more than power. It entrusted you with history."
Bo Saixi turned to them, voice soft. "We must acknowledge it now. Hai Shen Ling isn't simply our child. He is the tide's next truth."
Sea Woman Douluo walked up beside Shen Ling, studying the soft light that shimmered faintly around his shoulders. "Have you realized it?" she asked gently.
He shook his head.
"You've become a living artifact. The ocean's memory lives through you now."
A hush fell over the group.
Yin Shu, watching from a short distance, finally spoke. "What now?"
Shen Ling looked down at his hands. The veins beneath his skin glowed faintly, like rivers of bioluminescence. He flexed his fingers. "The sea gave me a story. I need to learn how to sing it in a world that's forgotten how to listen."
Sea Spear Douluo chuckled, low and grave. "Then start with those willing to hear."
The Seven Douluo, in a rare unison, knelt.
Not to worship.
To honor.
"We do not follow blindly," said Sea Ghost. "But we will walk beside the tide that remembers."
Bo Saixi placed a hand on Shen Ling's shoulder, voice brimming with a fierce pride she barely contained. "This isn't the end of your path. It's the first page of the song the world has forgotten."
He looked out again over the ocean. The waves shimmered back, not with reflection—but with acknowledgment.
A deep pulse stirred below.
Somewhere far beneath the sea, another ancient creature stirred. Not in challenge. In kinship.
The Leviathan's legacy was not a single song.
It was a choir, and Shen Ling had become its first voice in an age.
He stood.
The sea stood with him.