One by one, the children completed their awakenings until only Wu Tong remained.
Without waiting for Mo Xuan's summons, Wu Tong stepped into the hexagonal formation on the ground.
As the black stones flared with golden light, he closed his eyes.
A cool breath slithered up from his soles, coiled through his veins, and vanished into his mind like mist dissolving in dawn's first light.
Then—clarity.
It was as if a lantern had been lit in the fog of his consciousness. His thoughts, once tangled, now unspooled with razor-sharp precision. Dry soil turning fertile; stagnant water rushing free. Every calculation, every memory, ignited like stars flaring to life.
Forgotten fragments from his past life surfaced—crisp, vivid. The title of a half-remembered book. The face of a childhood friend. The equations scribbled on a college dorm's whiteboard. All retrievable, as though his mind had become an exquisitely indexed library.
This…
Wu Tong's pulse quickened. He recognized this sensation.
The Brain—the martial soul that should have dominated Douluo II's era.
Main Martial Soul · Mind.
"No external manifestation. A body-part martial soul?" Mo Xuan observed Wu Tong's empty hands and sighed. The Spirit Hall's records contained countless such cases.
Though rare, main martial souls were far from extraordinary.
"Which part?" Mo Xuan asked, already disinterested.
"My brain," Wu Tong answered automatically.
"Tch. Another dud."
To the people of Douluo I, a mind-based martial soul was useless—no weapon's edge, no beast's strength, no support-class utility.
Wu Tong ignored the remark.
He knew exactly what potential thrummed within him.
Even without future evolutions, his Brain Martial Soul offered three immediate development paths. But Wu Tong discarded them all.
His obsession? The "Heaven-Defying Comprehension" talents from Earth's web novels.
What if I could replicate even 0.01% of that power?
With it, Douluo's summit was inevitable. Perhaps even beyond—to the worlds whispered of in legends.
If Douluo existed, why not others?
Now, only one question remained:
Did he possess spirit power?
Even a single level would suffice. Time was negotiable; opportunity was not.
"Enough dawdling. Test your spirit power." Mo Xuan nudged the crystal ball forward, mistaking Wu Tong's stillness for despair.
Wu Tong placed his palm on the sphere.
Flash!
Blinding gold erupted, flooding the crystal until no inch remained unlit.
"Innate… full spirit power?!" Mo Xuan's voice cracked.
His gaze swung to Wu Tong—envy, then pity.
Such talent… wasted on this.
He bit back the word "useless". No point insulting a future Titled Douluo, even one shackled with a garbage martial soul.
"Do you understand what this means?" Mo Xuan leaned in, suddenly earnest. "Innate full spirit power guarantees you'll reach Title Douluo—the pinnacle of our world!"
Wu Tong gave him a flat "Oh."
Mo Xuan's eye twitched.
This brat… Behind him, the other children gasped, awed. That's the proper reaction!
Swallowing his annoyance, Mo Xuan extended an offer:
"Wu Tong. Will you join the Spirit Hall?"
Wu Tong's head snapped up. His eyes blazed.
Ah. There it is. Mo Xuan smirked. Even prodigies couldn't resist the Hall's prestige.
Then—
"I'm too young to decide," Wu Tong said, voice smooth as polished jade. "I'll consider it after graduating from a Soul Master Academy. Thank you for awakening me."
Mo Xuan's smile froze.
You little—! That earlier excitement wasn't for the Hall at all!
(Truthfully, Wu Tong had been envisioning his first soul ring's ability—hence the spark in his gaze.)
With an awkward cough, Wu Tong stepped aside, his stance final.
"Fine. Your loss."
Mo Xuan shrugged. No great pity. A useless martial soul was still useless, full spirit power or not.
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