Chen Xin stood silently near the glowing barrier, his eyes fixed on the girl within. She sat cross-legged, immersed in the process of absorbing her first soul ring, a deep purple halo that pulsed with restrained might. Her martial soul, the Black Thorn Lotus, hovered above her like a solemn deity. Twelve ethereal emerald swords rotated gently behind her, flickering with quiet menace.
He narrowed his eyes, still unable to conceal the awe he felt. A thousand-year soul ring as the first, without suffering backlash. A soul tool with sword-type compatibility. A martial soul that caused his Seven Kill Sword to tremble instinctively.
He muttered under his breath, "Such talent… truly a jewel."
Already in his mind, a fantasy had taken root. He imagined stepping forward once she completed the absorption. Perhaps she would open her eyes, dazed, and he would extend a hand with noble grace. She would kneel, ask to become his disciple, and he would nod solemnly, accepting her in front of all. He pictured the envy in Gu Rong's eyes. Perhaps even the other clans would hear of this day.
Smirking slightly, he thought, Only the best deserves the best disciples.
But what he did not foresee was that if he dared say such words before Tang Hao, the only thing awaiting him would be a hammer to the skull, followed by a one-way trip to the afterlife.
Lost in his grand delusions, he didn't hear the footsteps behind him.
A gentle, cold voice rang out, so quiet it was almost casual, but it carried an oppressive weight.
"You seem… quite entertained."
Startled, Chen Xin spun around. His heart skipped a beat.
A man in a black cloak stood behind him. A wide-brimmed bamboo hat cast a partial shadow across his face, but it couldn't hide the heavy lines between his brows, nor the crimson gleam of his eyes, eyes that seemed to peer into the core of his soul.
Chen Xin instinctively tried to summon his Seven Kill Sword. But nothing happened.
His fingers wouldn't move.
A cold sweat formed at the back of his neck.
What?
Panic overtook him. His limbs moved on their own, completely against his will. Slowly, both hands reached upward, gripping his own throat.
The pressure increased. He couldn't breathe.
His legs buckled slightly as he looked at the figure in front of him, whose expression remained unchanged, as if watching a bug struggle in a jar. The man looked young, barely in his twenties by appearance, but the depth in his gaze spoke of something far older, far colder.
Chen Xin's mind raced.
Who is he? Why have I never heard of someone this strong? This presence… no, this fear, it's unnatural.
His fingers tightened further.
Then came the voice. Calm. Icy. Inescapable.
"I cannot believe the esteemed Sword Douluo is, in truth, a secret pedophile. Grinning over a defenseless girl, the same age as your granddaughter… smiling like some aging pervert."
The accusation landed like a blade through the chest.
If he could have spoken, he would have shouted in protest. He wanted to explain. To deny. To say it was a misunderstanding.
But his mouth refused to open. He couldn't even breathe. His face turned pale, fingers still locked around his throat. His vision dimmed at the edges.
He was trapped—in an illusion cast by the Mangekyō Sharingan. A genjutsu so potent that even peak-level soul masters like Chen Xin found themselves helpless. He tried to resist, to break the illusion with sheer will and spirit power, but it only tightened the mental trap further.
His pride, his years of cultivation, all meant nothing before this silent, unknown predator.
And then—
"Woah… it's done absorbing!"
A cheerful voice rang out behind the barrier.
Eren's gaze shifted past Chen Xin's trembling form. Inside the dome, Xīrán stood tall. Her expression was radiant, her spirit stabilized. The soul ring circled steadily around her body, and the Black Lotus shimmered above her head like a totem of ascension. Twelve emerald swords hovered behind her in neat formation.
He allowed a faint nod of approval to pass across his face.
At that same moment, Gu Rong and Ning Rongrong returned to the scene, frustrated and empty-handed. The violent screech from earlier had scattered most of the soul beasts within their range. They had found nothing worth absorbing.
But what they did find was Chen Xin, one of the most revered Douluo in the continent, gripping his own throat, face pale, breath ragged, eyes filled with fear.
Gu Rong's expression immediately turned grim.
He stepped forward and released his soul power, summoning his Bone Dragon Arm with a sharp, instinctual motion.
Ning Rongrong gasped and pointed toward her grandfather. "Grandpa Sword, what's happening!?"
But before either could act, Xīrán's voice cut through the tension.
"…What's going on?"