Chen Yu stood in the village square at dawn, the morning mist curling around his ankles like a living thing. The air was cool, heavy with the scent of dew and woodsmoke, and the square was empty except for Liang Hao, who was bouncing on his heels, barely containing his excitement. Today was the first day of their training under the Spirit Hall instructor, and Chen Yu's stomach churned with a mix of anticipation and dread. He'd spent the night replaying his experiments with the sphere, the strange vision of a starry void lingering in his mind. His martial soul was powerful, but it was also a mystery—one he needed to unravel before Spirit Hall started asking questions he couldn't answer.
A figure approached through the mist, tall and lean, dressed in the white robes of Spirit Hall. The instructor was younger than Chen Yu had expected, maybe in his early thirties, with a sharp jawline and eyes that seemed to miss nothing. His robe bore the same golden flame emblem as Deacon Wei's, but with only three stars—marking him as a Spirit Grandmaster, rank thirty or higher. The pressure of his soul power was stronger than the elder's, a steady hum that made the air feel dense.
"Chen Yu, Liang Hao," the man said, his voice crisp. "I am Instructor Gao Lin. Spirit Hall has tasked me with teaching you the basics of soul mastery. You're here because you have potential, but potential means nothing without discipline. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Liang Hao said, standing straighter, his grin faltering under Gao Lin's stern gaze. Chen Yu nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He didn't trust Spirit Hall, but he needed this training. Without it, he'd be stuck fumbling with his soul power, easy prey for any soul beast or rival soul master.
Gao Lin gestured to a cleared area at the edge of the square, where two straw mats were laid out. "Sit. We start with meditation. Soul power is the foundation of everything—combat, soul rings, even your survival. You'll learn to sense it, control it, and grow it."
Chen Yu sat cross-legged on the mat, glancing at Liang Hao, who was already mimicking the instructor's posture. Gao Lin knelt between them, his hands resting on his knees. "Close your eyes. Focus on the energy in your core. It's there, even if you don't feel it yet. Imagine a stream, flowing through you. Follow it."
Chen Yu closed his eyes, trying to ignore the knot of nerves in his gut. He'd felt his soul power before, that warmth in his chest tied to the sphere. Now, he reached for it again, picturing a stream as Gao Lin described. The hum was faint at first, like a distant melody, but it grew stronger as he focused. It wasn't just warmth—it was alive, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, connected to the sphere that was his martial soul. He let it flow, careful not to push too hard like he had in the barn.
"Good," Gao Lin said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Liang Hao, your soul power is steady but weak. Focus on deepening the flow. Chen Yu…" He paused, and Chen Yu felt a prickle of unease. "Your soul power is strong, but chaotic. You're holding back. Why?"
Chen Yu's eyes snapped open, meeting Gao Lin's piercing gaze. "I'm not holding back," he lied, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. "It's just… new."
Gao Lin studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. But don't hide your potential. Spirit Hall rewards those who show promise, but we don't tolerate secrets." He stood, brushing off his robe. "Now, summon your martial souls. Let's see what you're working with."
Liang Hao went first, eager as always. He closed his eyes, and a faint glow surrounded him as his wolf pup martial soul appeared above his head, small but snarling, its fur shimmering faintly. The crowd of early risers watching from the square murmured in approval. It was a decent soul for a village kid, with potential for combat if he got the right soul rings.
"Your turn, Chen Yu," Gao Lin said, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.
Chen Yu swallowed, his palms sweaty. He didn't want to show the sphere, not with its strange, almost sentient presence, but he had no choice. He closed his eyes, reaching for the hum in his chest. The warmth flared, and the air shimmered as the sphere appeared, hovering above his palm. Its dark, iridescent surface rippled with colors—black, blue, silver—like a captured night sky. The hum was louder now, vibrating through the square, and Chen Yu felt that presence again, watching him, curious and expectant.
The crowd gasped, and Gao Lin's composure slipped for a fraction of a second. "A relic-type soul," he said, stepping closer. "Unusual. Describe what you feel when you summon it."
Chen Yu hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's heavy," he said, which wasn't a lie. "Like it's pulling at something inside me. I don't know what it does yet."
Gao Lin frowned, circling him. "Relic souls are rare, and yours is… unique. Its aura is unstable, almost alive. Have you felt anything else? Visions? Voices?"
Chen Yu's heart skipped a beat. The vision in the barn—the starry void—flashed in his mind, but he shook his head. "No, sir. Just the weight."
Gao Lin didn't look convinced, but he stepped back. "Very well. You'll need to master its activation before we move to combat training. For now, practice summoning and dismissing it. Control is everything."
The rest of the morning was grueling. Gao Lin had them alternate between meditation and summoning their martial souls, pushing them to hold the summon for longer each time. Liang Hao's wolf pup flickered in and out, his soul power draining quickly, but he kept at it, grinning through the sweat. Chen Yu struggled to keep his sphere stable without letting it overwhelm him. Each time he summoned it, the hum grew stronger, and that sense of presence pressed harder, like a question he couldn't answer. By noon, he was exhausted, his small body trembling from the effort.
"Enough," Gao Lin said, clapping his hands. "Rest for an hour, then we'll work on basic combat stances. Soul power is useless if you can't move like a soul master."
Liang Hao flopped onto the grass, panting. "Man, this is harder than I thought. You okay, Yu? You look like you're gonna pass out."
"I'm fine," Chen Yu said, forcing a smile. He wasn't fine. The sphere was draining him faster than he'd expected, and Gao Lin's scrutiny was making him paranoid. He needed to figure out what his soul was capable of, but not here, not with Spirit Hall watching.
After a quick lunch of steamed buns from a vendor, they returned to the square for combat training. Gao Lin demonstrated basic stances—low, balanced forms designed to maximize speed and power. Liang Hao threw himself into it, mimicking the moves with enthusiasm, if not grace. Chen Yu followed along, his movements clumsy but precise, drawing on Ethan's memories of martial arts videos he'd watched out of curiosity. It wasn't much, but it gave him an edge over the other kids in the village.
As they practiced, Chen Yu noticed Gao Lin watching him closely, his eyes lingering on every move. It wasn't just interest in his potential—it was suspicion. Chen Yu's heart sank. He'd been too careful, too guarded, and it was making him stand out. He needed to blend in, to seem eager but unremarkable, at least until he understood his soul better.
The training ended at dusk, with Gao Lin assigning them meditation exercises to practice before the next session. As the square emptied, Chen Yu lingered, watching the instructor walk away, his white robe fading into the twilight. Liang Hao nudged him, grinning. "Pretty cool, huh? We're gonna be soul masters, Yu. Real ones."
"Yeah," Chen Yu said, his voice distant. "Real ones."
That night, he couldn't sleep. The hum in his chest was restless, and the sphere's presence felt stronger, like it was waiting for something. He slipped out of the orphanage again, heading back to the abandoned barn. The village was quiet, the only sound the creak of lanterns swaying in the breeze. Inside the barn, he sat in the darkness, summoning the sphere once more.
This time, he pushed harder, letting his soul power flow freely. The sphere grew, its surface rippling faster, and the air around it vibrated with that strange resonance. The wooden beams above creaked, and a pile of straw shifted, drawn toward the sphere. Chen Yu's breath hitched. He focused, trying to shape the effect, and the sphere pulsed, sending a ripple through the air. A cracked bucket in the corner rattled, then slid across the floor, stopping at his feet.
He cut off the soul power, gasping. The sphere vanished, and the barn fell silent. His head throbbed, but he'd done it—controlled the effect, even if just for a moment. It wasn't just pulling objects; it was bending the space around them, like a ripple in a pond. But why? And what was that presence, that sense of something watching?
A sudden snap outside the barn made him freeze. He held his breath, listening. Footsteps, soft but deliberate, crunched on the grass. Not an animal. Someone was out there. He crept to the door, peering through a crack. A shadow moved in the moonlight, too tall to be a villager, too silent to be careless. Chen Yu's blood ran cold. Spirit Hall? A soul beast? Or something tied to his soul's strange power?
He backed away, heart pounding. He couldn't stay here, not tonight. As he slipped out the back of the barn and hurried toward the village, the hum in his chest pulsed once, sharp and urgent, like a warning. Whatever was out there, it wasn't just chance. His new life was getting more dangerous by the day, and he was running out of time to prepare.