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Night fell.
Yang Fan faced his first night in the soul beast forest.
By now, he'd already processed the Flame Tiger's remains…
No soul bone.
The only valuable part was… well, that.
After drying, that particular organ of a soul beast often served as a potent alchemical ingredient—and a tiger's "great whip" was especially prized.
In the end, Yang Fan hoisted the tiger's carcass high into the trees.
Flame Tigers were fiercely territorial—their scent would deter other soul beasts from approaching during the night.
As darkness enveloped the forest, Yang Fan meticulously analyzed the possible location of the Blue Silver Emperor in Douluo Continent.
Six years ago, Tang Hao and the Spirit Hall had clashed over the hundred-thousand-year Blue Silver Emperor. The outcome? The Blue Silver Emperor sacrificed herself, and the Spirit Hall left empty-handed.
Tang Hao then fled with his family to Holy Spirit Village.
At the height of tensions between the Spirit Hall and the Hao Tian Sect, Tang Hao went into hiding under an assumed name.
And with young Tang San—a literal "deadweight"—in tow, he certainly wouldn't have dared bring Ah Yin back to the Blue Silver Emperor's ancestral soul beast forest.
Therefore, Yang Fan deduced: the hundred-thousand-year Blue Silver Emperor must be buried near Holy Spirit Village—and not far at all.
Using Holy Spirit Village as the center, and taking a Title Douluo's half-day travel range as the radius, they could conduct a systematic search.
He refused to believe they couldn't find it.
Tang Hao…
You ruined my clan—so I'll take your wife!
…
Yang Fan pulled out a map of Douluo Continent from an old soul tool.
The continent was divided into two great empires: Tian Dou in the north, Star Luo in the south—with the Star Dou Forest slicing right through the middle.
He was currently on the outer edge of the forest, where the territories of the two empires came closest.
Holy Spirit Village lay in the southwestern border province of Fasinuo, within the Tian Dou Empire—roughly 500 kilometers away in a straight line.
Yang Fan decided to cut straight through this thousand-year soul beast zone from the rear—it would save him significant time.
With direction, action gains strength!
Having solidified his plan, he sat cross-legged on a relatively flat rock, summoned his martial soul, and began meditating.
This method of rest didn't just restore his stamina and mental clarity—it also refined his soul power further.
Truly diligent soul masters always trained this way.
…
Dawn barely broke when Yang Fan packed up and prepared to leave.
"Wait."
"Your master has a gift for you."
Yao Lao suddenly appeared.
The slight upward curl of his lips sent an ominous chill down Yang Fan's spine.
In the next instant, Yao Lao produced a massive black metal ruler. Its surface was etched with faint, mysterious patterns that swirled from the handle to cover nearly the entire shaft. Against its ancient, matte-black finish, the weapon exuded an aura of profound mystery.
Yang Fan recognized this bulky black giant instantly!
This was the very same ruler Xiao Yan had carried on his path to becoming the Flame Emperor.
"This is the Heavy Xuan Ruler (Mysterious Heavy Ruler)," Yao Lao declared. "It possesses the miraculous ability to suppress Dou Qi."
He'd originally planned to give it to Yang Fan only after he reached Soul Grandmaster—but after seeing how quickly the boy sensed Dou Qi yesterday, Yao Lao realized he'd underestimated him.
"Master… do I even have enough Dou Qi to suppress?" Yang Fan groaned.
Seriously—he felt like the tiny wisp of Dou Qi inside him was smaller than a fart.
"Precisely because your Dou Qi is so weak that you must temper it!"
"Catch!"
With a casual flick, Yao Lao sent the Heavy Xuan Ruler floating gently toward Yang Fan.
But the moment Yao Lao withdrew the Dou Qi cushioning it—
THUD!
The ruler's true weight slammed Yang Fan into the ground.
It pinned him chest-down, limbs splayed helplessly, utterly immobilized.
Yang Fan knew the ruler was heavy—he'd braced himself with all his strength.
Yet he still underestimated it.
If this thing had landed on the Flame Tiger yesterday, that beast would've screamed "Daddy!"
Helpless, Yang Fan finally resorted to channeling his soul power into his hands. Only by wrapping his fingers in dense soul energy could he slowly drag the ruler off his body.
"When you can walk normally while carrying it on your back," Yao Lao said, "you'll be ready to learn Dou techniques."
Those words lit a fire in Yang Fan's heart. Today, he'd carry this damn ruler—even if it killed him.
After three failed attempts, he finally found a method.
At six years old, he was far too short to sling the ruler across his back like a wandering swordsman.
His only option? Lift it like an Olympic weightlifter.
The ruler's intricate patterns provided perfect grip points.
He dragged two large boulders—each as tall as he was—and placed them in front of the ruler.
On his fourth attempt…
He focused all his soul power into his ten fingers, gripping the engraved patterns tightly.
"I WANT TO LEARN DOU TECHNIQUES!"
In that moment, Yang Fan unleashed strength he never knew he had.
He hoisted the Heavy Xuan Ruler high—and slammed it down onto the boulders. The entire shaft sank deep into the stone.
Then, positioning himself beneath it, he used his waist, back, and shoulders to slowly lift the colossal weight.
As the ruler's full burden settled onto his body, he could no longer sense his meager Dou Qi at all. Even more astonishing—his soul power, once the size of a steamed bun, had been compressed by the ruler's pressure into something the size of a cherry.
The Heavy Xuan Ruler didn't just suppress Dou Qi—it refined soul power with terrifying efficiency.
Gritting his teeth, Yang Fan took one agonizing step forward—and realized his shoes had sunk deep into the earth.
His grandfather had told him countless times:
"A soul master must walk with feet firmly on the ground—one step at a time. Those nobles who rely on pills to boost their rank end up as nothing but pretty pillows stuffed with straw."
All Yang Fan could think now was:
How's that footprint for clarity?!
"Not bad," Yao Lao murmured approvingly from above.
The method was clumsy—but the result mattered.
From this moment on, Yang Fan's path of bitter cultivation had truly begun.
He never imagined walking could be this hard.
Fortunately, he'd started weighted running on Yunluo City's rear mountain at age three and a half. Two and a half years of training had given his body extraordinary resilience to heavy loads.
By midday, he could already force himself forward—though progress was glacial.
Every few dozen meters, he had to drop the ruler and collapse, gasping for breath.
"Master…" he panted during one such break, "at this rate, when will we ever get through this forest?"
Honestly—just half a day of this had already made his soul power flow faster the moment he set the ruler down. His Dou Qi, however, remained pitifully scarce.
"Long-distance trekking is also cultivation!" Yao Lao chided. "What's your rush, you little brat?"
Yang Fan nodded thoughtfully.
His master was right.
By the timeline, he and Tang San were the same age.
Right now, soul academies were still on holiday. The Spirit Hall was busy traveling the land, awakening martial souls for commoners. Tang San probably hadn't even enrolled in Nuoding Academy yet.
Even if Yang Fan reached Holy Spirit Village now… there'd be nothing for him to do.
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