Chapter 8 – The Weight of the Crown
A Gesture of Grace
The clearing was silent, save for the heavy, ragged breathing of the Iron-Armored Guards. They were still pinned to the dirt, their bones groaning under the passive pressure leaking from the two Titled Douluos.
Lakan looked at the squad leader, whose face was turning a dull shade of purple. He didn't look at Yue Guan or Gui Mei with fear, but with a slight, playful tilt of his head.
"You know," Lakan said, his voice light and conversational, "they're actually quite good at their jobs. It would be a shame if they were crushed before they got their paychecks, don't you think?"
Yue Guan chuckled, his golden eyes shimmering. "Oh? You're worried about them? How noble."
"Not noble, just practical," Lakan replied. He took a single step forward, and suddenly, his Seven-Tone Chaos breathing shifted. He pulsed his Soul Power at a frequency that acted as a "counter-wave" to the Douluos' pressure.
It wasn't a show of strength, but of Harmonics. The guards suddenly felt the invisible weight lift. They gasped, scrambling to their feet and retreating toward the carriage, looking at Lakan with newfound awe.
"Interesting," the Ghost Douluo rasped. "You didn't push back against our power. You... harmonized with it."
"The world is just a series of vibrations," Lakan said, offering a small, humble shrug. "If you know the note, you can change the song."
The Journey Begins
As they boarded the far more luxurious carriage provided by the Supreme Pontiff Hall, the atmosphere changed. Yue Guan sat across from Lakan, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.
"So, Lakan," Yue Guan began, "Su Yuntao's report mentioned a name for your Martial Soul. The 'Adarna.' I've spent my life studying the flora and fauna of this continent, and I've never heard of such a beast. Where did that name come from?"
Lakan looked out the window as the forest began to blur past.
"Technically, it comes from a poem back home," Lakan thought, but his expression remained calm and grounded. "In the scrolls my parents found, the bird was described as a sovereign of seven songs. 'Adarna' was the title given to it. It's a spirit of healing and transformation. I figured it was better than just calling it 'Prismatic Bird #1'."
Yue Guan laughed, the sound warm and surprisingly likable. "I like your style, kid. 'Adarna' it is. And these techniques of yours... the way you moved against that Kingfisher. That wasn't just instinct."
Lakan leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Inside his mind, the Eight-Directional Flow Scripture was active, a mental map of 45-degree angles and meridian points.
"The system is still incomplete," Lakan analyzed. "I've mastered the Hakbang Tatsulok (Triangular Pivot) for defense and Panununtukan (Vibrational Pulse) for internal damage, but my Soul Power reserves are still too low to sustain the Mandala of Strikes. I need that second ring to stabilize the output. The Kingfisher's ring gave me the 'First Tone'—the Sovereign's Prismatic Wail—but I need the solar essence of a Sun-Chaser to fuel the Iridescent Bone Forging to the next level."
"I call it the Eight-Directional Flow," Lakan said aloud, answering Yue Guan's unspoken question. "It's about moving with the world instead of against it. Most people try to be the wall. I'd rather be the wind that finds the cracks in the wall."
The Ghost Douluo, usually a man of few words, spoke up from the shadows of the carriage corner. "And your goal? A boy with your mind doesn't just want a fancy title in the capital."
Lakan looked at the two of them. He could see the humanity in them—the pride they took in their strength, but also the loneliness of being "monsters" in the eyes of others.
"I want to see how far the 'rhythm' can go," Lakan said, his smile becoming confident yet warm. "And I think Spirit Hall is the best stage for the performance. Plus... I hear the food in Wuhun City is better than village porridge."
Yue Guan grinned, reaching out to pat Lakan's head. "Kid, I think we're going to get along just fine."