Chapter 4 – Cracks Beneath the Talent
The awakening ceremony ended, but the waves it caused had yet to settle.
Wherever Lin Huang went, gazes followed.
Some were filled with admiration.Some with curiosity.And some… with poorly concealed jealousy.
The translucent, phantom-like tails of the Imperial Fox Martial Spirit had shaken the Lin Clan to its core. Even though only one tail had fully manifested, the faint silhouettes of the other eight were enough to remind everyone of the clan's ancient legend—the Nine-Tailed Imperial Fox, the symbol of their founding ancestor.
Talent like this had not appeared in generations.
Lin Qingshan maintained a polite smile as he exchanged pleasantries with the elders, but his clenched fists betrayed his true emotions.His son, Lin Haochen, stood behind him, eyes dark and restless.
On the other side, Lin Zhenyuan's posture was calm and steady, like a mountain. Beside him, Lin Yueqin gently held Lin Huang's hand, her expression soft but her eyes vigilant.And at the head of it all, Lin Tianhe merely laughed heartily, his gaze fixed on his grandson with unconcealed pride.
"A good omen for the Lin Clan," he declared.But in his heart, he knew such an omen also carried danger.
The next morning, Lin Huang stood in the clan's training yard.
Today was not about soul power.It was about the body.
He slowly assumed a stance taught by his grandfather, feet rooted to the ground, back straight, breath steady. As his breathing deepened, warmth spread through his veins, pulsing with each heartbeat.
This was the second stage of body cultivation—Blood Strengthening.
Children his age would normally collapse after a few minutes of such training. Yet Lin Huang endured. His breathing remained rhythmic, his posture unbroken.
Sweat trickled down his temples, but his eyes stayed clear.
With every breath, he felt something strange.
The air he inhaled no longer felt like mere air.It carried a faint warmth, a subtle resonance that seemed to echo within his Martial Spirit.
Is this… resonance?
He could not explain it, but his instincts told him that his body and Martial Spirit were beginning to respond to one another.
Nearby, several children trained together.
Among them, Lin Haochen's gaze lingered on Lin Huang for far too long.
"So this is the so-called genius," Haochen scoffed quietly. "Talent without control is meaningless. Geniuses who grow too fast tend to fall the hardest."
The words were soft, but not meant to be unheard.
A few of the other children hesitated, unsure whether to agree or stay silent.
Lin Huang opened his eyes and looked at Haochen calmly.
He said nothing.
But in that brief moment, he understood something clearly.
This was not simple rivalry.This was resentment born of blood and power.
His uncle had lost the struggle for the position of clan leader.And that defeat had been passed down… to the next generation.
From the shadows, Lin Tianhe observed everything.
He did not intervene.The world would not be kind to a talent like this.Better for his grandson to learn early.
That night, exhaustion pulled Lin Huang into sleep the moment his head touched the pillow.
But rest did not come.
He dreamed.
No—he remembered.
In his vision, he saw unfamiliar worlds.
A man reading novels on a glowing screen.Discussions about Martial World.Arguments about Battle Through the Heavens.Endless debates about cultivation systems, body refinement, bloodlines, and limits.
He watched those memories like stories unfolding before his eyes.
And then, clarity struck.
"These aren't dreams…""They're memories."
His consciousness trembled.
Two lives overlapped.
Two perspectives merged.
He saw Douluo Continent with new eyes—not as a world of miracles, but as a flawed system bound by rigid rules.
Soul power was absorbed.Soul rings were hunted.Martial Spirits were fixed.
Efficient… but primitive.
"If cultivation is only about absorbing and releasing soul power…""Then this world is still walking the most basic path."
The realization sent a shock through his mind.
His spiritual sea surged, expanding quietly, as if his soul itself had taken a step forward.
Lin Huang woke up drenched in sweat.
His small hands trembled as he raised them before his eyes.
The world looked the same.
But he was not.
He could feel the flow of soul power within his body more clearly than ever before. He could sense the faint presence of his Martial Spirit, as if it were no longer just a manifestation… but a part of his being.
He took a slow breath.
The air responded.
Not with power—but with potential.
"Cultivation isn't destiny," he thought."It's a system."
And systems could be understood.
They could be improved.
They could be rewritten.
From that night on, Lin Huang no longer viewed strength as something granted by fate.
He began to see it as something to be designed.
Outside his window, under the pale moonlight, a young boy stood watching the same sky with clenched fists.
Lin Haochen's eyes burned with silent hostility.
Somewhere in the darkness, an elder whispered in awe,
"That child… will change the fate of the Lin Clan."
And perhaps…
The fate of Douluo itself.