Location: Mingdu, Capital of the Sun Moon Empire
Among the many kingdoms and empires dotting the vast Douluo World, there was only one capital that looked not to the past but to the future.
Mingdu—capital of the Sun Moon Empire.
Unlike the traditional grandeur and medieval architecture seen in the capitals of the Heavenly Soul, Dou Ling, and Star Luo Empires, Mingdu stood apart—a beacon of modernity and soul-guided ambition.
Ever since the Sun Moon Continent collided with the Douluo Continent nearly four thousand years ago, the Sun Moon Empire had marked itself as an outlier in both culture and technology. Fueled by innovation, it once launched a bold conquest to unify the world, threatening to overturn the balance of power entirely. Though ultimately defeated, largely due to the intervention of Shrek Academy, its ambition never withered, nor was its spine ever broken.
In Mingdu, stone walls had long been replaced by gleaming towers of alloy and soul-infused crystal. Soul circuits ran through buildings like veins, connecting infrastructure in a web of precision. The streets below pulsed with the luminescent glow of soul guidance energy, lighting the capital even beneath a moonless sky.
Airborne soul tools zipped through traffic lanes above the city, casting glows across reflective panels. Pedestrians moved with poise, many bearing wrist-mounted soul tools or compact exosuits. Children played with light-projected illusions, and vendors used low-level amplifiers to advertise their tech products—everything from condensed spiritual batteries to mini defense arrays.
This was the only imperial city on the continent without a traditional military barrier. That alone was enough to speak of its boldness. There were no city walls—not out of arrogance, but because they were no longer needed.
But beneath that brilliance, far below the humming streets, hid one of the empire's most classified military laboratories.
And here—an intense discussion had just come to an abrupt stop.
Three figures sat around a heavily shielded war table of alloy and obsidian soul glass, surrounded by layers of anti-surveillance fields and harmonic disrupters that would render even spiritual detection techniques useless.
The first was a towering figure with sharp, spiky gray hair and eyes that burned with obsession.
Kong Deming.
He wore an imperial yellow robe—reserved for royalty—though none in the empire questioned it. His title earned it.
A Hyper Douluo and one of the foremost Class 9 Soul Engineers of the empire, he was also the Hall Master of the Imperial Consecration Hall. A man who could command even the emperor's silence, if he willed it. His ambition, however, wasn't seated in politics—it was to prove that with soul tools alone, mortals could reach and challenge the divine. "A spatio-temporal-level pulse with no detectable spiritual origin," Kong Deming muttered, his eyes reflecting charts of broken readings, clenched tightly in his fist. "Our most advanced sensors failed to sense anything even after repeated detection."
Sitting beside him, quiet but impossible to ignore, was an aged man with an ethereal presence.
Long Xiaoyao.
Known across all factions on the continent as the Dragon Emperor Douluo, he is one of the continent's three Limit Douluos and one half of the feared Twin Holy Dragons, the counterpart to Mu En of Shrek Academy. His tall frame, silver hair, and infant-like rosy face masked the terrifying strength that lingered just beneath his calm.
His eyebrows drooped long along either side of his face, unmoving even in thought. "It is as if the world is excluding a subtle pressure noticeable only by us, the Limits," Long Xiaoyao finally said, his voice ancient and smooth. "I am not familiar with this kind of presence. I have faced mountains before... even Di Tian, that living peak of power, never gave off such a feeling. This... is different."
A silence had just begun to settle again, heavy and metallic like the lab's soul-forged walls—when a voice, neither harsh nor gentle, but impossibly compelling, cut through the tension like silk across steel.
"If even we—those who have cultivated to the peak of mortal strength, Limit Douluos of the 99th rank—cannot comprehend this shift… Then perhaps only those who've transcended us, those who have ascended, might understand the source."
The voice paused, ever so slightly, as though expecting an echo or an assistant to complete her thought. But no such aid arrived. Still, her composure never faltered as she continued—soft, yet sharp as a hidden blade: "...Or perhaps even they are not the cause. Perhaps... they, too, cannot interfere."
The third figure, who had previously been engaged in a technical discussion with Kong Deming, stepped forward now, her aura impossible to ignore.
Ye Xishui—the Death God Douluo.
One of the three Limit Douluos alive, Supreme Sect Leader of the Holy Ghost Church, Hall Master of the Illustrious Virtue Hall, and arguably the most powerful woman in the Sun Moon Empire's secret history.
Her voice—slightly raspy, touched with an age-defying allure—carried a peculiar magic, one that disarmed hostility and lured the mind toward admiration, even when laced with venom. Her fingers, pale as porcelain, bore dark-red nails that resembled eagle talons—deadly and elegant. A paradox of life and death, beauty and menace.
She had once been pursued by both the Black and White Holy Dragons, and though many whispered of grudges or ideological divides, the truth—known to none save a few—was far more human: a triangle of love, of passion, betrayal, and unbearable guilt.
And Ye Xishui had played her part with exquisite precision.
It was she who drove the rift between Mu En and Long Xiaoyao—not with hatred, but heartbreak. And it was she who later drew Long into the shadows of the Holy Ghost Church, twisting his remorse into loyalty, naming him Grand Elder beneath her dark banner.
"Do not let your pride blind you, Deming," she said, stepping forward as her spirit tool—intricately fused with her evil soul master aura—hummed softly on her back like a heartbeat in metal. "If you cannot measure this force, then perhaps it is not meant to be measured. It is meant to be endured… or adapted."
Kong Deming scowled but did not retort. For all his disgust of her methods, even he knew better than to underestimate Lord Death God.
Long Xiaoyao exhaled faintly. His face betrayed nothing—but his silence spoke volumes.
Three of the greatest powers of the empire gathered in one room.
And all of them disturbed.