Chen Yu woke with a start, the hum in his chest sharper than usual, like a warning bell cutting through the fog of sleep. The orphanage was quiet, the other children still curled on their mats, their breaths soft in the predawn gloom. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, his mind replaying Lin Xiao's words from the night before. A Spirit Sage was coming—someone far beyond Instructor Gao Lin or even Deacon Wei. A rank seventy soul master could crush him without blinking, and if they were investigating his martial soul, they wouldn't settle for vague answers. He needed to be ready, but ready for what? He barely understood his own power.
He slipped out of bed, pulling on his tunic and moving silently to avoid waking anyone. Old Mei's snores echoed from the next room, a small mercy. Outside, the village was shrouded in mist, the air cool and damp against his skin. He headed for the square, where training would start soon, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The sphere's presence had grown stronger each time he summoned it, and that vision of a starry void haunted him. It wasn't just a martial soul—it was something ancient, something Spirit Hall would want to control or destroy.
Instructor Gao Lin was already in the square when Chen Yu arrived, standing beside a wooden training dummy marked with chalk targets. Liang Hao was there too, stretching his lanky arms with a grin. "Early for once, Yu? Thought you'd sleep through again."
Chen Yu shrugged, forcing a casual tone. "Didn't want to miss the fun."
Gao Lin's eyes flicked to him, sharp as ever. "Good. Today's about precision. You'll channel soul power into your movements, not just your martial souls. Accuracy matters as much as strength in a fight." He pointed to the dummy. "Hit the targets. Small bursts of soul power, no waste. Liang Hao, you first."
Liang Hao stepped forward, summoning his wolf pup martial soul. The small, shimmering beast hovered above his shoulder, snarling softly. He focused, his face scrunched in concentration, and threw a punch at the dummy. A faint ripple of soul power followed, striking the chalk circle on the dummy's chest. The impact was weak, barely denting the wood, but the crowd of early risers watching from the square's edge clapped politely.
"Sloppy," Gao Lin said, crossing his arms. "Your soul power scattered. Focus it like a needle, not a wave. Again."
Liang Hao tried again, his next punch sharper but still off-target. Chen Yu watched, his mind half on the exercise and half on his own problems. He couldn't afford to stand out today, not with a Spirit Sage on the way. But hiding his strength was risky too—Gao Lin already suspected he was holding back.
"Your turn, Chen Yu," Gao Lin said, his voice cutting through Chen Yu's thoughts. "Show me control."
Chen Yu stepped forward, his heart pounding. He didn't summon the sphere—too risky in front of Gao Lin—but he reached for the hum in his chest, channeling a thin stream of soul power into his fist. He aimed for the chalk target, picturing the energy as a thread, tight and focused. His punch landed, and a faint pulse of soul power hit the dummy, cracking the wood slightly around the target.
The crowd murmured, and Gao Lin's eyebrow rose. "Better. But you're still restraining yourself. Why?"
Chen Yu's mouth went dry. "I'm just trying to get it right, sir. Don't want to overdo it."
Gao Lin's gaze lingered, but he nodded. "Fine. Keep practicing. Precision over power for now."
The morning dragged on, with Gao Lin pushing them through drills—punches, kicks, even dodges against imaginary attacks. Chen Yu kept his soul power restrained, mimicking Liang Hao's clumsiness to avoid drawing attention. But every time he channeled the energy, the sphere's presence stirred, eager, almost impatient. It was like a dog pulling at a leash, and keeping it in check was exhausting.
By midday, Gao Lin called a break. Liang Hao flopped onto the ground, groaning, while Chen Yu sat quietly, sipping water from a clay cup. The square was busier now, villagers bustling through the market, their chatter a constant drone. Chen Yu scanned the crowd, half-expecting to see Lin Xiao or the shadow from the forest, but there was nothing unusual—just farmers and traders going about their day.
"Chen Yu," Gao Lin said, his voice low as he approached. "A word. Alone."
Chen Yu's stomach twisted, but he followed the instructor to the edge of the square, away from the crowd. Gao Lin's expression was unreadable, his eyes scanning Chen Yu like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "You're hiding something," he said bluntly. "Your soul power is too strong for your age, and your control is too precise for a village orphan with no training. Who taught you?"
Chen Yu's mind raced. He couldn't tell the truth—that he was a reincarnated soul with memories of another world—but he needed a believable lie. "No one, sir," he said, meeting Gao Lin's gaze. "I've just… practiced on my own. Watched the older kids, like I said."
Gao Lin's eyes narrowed. "Practiced on your own? With a relic-type soul? Don't insult me, boy. That sphere of yours—it's not just unusual. It's dangerous. I felt its aura yesterday, and it's not something a child should wield."
Chen Yu's heart pounded, but he kept his face calm. "I don't know what it is, sir. I'm just trying to learn."
Gao Lin studied him for a long moment, then stepped back. "Spirit Hall will find out what you're hiding. A representative arrives tomorrow—a Spirit Sage from the city. They'll test your soul themselves. If you're holding back, they'll know. Be ready."
Chen Yu nodded, his throat tight. "Yes, sir."
Gao Lin turned away, leaving Chen Yu standing alone, the weight of the words sinking in. A Spirit Sage tomorrow. He had one day to prepare, one day to figure out how to hide the sphere's true nature—or at least control it enough to seem unremarkable. But how? Every time he used it, it revealed more of its strangeness, and that vision of the starry void kept haunting him, a clue he couldn't decipher.
He rejoined Liang Hao for the afternoon session, which focused on dodging and footwork. Gao Lin had them weave through a series of wooden poles, channeling soul power to boost their speed. Liang Hao stumbled often, his wolf pup flickering in and out, but Chen Yu moved with careful precision, letting just enough soul power flow to keep up without standing out. The effort left him drained, his small body aching by the time Gao Lin dismissed them at dusk.
Liang Hao clapped him on the shoulder as they left the square. "You're too good at this, Yu. Save some talent for the rest of us, yeah?"
Chen Yu forced a laugh, but his mind was elsewhere. He needed to practice again, to push the sphere's limits before the Spirit Sage arrived. The barn was too risky, and the hill where he'd met Lin Xiao wasn't private enough. He needed somewhere new, somewhere no one would look.
As the village settled into evening, he slipped away, heading toward the western edge where an old well stood, half-forgotten and surrounded by tall grass. It was far from the main paths, hidden by a copse of trees, and the well's stone walls offered some cover. He crouched beside it, the air cool and heavy with the scent of moss. Closing his eyes, he summoned the sphere.
The hum flared, and the sphere appeared, its iridescent surface shimmering in the dim light. He channeled soul power into it, slower this time, testing its response. The air rippled, and a blade of grass bent toward the sphere, then snapped upright as he adjusted the flow. The presence was there, stronger now, almost speaking—a wordless curiosity that pressed against his mind. He focused, trying to shape the ripple, and the sphere pulsed, sending a low vibration through the ground. A pebble nearby rolled, then hovered an inch above the dirt.
Chen Yu's breath caught. He pushed harder, and the sphere grew, its hum becoming a deep, resonant tone. The air warped, and the well's stones creaked, as if squeezed by an invisible hand. Pain flared in his chest, but he held on, feeling the sphere's power bend the space around it. Then, a flash—a vision of the starry void again, but clearer. Countless spheres spun in the darkness, each pulsing with light, and a voice, faint but real, whispered: *Seek.*
He gasped, cutting off the soul power. The sphere vanished, and he fell to his knees, his head throbbing. The voice had been real, not his imagination. His martial soul wasn't just alive—it was trying to tell him something. But what? And why now?
A twig snapped behind him, and he spun, heart racing. The trees were dark, their branches swaying in the breeze, but no one was there. Or so he thought. The hum in his chest pulsed, sharp and urgent, and he knew—he wasn't alone. Someone, or something, was watching, and tomorrow, the Spirit Sage would come. Time was running out.