Chen Yu's breath caught in his throat as he pressed himself against the crumbling wall of the shrine, the cold stone biting into his back. The footsteps outside were faint, deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. The hum in his chest was a frantic pulse, urging him to move, to run, but he forced himself to stay still, peering through the crack in the wall. The cloaked figure lingered just beyond the shrine, a shadow in the moonlight, too tall and too silent to be a villager. It wasn't Spirit Hall—their white robes were unmistakable, even at night. This was something else, something tied to the sphere's strange power, and the realization sent a shiver down his spine.
He held his breath, mind racing. The novels had mentioned rogue soul masters, bandits, even spirit beasts that could take human form at high ranks. But in a backwater village like this, so close to Spirit Hall's influence? It didn't add up. The hum pulsed again, sharp and insistent, like a warning from the sphere itself. Whatever was out there, it was drawn to his martial soul, and he'd been reckless to practice here, so exposed.
The footsteps stopped, and the silence was worse, heavy with intent. Chen Yu's small hands trembled as he weighed his options. Stay and hide, risking discovery, or run and hope his six-year-old legs could outpace whatever was stalking him. The village was too far to reach without being seen, and the forest was no safer—low-level soul beasts roamed at night, and he had no combat skills. But he couldn't stay here, trapped like a rat.
He crept toward the shrine's back entrance, a narrow gap where the roof had collapsed. The vines crunched softly under his feet, and he winced, praying the sound didn't carry. The hum in his chest was loud now, almost painful, and he clamped down on it, afraid the sphere's aura would give him away. He squeezed through the gap, emerging into the cool night air, and ducked behind a cluster of bushes. The cloaked figure was still there, motionless, facing the shrine as if sensing something.
Chen Yu's heart pounded as he crawled through the grass, moving toward the village's edge. The fields were open, offering little cover, but if he could reach the houses, he might blend into the shadows. He moved slowly, every rustle of leaves making him freeze. The figure didn't follow, but its presence lingered, a pressure that weighed on his senses. He was halfway to the village when a low, guttural sound broke the silence—a growl, not human, but not quite beast either.
He bolted, his small legs pumping as he sprinted across the field. The village lights were distant, flickering like stars, and his breath came in ragged gasps. The growl came again, closer, and he risked a glance back. The cloaked figure was moving now, gliding across the ground with unnatural speed, its form blurring in the moonlight. Chen Yu's stomach dropped. This wasn't a soul master—it was something else, something the novels hadn't prepared him for.
The hum in his chest flared, and without thinking, he summoned the sphere, its iridescent glow lighting up the field. He didn't know why—instinct, maybe, or the sphere itself urging him to act. He channeled a burst of soul power, and the air rippled, a faint vibration pushing outward. The grass bent, and a nearby rock trembled, rolling away. The figure slowed, its cloak billowing as if caught in a sudden wind, and Chen Yu felt a surge of hope. The sphere's power was affecting it, buying him time.
He ran harder, his vision blurring with exhaustion. The village was closer now, the first houses just beyond a low fence. He leaped over it, landing hard on the cobblestone path, and darted into an alley between two houses. His chest burned, the sphere's hum wild and chaotic, but he didn't dare dismiss it. The figure was still out there—he could feel it, like a shadow stretching across his mind.
He crouched behind a stack of crates, catching his breath. The alley was dark, smelling of damp wood and rotting vegetables, and the village was quiet, its residents asleep. He strained his ears, listening for the growl, the footsteps, but there was nothing. Had he lost it? Or was it waiting, biding its time?
The sphere hovered above his palm, its glow dimmer now, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He focused, trying to calm the hum, but it was restless, almost angry. The presence was stronger than ever, and that voice—*Seek*—echoed in his mind, clearer this time. A vision flashed: the starry void, countless spheres spinning, and that single bright star, pulsing with a power that felt both familiar and alien.
He shook his head, dismissing the sphere. The pain in his chest eased, but the exhaustion was bone-deep. He couldn't keep running like this, not without understanding what was after him. Was it the sphere's power drawing attention, like a beacon in the dark? Or was it tied to the "old" aura Liu Mei had mentioned, something ancient that Spirit Hall feared?
A soft crunch of gravel made him freeze. He peered around the crates, his heart in his throat. A figure stood at the alley's entrance—not the cloaked shadow, but Lin Xiao, her braid swaying as she scanned the darkness. Her eyes locked onto him, and she motioned for him to stay quiet, creeping closer.
"What are you doing out here?" she whispered, crouching beside him. Her dagger martial soul shimmered faintly in her hand, its blade small but sharp. "I saw you running like a soul beast was after you."
"Maybe one was," Chen Yu muttered, his voice shaky. "Something was out there, near the shrine. Not human. Not Spirit Hall either."
Lin Xiao's eyes narrowed. "You were practicing again, weren't you? Your soul's aura—it's like a flare to anything with soul power. You're lucky it wasn't a spirit beast."
"It wasn't," Chen Yu said, his mind racing. "It was… something else. Cloaked, fast. It stopped when I used my soul."
Lin Xiao frowned, gripping her dagger tighter. "That's not good. There's rumors of rogue soul masters in the forest—outcasts, not part of Spirit Hall. Some say they hunt kids with strong souls, steal their power. Your sphere's probably like a feast to them."
Chen Yu's blood ran cold. The novels hadn't mentioned anything like that, but Douluo Dalu was a big world, full of dangers Tang San never faced. "Why are you out here?" he asked, deflecting. "You keep showing up."
She smirked, but it was strained. "Couldn't sleep. Figured I'd practice my dagger throws. Then I saw you sprinting across the field like an idiot. Come on, we need to get you back before Gao Lin or that Sage notices you're gone."
He nodded, too tired to argue. They slipped through the alleys, sticking to the shadows, and reached the orphanage without incident. Lin Xiao paused at the door, her expression serious. "Whatever's after you, it's not random. Your soul's drawing things—people, beasts, maybe worse. You need to figure out what it is, fast, or you're gonna end up dead."
"Thanks for the pep talk," Chen Yu said dryly, but he was grateful. Lin Xiao was nosy, but she'd saved him from being caught, maybe worse. "You really think it's rogue soul masters?"
"Maybe," she said, shrugging. "Or maybe it's tied to that 'old' aura the Sage mentioned. Either way, Spirit Hall's not your only problem now. Watch your back."
She vanished into the night, leaving Chen Yu alone at the orphanage door. He slipped inside, his heart still racing, and collapsed onto his mat. The hum in his chest was quieter now, but it was there, a constant reminder of the sphere's power—and its danger. The Spirit Sage's test loomed tomorrow, and something was hunting him. He needed answers, but every step deeper into his soul's secrets seemed to pull him closer to a cliff's edge.
As he closed his eyes, the voice whispered again—*Seek*—and the starry void flickered in his mind, that bright star pulsing like a beacon. He didn't know what it meant, but one thing was clear: his martial soul wasn't just a tool. It was a key, and whatever it unlocked was drawing predators from the shadows.
Sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of cloaked figures and a sky full of spinning spheres, each one whispering his name.