Ever since that day when they helped Yunchuan obtain his soul rings, Bibi Dong and the elder Douluos had spent time investigating why he still couldn't lift his Supreme Clear Sky Hammer. The conclusion they reached was simple: his body was too weak. After all, he was only six years old—still far from fully developed.
That meant his current top priority wasn't increasing soul power or rushing to fill out five soul rings. It was strengthening his physical body.
Yunchuan fully agreed.
There was no point in chasing more soul rings yet. He could tell—the moment he absorbed a ring, it added certain benefits, increasing his strength and endurance. But at the same time, it also brought tremendous internal pressure. His young body could barely handle the power of the two ten-thousand-year rings he'd already absorbed.
Any more, and he'd risk literal internal collapse. His soul channels would rupture from the strain.
It was like someone carrying 50 kilograms who tried to strap on another 50—inevitable failure. If your body couldn't handle it, no amount of raw soul power could save you.
As for being stuck at rank 50? That didn't bother him.
In fact, he found it kind of funny.
Innate rank 50 soul power—what did that mean?
It meant cultivating his soul level was no harder than breathing. Even if he took it slow, he'd be sprinting past everyone else in no time. When you had talent like his, the idea of being "on par" with others was a joke.
He didn't need to rush at all.
Other soul masters had to cling to every hour, desperate to squeeze out improvements in their youth. Not Yunchuan. With his foundation, even casual training would skyrocket his power.
He had no rivals among peers—only a destiny to fulfill.
So, for now, he wouldn't force more rings. The answer was clear: strengthen the body, until it could carry the hammer's power.
The two rings he already had did improve him in part, but not nearly enough for a third ring of equal strength. He needed more time.
This whole situation annoyed him. He should have been able to absorb five ten-thousand-year soul rings. That was his birthright.
But just because he could, didn't mean his six-year-old body could withstand it.
And so, the next step of his journey began—physical training.
On Bibi Dong's strict but loving orders, Yunchuan officially began his bodily refinement.
…
Morning sunlight spilled into the sky.
The golden glow of dawn washed over Spirit Hall as Yunchuan blinked blearily awake, rubbing his eyes before staggering into the washroom. After a few minutes of brushing his teeth and refreshing his face, he changed out of his soft pajamas into a snug training outfit.
Then, his mother took his tiny hand, and the two went to share a hearty, nutritious breakfast.
After eating and resting a bit, Bibi Dong scooped him lovingly into her arms and took to the skies.
Warm morning wind mixed with the scent of grass and earth, brushing across his face as the scenery below stretched wide. A peaceful, open world—perfect for what lay ahead.
They landed on a dirt trail just outside of Spirit City. The road ran in a straight line, vanishing toward the horizon. Its length seemed endless.
Gently, Bibi Dong set her son down and reached into her soul tool, extracting an item—a black vest, simple in design but unnaturally dense.
"Mom, what is this?" Yunchuan asked as he took the vest. The moment it landed in his palms, the weight yanked them down. His knees almost buckled—he barely stopped himself from falling outright.
His small face twitched. 'This thing's gotta weigh hundreds of jins! What the hell is it made of?!'
"That," Bibi Dong said softly, pointing to the distant road, "is what you'll wear when you run that entire path every day."
She crouched beside him with a gentle smile. "Mom believes you can handle it."
In a world like Douluo, where body-cultivation arts didn't exist, soul masters had only one option for physical training: the classics. Running. Lifting. Weighted resistance. Basic fitness principles—but effective when paired with soul power and durability from soul rings.
It wasn't fancy—but it worked.
Still, Yunchuan's face scrunched into a grimace. "Mom… I'm only six. If I carry something this heavy every day, won't I… not grow tall?"
He looked at her with pitiful, teary eyes. "Can't I start with something lighter? Maybe just a few jins... or even a dozen? But hundreds? My little body can't take that!"
In that moment, all the confidence from being a peerless genius vanished. He looked like a wronged puppy.
This wasn't how things played out in the cultivation novels he'd read. Weren't there supposed to be heavenly flames, sacred bloodlines, body-tempering formations?
Instead—running with a weighted vest?
This couldn't be more mundane! Douluo Continent really was low-tier fantasy…
Bibi Dong's heart softened a little. Her baby's voice was so sweet, and his expression so pitiful, part of her actually considered reducing the weight. But rationality prevailed.
Raising a son without strength was worse than not raising one at all.
She gently rubbed his head. "Don't worry, it won't hurt your growth."
Besides, for a boy with rank 50 innate soul power and two ten-thousand-year rings already absorbed, this weight was right at the edge of what he could handle—not excessive at all. It would be hard, yes. Exhausting. But perfectly within his capacity.
And the results would be transformative.
As for the "won't grow tall" concern? Pure nonsense. In all Spirit Hall's records, there had never been a single soul master who failed to grow simply because they trained too hard.
With soul power in the body, the only direction your height went was up.
Therefore, his attempt to talk his way out of it utterly failed.
Sullen and resigned, Yunchuan put on the vest, the crushing weight sagging across his tiny shoulders. He almost fell again.
Then, under Bibi Dong's gaze, he started to run.
At first…it wasn't so bad.
With his soul power buffs and reinforced body, the few hundred jins of metal weren't much. He even thought, 'Huh, not as bad as I expected. I might've overreacted.'
But after a few minutes…
It changed.
His legs grew heavier. The vest more crushing by the step. His speed slowed until he was trudging.
"Huff… huffhuff…"
His breathing turned ragged. His vision swam with stars. He could feel his stamina burning out rapidly.
That vest wasn't just weight—it was punishment.
Every step was war. And the road ahead… still vanished toward infinity.
He glanced forward.
He couldn't even see the end.
Should he… stop for a break? Just for a bit?
'Mom didn't say I had to finish it without resting… right?'
'She said run to the end—that's it.'
'Just a short break… what could it hurt?'
For the first time…
Doubt crept into his heart.
(End of Chapter)