Millions of miles away from the Douluo Continent, beyond the comprehension and even the deepest imaginings of mortals, existed the Divine Realm.
It was a desolate plane, a vast, unpredictable, and raw environment where the very laws of reality were shaped and enforced by the will of the highest powers. This was not a place of comfort, but of eternal law and absolute order.
Near the sheer, jagged edge of a monolithic clifftop—a precipice that overlooked an abyss of swirling, unformed cosmic energy—stood two figures who commanded the fates of countless worlds.
The first was a towering man, his aura a chilling, powerful presence that seemed to absorb all light and warmth. He stood motionless, his gaze fixed on the turbulent void, his face set in an expression of deep, weary contemplation.
Six powerful, muscular arms, symbols of his might and authority, were neatly folded, each one radiating a silent, destructive intent. This was Asura God, the ultimate arbiter of justice, a God King, and the stern Law Enforcer of the Divine Realm, carrying the weight of cosmic management upon his broad shoulders.
Beside him stood his friend and colleague, a man with light-blue hair that flowed like a luminous, celestial river, framing a handsome, casual face. His bearing was majestic, yet relaxed, contrasting sharply with the terrifying rigidity of Asura.
This was Poseidon, the Sea God, a First Class God and a notable figure in the Divine Realm, who waited with the easy patience of someone who had seen eternity unfold countless times.
After a silence that lasted for what mortals would perceive as hours, Asura finally spoke, his voice a deep, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate the very fabric of the desolate plane.
"Poseidon," Asura began, not turning his head, "It has been… unstable. Have you felt any disturbances originating from the Douluo Continent recently?"
Poseidon sighed, a sound like soft sea foam hitting a distant shore, and adjusted his posture slightly.
"Oh, Asura, it has been ages since I heard you use that name with such urgency," Poseidon replied with casual honesty. "Truthfully, I have not. My attention has been fixed on the new worlds opening to the east. I confess, I have been remiss in monitoring my old homeland. I do not know what is happening there. Sorry."
Asura finally turned his head just enough to allow his gaze, heavy with millennia of judgment, to fall upon the Sea God.
"Poseidon," Asura said, his tone perfectly level, but carrying the unmistakable weight of senior disappointment, "It is your birthplace. It is the cradle of the Divine Realm's most unique mortal power. Do you truly have no shame for having no current knowledge of what is transpiring in your own homeland?"
Poseidon's easygoing demeanor cracked slightly, giving way to a flicker of embarrassment. He raised his hands in a gesture of concession.
"Ah, Asura, I cannot argue with the Law Enforcer's stern reprimand," he conceded with a wry smile.
"But you know how mortals are; they move too quickly for us to track unless they are on the cusp of divinity. However, I can certainly rectify that oversight. I have my direct descendants—the priests of my temples—scattered across the oceans of Douluo Continent. I shall ask them to deliver a full accounting of all major spiritual and political upheavals immediately. Will that suffice, Senior?"
Asura offered a concise nod. "Hmph. Then make sure to be quick about it. The instability I sense is growing, not diminishing."
Poseidon, his curiosity piqued by his friend's strange urgency, allowed his casualness to return. He hadn't been summoned by Asura in such a direct manner for simple administrative concerns.
"So, what is it that truly occupies your thoughts, Asura?" Poseidon asked, leaning against an outcropping of dark rock. "What could be happening on that lower plane that warrants your personal attention? And how is it related to the Douluo Continent, specifically?"
The God King's gaze drifted back toward the swirling void, and his expression softened slightly, betraying a flicker of profound regret.
"You already know about my previous chosen successor, Tang Chen, and what became of him," Asura stated, the memory clearly a source of deep pain.
Poseidon's own demeanor became instantly solemn, all trace of humor vanishing. The fate of Tang Chen was a scar upon the Divine Realm's recent history.
"Yes," Poseidon replied, his voice low and serious. "Due to the interference of that… that Madwoman, the Rakshasa God in the mortal realm, you could not pass your esteemed God Position to him. The price he paid was monstrous." He paused, allowing the gravity of the event to hang in the air.
"I know how you feel. It was an appalling tragedy orchestrated by mortal folly. But cheer up, Asura. I can see you have found another, quite suitable candidate. A master of the sword, Chen Xin, is he not? A natural fit for the spirit of your God Position."
Asura sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of celestial law itself.
"He is a good candidate, Poseidon, perhaps one of the best in generations," Asura admitted, "But he is not enough. He can handle the raw strength of the Asura God legacy, but he lacks the absolute will—the uncompromising ruthlessness required of the Law Enforcer. He cannot handle the full scope of my legacy. I wish to find a truly worthy, new successor."
He shifted his weight, his six arms moving subtly, a sign of his deep disquiet. "I have a feeling—a persistent pull in the strands of fate—that this new, perfect successor will be found on the Douluo Continent as well. But there are also new variables there, actions and counter-actions that I cannot predict. The chaos is emanating from a source that should have been predictable, yet has become a swirling vortex of unknown destiny."
Poseidon managed a small, hopeful smile, attempting to lighten the mood.
"Don't worry so much, old friend," he reassured him. "Douluo is a special place. Its mortals possess the rawest potential. Even if no new mortal has ascended since myself, I know it will happen someday. I hope you find a worthy successor soon, and truthfully, I am also actively seeking one for my God Position. My energy must be passed on before the pressures of the Divine Realm consume me entirely."
Asura finally chuckled—a rare, deep sound of grudging camaraderie.
"Yes, Poseidon. When that day arrives, we will see whose inheritor is superior in character and strength. We shall watch them clash, and let the mortals decide the victor." His humor dissolved instantly, replaced by the rigid sternness of his rank.
"But let me reiterate: make sure you ascertain the current situation there without delay. Do not be lazy all the time. The instability affects all of us."
Both the Gods shared a brief, knowing laugh—a fleeting sound of divine friendship on that desolate plane. The mortal world was blissfully unaware that the fate of their world was currently being negotiated and debated on a distant clifftop by the two most powerful beings they knew only as legends.
Back in the Spirit Hall, hours after she had begun her studies, Bibi Dong was entirely immersed in the Ancient Tome of Herbs and Plants. Her spiritual sense, heightened by her 91-level breakthrough, was now so refined that she could perceive disturbances hundreds of meters away with perfect clarity.
The Shadow-Weaver Grass is clearly the key for my Spirit, she decided, committing the exact geographical and environmental details necessary for its cultivation to memory.
Suddenly, her focus snapped taut. Two small, rapid heartbeats—and one steady, familiar aura—were approaching her residence. Her children and her clone.
Perfect timing, she thought, closing the massive book with a near-silent thud.
With the agility granted by her newly absorbed skills, she moved like a ghost. She tucked the tome back into its slightly worn place on the normal bookshelf, ensuring it was invisible among the scholastic texts. In the next instant, she executed the most crucial move: a flawless, immediate merged with her clone, who was now just entering the hall outside the room.
The transition was seamless, a rush of cold darkness followed by the immediate integration of the clone's consciousness and the influx of the day's mundane memories: a pleasant lunch, sword training, some basic soul power practice, a visit to the Grand Elder's pavilion, visiting the market and Renxue demanding a new, elaborate doll.
She stood there, now physically indistinguishable from the clone, the mask of the attentive, slightly weary mother firmly in place. Just as she stabilized her consciousness, the door opened.
Renxue rushed in first, her golden hair a bright flash of sunshine, followed by Yorrichi, who moved with a calm, almost formal pace, and finally, the clone's body, now inhabited by Bibi Dong's true mind and soul.
Renxue turned to Yorrichi, her eyes sparkling with immediate curiosity. "Brother, about the strange earring you ordered and purchased today! Did you really spend all your allowance on it?"
Yorrichi merely glanced at his sister, his expression maturely unimpressed. "It is not strange, Sister. It is aesthetically pleasing. And besides, it is far less wasteful than the fifth oversized doll you demanded, which I note you are carrying now, like some common street vendor."
Bibi Dong, forcing a smile that felt a little tight on her face, intervened gently, her true consciousness still reeling from the rapid memory absorption. "Did you two have a good day, my darlings?"
While responding to Renxue, her internal focus shifted entirely to Yorrichi. He looked slightly taller, his expression as mature and thoughtful as always, but her eyes locked onto the small, dark object adorning his earlobe: a strange, finely wrought silver earring that seemed to shimmer faintly with an energy she couldn't quite decipher. It was a new addition, something that had not been there when she left.
A strange choice for such a serious boy. Where did that come from?
Bibi Dong stared at the earring, her gaze unconsciously focused, drawing on the refined, perceptive sight granted by her strong soul power. She was gazing at her son, but the raw power of her breakthrough acted like a scrying mirror, cutting through the veil of time itself.
For a terrifying instant, her world fractured.
Her vision swam, the familiar forms of the room and her young son dissolving into a kaleidoscope of power and shadow. The innocent, five-year-old boy standing before her vanished, replaced by a blurred, overwhelming image: a lone figure standing atop a mountain, bathed in the red glow of a setting sun on a different world.
He was impossibly tall, his figure radiating a dense, terrifyingly familiar aura—not of soul power, but of pure, honed combat mastery that far exceeded anything she had ever witnessed. His hair was long, mix of dark red and black, and tied back in a distinctive, elegant ponytail.
He wore a dark, intricate uniform, crisscrossed with straps and a tattered, flowing haori. The strange clothing seemed like out of this world and for Bibi Dong, she doesn't know about it.
Crucially, the same silver earring was clearly visible, swaying gently in a phantom breeze. In his hand, he held a black, wickedly curved sword, its edge gleaming with a deadly, ethereal light. Around him, the air shimmered with the residue of impossible speed and cutting precision.
The aura emanating from this figure was not of a villain, nor even a conventional hero; it was the chilling, absolute weight of loneliness, profound sorrow, and ceaseless, devastating responsibility.
This was the aura of one who had borne the burden of an entire world's fate on his shoulders, fought insurmountable odds, and emerged victorious, yet utterly solitary. It was the aura of a silent, unyielding demon slayer who had faced down an ancient evil, not merely a soul master.
The image—the full, unbidden prophecy—flashed and vanished in less than a single, searing second.
A sharp, stabbing pain lanced through Bibi Dong's head, immediately followed by a frantic, dizzying acceleration of her heart rate. Thump-thump-THUMP. Her pulse hammered against her ribs, a violent biological reaction to see an unpredictable change.
She forced her face to remain utterly placid, maintaining the gentle, maternal smile. Her spiritual power instantly suppressed the internal chaos.
Calm. Now. Control, she commanded herself.
Renxue continued chatting happily, oblivious to the fact that her mother had just glimpsed the terrifying, lonely past of her brother. Yorrichi merely met her gaze, his own eyes calm and intelligent, sensing nothing more than a slight tension in her expression. Bibi Dong swallowed, the residual metallic taste of adrenaline fading
"Yes, my darlings," Bibi Dong said, her voice even, her smile firmly fixed. "Go and rest for some time after this long day. I will join you shortly."
With her heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm, Bibi Dong went out of the room with her mind occupied and focusing on what she had seen earlier.
---------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note:
Ah, our OP character is entering slowly in this story. Make sure to tell me whether it's good starting or not, many more will come next. Just wait and watch.