Time flew like a white steed glimpsed through a crack, fleeting and silent. Before he knew it, Marco had spent over half a year within the Spirit Hall. Outside the window, the leaves of the parasol tree had fallen and grown anew, while the training ground floor had been soaked countless times by his sweat. On this day, he sat quietly by the window, gazing at the drifting clouds in the sky, when a sudden, indescribable melancholy welled up in his heart.
"It's been... so long since I left home," he murmured softly, his fingers unconsciously stroking the warm, smooth jade pendant in his embrace – the one his mother had personally tied for him when he departed. Qing Yu seemed to sense his master's mood, gently pecking his fingers and emitting a soft, comforting chirp. Marco's mind conjured images of the old locust tree in the courtyard of his home in Heaven Dou City, his father's stern yet secretly concerned guidance, his mother's gentle admonitions, and the ever-present, warm aroma of home wafting from the kitchen. A powerful wave of homesickness washed over him, making him almost want to set off on his return journey immediately. However, he clenched his fist, suppressing this urgency. The journey was not yet over; he still needed to become stronger.
The arduous cultivation of these past six months had not been in vain. After countless failed attempts, the fusion of Soul Power and Mental Power had finally achieved a breakthrough. Now, staring at the wisp of dark azure energy swirling slowly in his palm like a living thing, he felt the familiar yet alien power contained within – this was the perfect blend of the Azure Flame's intensity and the agility of his Double Pupils' Mental Power. He had named it "Demon Storm Leg." Although this nascent power was still immature and far from being mastered in its application, the potential it held made Marco's heart surge with excitement. He resisted the impulse to immediately test its full power, knowing deeply that this would be his trump card for critical moments, not something to be revealed lightly.
It was time to leave. This thought emerged clearly in his heart.
The process of bidding farewell carried a faint tinge of sorrow. After hearing his request, a trace of imperceptible regret flashed in Qianjun Douluo's eyes, which had seen through the ways of the world. He remained silent for a moment, then his heavy hand landed gently on Marco's shoulder. "Child, the world outside is vast, but also treacherous. Remember, stay calm in the face of events, and always leave room for maneuver." Xiangmo Douluo, as boisterous as ever, slapped his back heartily, his voice booming, "Good lad! Go out and make your mark! If anyone bullies you, remember to drop my name, Xiangmo! Haha!" However, Marco keenly detected a flicker of concern and reluctance deep within this bold elder's eyes. He solemnly performed a junior's bow to these two figures who were half-masters, half-friends. This debt of gratitude, he would keep in his heart.
The audience with the High Priest, Qian Daoliu, took place in that solemn and majestic hall. Qian Daoliu stood with his back to him, his figure appearing particularly grand yet lonely under the colossal statue of the Angel God. "Leaving?" he asked without turning around, his voice calm yet possessing a penetrating insight. Marco replied respectfully. Qian Daoliu slowly turned around, his gaze like warm sunlight yet also akin to the deep sea. It rested on Marco for a long time, ultimately transforming into only a soft sigh. "Go. Your road... is still very long." In that moment, Marco felt as if...
In the eyes of this peerless Douluo, a trace of complex nostalgia and expectation could be seen.
Finally, it was the Papal Hall. Facing the woman of immense authority seated on the throne, Marco maintained just the right amount of reverence. Bibidong's gaze was as sharp as a blade, as if she intended to dissect him from the inside out. "Taking your leave? Very well," she said indifferently. "Do not forget our previous agreement. Let me see how much you have improved over these six months." Marco bowed his head in acknowledgment, understanding that this was both a farewell and a test.
The day of the final showdown arrived. The central Spirit Arena of the Spirit Hall was packed with a roaring crowd, their noise surging like tidal waves. Xie Yue, Yan, and Hu Liena were already standing on the stage, their expressions grave as if facing a formidable enemy. Xie Yue repeatedly polished the edge of his Moon Blade with his fingertips, while Yan continuously adjusted his breathing, the fiery Soul Power around him flickering erratically, betraying his inner tension. Hu Liena stood between the two, her gaze complex as she watched the figure slowly approaching from the opposite entrance. She bit her lower lip lightly, lost in thought.
Marco stepped onto the stage one pace at a time, seemingly isolated from the chaotic surroundings. His mind was unusually calm, like a deep pond. His longing for home had become the driving force behind his progress, and his clear understanding of his own strength gave him absolute confidence. He looked at the three opponents across from him, his eyes calm and unruffled.
At the referee's command, the battle erupted! Xie Yue and Yan shot forward like arrows from a bow, attacking from the left and right simultaneously! The Moon Blade traced a chilling arc, while Yan's fiery fists carried a scorching aura, instantly sealing off all of Marco's escape routes. Yet, Marco's figure seemed to transform into a wisp of azure smoke. His mastery of Shave and Moonwalk had reached perfection, allowing him to evade attacks by a hair's breadth at the last possible moment. His composure and precision drew slight nods of approval from the two elders watching from the stands.
Unable to gain the upper hand after prolonged attacks, Xie Yue and Hu Liena exchanged a glance, resolve flashing in their eyes. Their Soul Power resonated instantly, erupting in a burst of intense pink light—"Spirit Fusion Skill: Enchantress!" Mist spread, and a blurred figure with an aura far surpassing that of a Soul Ancestor emerged within the fog, exuding powerful charm and pressure. Yan roared, pushing his Soul Power to its limit, launching a fierce frontal assault to create an opening for the fusion entity.
Faced with this near-hopeless offensive, Marco finally released his Soul Rings. Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Black! The appearance of the four Soul Rings, especially the profound black ten-thousand-year Soul Ring, drew a collective gasp from the entire arena!
His figure moved! Swift as lightning, yet carrying a unique rhythm. He applied the insights of Life Return to the extreme, controlling every ounce of his body's strength with impeccable precision. His Double Pupil Eye perceived the finest details, rendering the Enchantress's illusions utterly useless in his sight. Armament Haki covered his hands and feet, while Azure Flame surged within his body, providing him with immense strength and defense.
He moved like a butterfly flitting through flowers, weaving through the Enchantress's attacks and Yan's fierce assaults. Every dodge, every block, every counterattack was precise, efficient, and concise! His fists, wrapped in Armament Haki, clashed head-on with the Enchantress's energy impacts; his legs, like steel whips, swept aside Yan's blazing heavy punches. There were no dazzling Spirit Abilities, only the most fundamental combat techniques, yet he overwhelmed the three prodigies of the Golden Generation, leaving them struggling and disheveled.
Finally, Marco seized a tiny opening in Yaomei's defense. A straight punch containing his full strength and Armament Haki broke through spatial limitations, landing directly on the fusion's core.
"Boom!"
The pink mist instantly dissipated as Hu Liena and Xie Yue stumbled backward, their faces pale. Their Martial Soul fusion had been forcibly broken. Almost simultaneously, Marco spun around and swept Yan—who was attempting to sneak attack from behind—to the ground with a fierce leg sweep.
The entire arena fell silent.
Marco stood calmly, his breathing steady as if he had just completed a light warm-up. He glanced at the three fallen opponents with unwilling and shocked expressions, nodding slightly as he spoke calmly: "My respects."
On the high platform, Bibidong's gaze was profound and inscrutable, her fingertips lightly tapping her scepter. Qianjun and Xiangmo exchanged smiles containing both relief and a trace of melancholy at their impending separation.
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