The next morning, Xin rose before the first sliver of sunlight pierced the mist-laden sky. His body still ached faintly, his movements slower than he liked, but his mind was sharper than ever—clear, focused, and brimming with intention.
Today was the beginning.
He slipped into his outer robe, woven from lightweight silks dyed the deep green of his Clan's colors, and made his way through the twisting paths of the compound toward his father's courtyard.
The Dugu Clan Residence was more fortress than home, nestled deep within the swamps of the Moonveil Marshes. Shrouded in pale, shifting fog and perched on ancient, root-entwined stone foundations, the compound had the look of something that belonged to a forgotten age—proud and haunted. Towering trees, their bark etched with talismanic symbols, loomed around the estate like silent guardians.
The clan was situated on the eastern coast of Aurellan—a vast and ancient island nation east of the Douluo Continent. Isolated by violent, whirlpool-ridden seas and encircled by a living chain of sentient aquatic Soul Beasts, Aurellan was a land the mainland whispered of but rarely touched.
Its Spirit Energy was dense, potent, and elemental in nature. Fire bloomed hotter here. Ice cut deeper. Even poison ran purer. It was no surprise that Aurellan produced some of the world's most powerful elemental martial souls and Spirit Masters.
And once, the Dugu Clan had been counted among the nation's brightest stars.
One of the Seven Great Noble Families. Founders. Protectors. Wielders of venomous spirits with unparalleled power.
But that was long ago.
Now, their ancestral Ducial title had been stripped, and they'd been demoted to one of the Four Archon Families—a station still noble but far from sovereign. Their line was dwindling, their name sustained by the reputation of a single man.
Dugu Bo.
The future Poison Douluo. A walking storm of venom, Poison and strength. The last pillar of their legacy—and the only reason the Dugu name hadn't already faded into history.
And now, Xin. A single frail boy who bore the same cursed spirit and the same doomed fate.
Or so the world believed.
When Xin arrived in the dining room, his father was already seated, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his face. Despite the calm mask, Xin could feel the tension radiating from him like heat from a kettle on the verge of boiling over.
"Good morning, Father," Xin said, bowing slightly before taking his seat.
"Today is your Awakening Ceremony," Dugu Bo said, his voice laced with cautious optimism. "As long as you possess soul power, we can extend your life. Perhaps even cure the poison. After that, we'll sit down together. You'll decide the path you want to walk, and I'll offer you guidance as your father and as your elder."
Xin simply nodded, offering a quiet smile. There were a thousand things he wanted to say—comforts, reassurances, clever little insights about his spirit—but in the end, he said nothing. Words wouldn't calm Dugu Bo's fear. Only results would.
So, he ate quietly, doing what the former Xin had always done.
After the meal, they walked together to the ancestral hall. The scent of old wood and burning incense filled the air, heavy with history. The long corridor was lined with portraits—each one depicting the cold eyes and stern faces of past Dugu Clan leaders. Their expressions stared down like judges from beyond the veil.
At the center of the room stood a stone altar, carved with ancient runes and stained by age. Atop it rested a single, transparent crystal ball—small enough to fit a child's palm, glowing faintly with an inner light.
"Go stand in front of the altar," Dugu Bo instructed, his voice lower now, steadying himself.
Xin obeyed, walking to the center and standing before the crystal.
"Close your eyes," Dugu Bo continued, stepping around to the opposite side of the altar. "Focus within yourself. Reach for that connection. Your spirit will answer."
A warm hand pressed to Xin's head—Dugu Bo's own spirit power flowing gently into him like a stream guiding a spark to flame.
Xin closed his eyes.
And immediately, he saw them.
Golden eyes.
Ancient, inhuman, and chillingly intelligent. The eyes of something that stood atop the food chain—not just a predator, but a sovereign of death itself. And yet… they looked at him with familiarity. Not warmth, exactly, but acceptance. As if to say, you are mine, and I am yours.
So this is what it feels like… Xin thought.
The serpent slithered into view, vast and majestic. Its scales were iridescent, shimmering with a pale jade hue tinged with glacial silver. Mist clung to its body like a second skin, a blend of poison and frost coiling in the air around it.
Dugu Bo's eyes widened, his usually stoic demeanor barely containing the shock.
'This… this isn't a standard Jade Phosphor Serpent,' he thought. 'But it's not the Serpent Emperor either… The scales are lighter. And… Ice-type energy? This is a mutation. A form—and not a negative one either. Control system would still be his best bet, but Defense would work as well.'
Outwardly, he said nothing. His voice was calm as he spoke.
"Good. Now, place your hand on the crystal."
Xin nodded and stepped forward, lifting his right hand.
But neither of them noticed it—that flicker. Deep within Xin's spirit realm, something stirred behind the serpent. A second presence. Dormant, shadowed, but ancient. Its form shifted for only a moment, then was swallowed whole by the serpent's aura, hidden away as if waiting for the right time to emerge.
The moment Xin's fingers brushed the crystal, a sudden pull surged through the room. The orb flared with a blinding light, casting shadows of ancestral portraits across the walls.
The crystal glowed brilliantly, illuminating the entire hall in waves of pale green and icy blue.
Dugu Bo stepped back, stunned.
"Innate Full Spirit Power…" he breathed.
He stared at his son—no, his heir—with eyes that shimmered with emotion.
"Xin… You have Innate Full Spirit Power! With this, you can become a Spirit Master!"
Xin tried to maintain his calm, but the awe in his father's voice lit something inside him. He had read about this moment. Studied it. Memorized the lore from manhua, donghua, forums, and theorycrafting. But none of it could have prepared him for this.
The pride in Dugu Bo's eyes. The subtle tremble in his voice. The joy barely held in check by years of cultivated stoicism.
"Innate Full Spirit Power only happens once in a century. And your martial spirit—" Dugu Bo stepped closer, inspecting the serpent coiled behind his son, its eyes watching him like a wary monarch. "—is unlike any our family has ever seen. It carries both poison and ice. This may be the first true dual elemental variant of our bloodline."
Xin lowered his hand slowly, his heart pounding with restrained emotion. And yet, in the back of his mind, he felt it.
That second presence again.
Because whatever it was… it was his, too.
With a smile still lingering on his face, Dugu Bo folded his arms and looked over at his son.
"Speaking of which," he said, voice warm but edged with curiosity, "It would be inappropriate to keep calling your Spirit a 'Jade Phosphor Serpent.' The presence of Ice energy in its bloodline essence makes it something a little different. What do you think?"
Xin met his father's gaze, golden eyes reflecting the same depth and clarity mirrored across generations.
'On Earth, jade came in many forms,' Xin mused. 'Jadeite, nephrite… and within jadeite alone, the Imperial Green was the most treasured—pure, vibrant, almost luminescent. This is the shade that resembles Father's Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor. But my spirit…'
He closed his eyes and focused inward.
There it was.
Coiled and graceful, the serpent hovered just before him in his inner world. No longer a towering beast like in the awakening vision, but a young, elegant creature, no larger than a retriever—still growing. Its scales glimmered with a translucent green so rich it looked sculpted from precious stone, but within that green, fine crystal threads of white shimmered like veins of ice flowing through jade.
The serpent raised its head, golden eyes locking with his. It let out a soft hiss—gentle, affectionate.
Xin smiled softly.
"Glacial Phosphor Serpent," he said aloud, opening his eyes.
Dugu Bo studied him for a moment, then nodded. "A good name."
For a brief moment, pride shone in his expression. But it flickered. And then, it faded. The light in his golden eyes dimmed as the weight of reality returned.
The poison. The clock.
"Xin," Dugu Bo said more solemnly now, stepping closer. "You've read those cultivation books I gave you—probably memorized them. So I won't bore you with the basics. You'll need to discover your path as you walk it."
He placed a firm hand on Xin's head, the warmth of his calloused palm grounding, protective.
"In three days, we head to Doku Swamp. It's one of the most dangerous places on the continent. Even Spirit Kings avoid it unless necessary. The poison mist there is so thick it corrodes the lungs of ordinary beasts, and some of the creatures that live in it have been mutated by exposure for centuries. You'll find everything—from parasitic plants to venomous reptiles to amphibians with Spirit cores older than some cities."
He stepped back, turning toward the door, his robes swaying behind him.
"So," he added, "when you return to your room, read everything you can about the swamp. Pick the type of Spirit Beast you'd want your first ring to come from. I'll handle the rest."
With that, he left the ancestral hall, his figure vanishing into the morning mist that seeped through the outer courtyard.
Xin followed after, his footsteps quiet, but his mind loud.
'Tang San…' he thought, walking through the compound. 'He came from another world—one of swords, soul force, hidden weapons, another cultivator reborn into this cultivation world. He already understood the language of power here.'
He exhaled.
'But me? I come from modern Earth. A professor and a Marine. I understand systems, biology, and theory. I know how to kill—but I've never fought for cultivation. My understanding of this world is academic. I've read the series many times but… not practical.'
His steps slowed as he approached his room, glancing up at the familiar wooden beams, the place where both past and present lives now slept.
'Still… I know reptiles. I know anatomy. Venom glands, heat regulation, muscle coils, and feeding patterns. I know how real snakes fight, hunt, and defend. And if my spirit is a reflection of me, then I don't just need power—I need to refine that power and understand that power. Sculpt it like an artist, not just a warrior.'
Later that day, Dugu Xin made his way back to his father's courtyard, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on every step.
'In this world… there is only one person who will help me,' Xin thought. 'Only one person who loves me enough to gamble everything. My life is already in his hands—there's nothing else left to lose.'
He approached slowly. The afternoon sun filtered through the marsh fog, casting a muted golden light across the courtyard's stone floor. There, standing at the edge of the pavilion, was Dugu Bo—his green robe fluttering lightly in the wind, the same wind that seemed to carry the scent of old regrets.
Xin stopped a few feet behind him.
"Father," he called softly.
Dugu Bo turned, his sharp golden gaze meeting his son's. That gaze had faced kings and assassins without flinching, but now it faltered. What he saw in Xin's eyes wasn't just intellect—it was desperation.
"What's on your mind, Xin'er?" he asked, voice low and guarded.
Xin's voice was steady but heavy.
"Father… the way things are going now, I will die by twenty-seven."
The words struck like a blade.
Dugu Bo didn't speak, but Xin saw it immediately—how his eyes dimmed, how the fragile hope birthed from his son's awakening was already crumbling under the weight of reality.
Xin continued, unwavering.
"The only way I see myself surviving… is if you become a Titled Douluo within twenty years. With your talent, it's possible, but while you're ascending, I'll be deteriorating. Maybe you'll delay it with your spirit power. Maybe you'll buy me time."
He took a breath.
"But we both know that's not enough."
Dugu Bo didn't look at him. His eyes had lowered, focused on the floor, as if it held all the sins he could no longer bear.
"The fact that a child like yourself has already come to this conclusion," he murmured, "proves that I've failed. I've failed as a father. I couldn't protect your mother. I couldn't protect you. Even now, your future is a race against death… and I can't even promise I'll win."
The weight of guilt hung between them like a stormcloud.
But Xin wasn't done.
He took a step forward.
"Not only can a Titled Douluo save me, but anything with power on that level can. Do you understand what that means, Father?"
Dugu Bo lifted his head slowly. His brows furrowed. The gears began to turn.
Then his eyes widened.
"No… no, you're not suggesting—" he stepped forward, hands clenched—"a 100,000-year-old Spirit Beast?!"
The words echoed through the courtyard.
Dugu Bo's voice trembled with fury—but not at Xin. At the truth.
"You want your first ring to be a 100,000-year-old Spirit Ring?! That's suicide! It's been tried before! Those Spirit Beasts aren't just powerful—they reject the weak! Their will alone can crush a soul. Everyone who's ever tried has died, Xin! There are limits, and this one is absolute!"
Xin met his father's anger with calm.
"I know," he said, quiet but firm. "But what if one doesn't reject me? What if it's willing?"
Dugu Bo stared at him, stunned. "…Willing? What madness are you—"
Xin raised a hand, cutting him off.
"Spirit Souls, Father. The kind that choose their master. The kind that don't just give one ring, but seven. I've read the theories in your collection. I've studied the old scrolls. There are ancient accounts, long dismissed as myth, of Spirit Beasts that bonded instead of resisting."
He stepped closer.
"I don't want you to think of this as blind desperation. I've already considered everything. Risks. Possibilities. Failures. But the only path to my survival—the one that doesn't destroy you along the way—is this."
He met his father's gaze, and for the first time, Dugu Bo didn't see a child.
He saw a cultivator. A strategist. Someone who wasn't afraid to defy heaven itself.
"I'm not asking for the impossible," Xin said softly. "I'm asking for your help to survive the impossible. If you become a Spirit Douluo first, then help me, we can significantly increase the success of my first ring being a 100,000-Year-old Ring."
Dugu Bo said nothing for a long moment. The wind passed between them, rustling the leaves, carrying the scent of wild lotus and swamp gas.
And then, slowly, Dugu Bo exhaled.
"…There's one place," he said. "One corner of Doku Swamp even I have never entered. The fog there is so thick it's green-black. Almost a living being. I've heard rumors of extremely powerful beasts dwelling deep in the heart of the marsh…. Some Old, Ancient Things. Monsters that have been alive far longer than any human."
He looked down at his son.
"If what you say is true, then perhaps that's where we'll find the Spirit you need."
Xin's heart pounded.
"Then that's where we go."
Beyond the enclosed walls of the inner residence, the sprawling Dugu Clan grounds opened into tranquil beauty—a large, mirror-like lake stretched before them, its surface disturbed only by the occasional ripple of a breeze. Rock gardens, trees with gnarled branches, and elegant blossoms framed the edges. Bridges and galleries snaked across the estate like veins of tradition, connecting ancient halls and pavilions where time itself seemed to slow.
Dugu Bo and Dugu Xin walked in silence, their steps measured, their shadows long beneath the slanting rays of afternoon light. They arrived at the central pavilion—an octagonal structure built above the lake, its dark wood aged and smooth from centuries of meditation, cultivation, and contemplation.
As they sat across from one another, a breeze passed between them, carrying the scent of lotus and mist.
"A breakthrough of ten ranks at once..." Xin murmured, watching the water below, "...will be incredibly difficult to overcome. Your body might not be able to handle it."
Dugu Bo lifted his teacup, the warmth in his hand contrasting the growing chill in his heart. He didn't respond immediately—he simply studied his son, truly seeing him now, not as a child sheltered by illness, but as a Spirit Master who was ready to gamble everything, even his life, for a chance at survival…
Xin's gaze remained calm, noble in its stillness. Then, he spoke again.
"Father… our Clan's cultivation method—it's flawed."
Dugu Bo's brows twitched slightly, the instinct to defend their heritage flickering in his chest—but Xin continued, pulling a tightly rolled parchment from within his robe.
"Before you say anything… I know it's nothing more than the thoughts of a layman. But I wrote this last night. It might help us... or at least, you. Would you try it?"
For a long moment, Dugu Bo said nothing. Then, with the slow grace of a seasoned nobleman, he accepted the parchment.
He unrolled it, eyes scanning the lines—meticulous notations, detailed diagrams of meridian flow, poison manipulation techniques, and a revolutionary restructuring of the internal Spirit Energy cycle. It was foreign… yet familiar. Dangerous… yet brilliant.
Xin sipped his tea quietly, watching his father from beneath long lashes, his expression unreadable.
Then, suddenly, Dugu Bo stood.
Without a word, he walked to the far end of the pavilion, sitting cross-legged on the polished stone floor. He closed his eyes.
The lake stilled.
A hush settled over the air.
Then—boom.
A soft yet distinct wave of Spirit Energy burst from his body, rustling the pavilion's drapes and disturbing the surface of the lake like a silent drumbeat.
Dugu Bo's eyes snapped open, and he stared at his own hands in disbelief.
"Wha—I've… advanced to Rank 72."
His voice was barely above a whisper, but the weight it carried was immense. Less than three months ago, he had broken through to Rank 71. That alone had required intense effort and bitter cultivation. But now… in a matter of minutes, he had ascended another rank.
Yet joy did not touch his face.
Instead, his expression grew grave.
He looked across the pavilion—at the boy who sat with flawless etiquette, back straight, fingers resting lightly on the porcelain teacup. Calm. Still. Unshaken.
Too unshaken.
'This son of mine…' Dugu Bo thought, heart pounding, '…he doesn't even realize what a monstrosity he has created. If my father had possessed this technique when he was alive… the Dugu Clan would have had its first Titled Douluo in over three centuries.'
He sat back down, still absorbing the implications, sweat beading at his brow despite the cool air.
This child… is far beyond what I imagined. How long has he been carrying this burden alone?
"Xin'er," he said at last, voice steady but laced with emotion. "This method is unlike anything our clan has cultivated before. So profound that if it were known… entire sects would hunt us to possess it."
Xin raised his gaze to meet his father's. There was no pride in his eyes, only clarity.
"Father need not worry," he replied. "This cultivation method is of no use to outsiders. It is only effective for those afflicted with the Jade Phosphor Serpent's poison. For others, it is nothing but refined theory."
He sipped again before continuing, his voice as soft as the wind outside.
"For us, the poison attacks specific points in the body, most violently at midnight. I've designed the method to not fight the poison, but guide it. Harness it. Instead of merely surviving, we transform the curse into cultivation."
He paused, eyes distant.
"This is not an antidote. I know you feel stronger now, but it's only temporary. Like a balm for a mortal wound. The root remains."
Dugu Bo nodded slowly, accepting the truth.
"Very well," he said. "The timeline remains unchanged. We leave for Doku Swamp in three days. I'll make the necessary preparations—equipment, pills, and terrain maps."
He stood again, the lines of his face sharper now. More determined.
"This trip is all or nothing. I would usually bring members of the subsidiary clans, as support. But now… that's not an option. This path is too dangerous. If we fail, we die. I won't drag others down with us. At the very least… they deserve the chance to live free of this burden."
Xin stood beside him, the evening sun casting golden light across the lake's surface.
"Then let's not fail," he said simply.