The father and son sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea as they enjoyed the peaceful ambiance of the courtyard. Eventually, Dugu Xin broke the quiet.
"Father… I've been thinking. You and I are the last spirit masters of the Dugu clan. Unless you remarry or I have children someday, our legacy could end here. So I've been considering ways to expand the clan." He paused, then added thoughtfully, "What if we adopted orphans—those deemed incapable of becoming spirit masters?"
Dugu Bo's eyes widened, clearly stunned by the suggestion.
"Why would we adopt people with no potential?" he asked, incredulous. "They're a drain on resources. They bring nothing to the clan. And as for remarrying…" His voice trailed off, turning somber. "I've thought about it, but I don't want to go through what happened with your mother again. Just being around me is a death sentence…"
He looked at his son, unable to understand his line of thinking.
Xin was momentarily quiet, studying the man across from him. In my previous life, his unique hair and eye color would've stood out, but here, he's not only striking—he's powerful, respected, and dignified. There's no doubt he could find another partner. But the burden he carries... it's heavier than he lets on.
Gathering his thoughts, Xin continued.
"In this world, spirit masters reign supreme, and your view is the common one. But think for a moment about those people—those without spirit power. All their lives, they're treated as worthless. All they want is a chance to prove themselves."
He stood, walking slowly to the railing and crouching down to peer into the lake below. Fish swam lazily beneath the surface, disturbed only when Xin dipped a finger into the water, sending ripples outward.
"After you acquire the 100,000-year-old spirit ring, the Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor will most likely evolve again. That bloodline enhancement—it might be the key." His voice took on a quiet intensity. "If we infused that power into these orphans, it could awaken something dormant. Maybe even allow them to develop into spirit masters. It's just a theory… but if it works, it would completely redefine how we see those born without spirit power."
Dugu Bo stared at his son's small back in disbelief. The idea was staggering.
"In theory," Xin went on, "their original spirits could evolve, perhaps even allowing them to develop twin spirits—one being the Jade Phosphor Serpent."
He let the water ripple around his finger before pulling it back. "At age six, everyone undergoes spirit awakening. And when a child is found to have no spirit power, the disappointment in the awakener's face says it all. Spirit masters don't even try to hide their disdain. They see the powerless as trash."
Turning to face his father, Xin's voice was steady, filled with resolve.
"My goal is to change the world—step by step. But before I can focus on the world outside, we need to strengthen the Dugu clan from within. Once we return from the swamp, we'll try it. If it works, we won't just have new spirit masters—we'll have new family. With your bloodline, they'll truly belong to the Dugu clan. There's no shame in giving them our name."
Dugu Bo met his son's gaze. In those young eyes, he saw a vision of the future—bold, impossible, and somehow completely within reach.
Right now, he's just a spirit trainee, Dugu Bo thought, but once he becomes a Titled Douluo, nothing will stand in his way.
He stood up, his voice steady. "When we return, we'll start by adopting the orphans. I'll also arrange for tutors who can give you the education you need. It's better than drawing attention with the spirit ring you'll eventually receive."
He gave his son a rare, approving look. "As for your vision for the Dugu clan… I will support it fully."
With that, Dugu Bo left to prepare for their journey.
_________________________________________
The journey had been long, but at last, they stood before the infamous Doku Swamp—a vast, foreboding expanse shrouded in perpetual mist. The air here was thick with the scent of damp earth and something far more sinister, a faint, cloying sweetness that clung to the back of the throat. Poison.
Before them, a towering translucent barrier shimmered faintly, its surface rippling like disturbed water under moonlight. This was no natural phenomenon—it was the work of Spirit Hall, a grand seal woven from the combined might of their strongest Spirit Masters. Its purpose was clear: to contain the horrors within. The poisonous mists, the mutated flora, the countless spirit beasts that had adapted to thrive in this toxic wasteland—none could pass beyond this boundary.
Yet for Spirit Masters, entry was permitted—so long as they proved themselves worthy at the checkpoint.
Dugu Bo stepped forward without hesitation, his presence alone enough to make the guards stationed at the barrier straighten in recognition. A flicker of fear crossed their faces before they bowed deeply, allowing him and his son to pass without question.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the world shifted.
A dense, emerald-hued haze swallowed them whole, pressing in from all sides like a living thing. Visibility plummeted—anything beyond a hundred meters was lost to the swirling mist. The ground beneath their feet was slick with black mud, each step sinking slightly before finding precarious purchase. The air hummed with the drone of countless insects, their wings beating in a ceaseless, discordant chorus. Towering trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their gnarled roots twisting through the muck, their trunks draped in heavy curtains of moss that swayed gently in the damp, sluggish wind.
Dugu Bo inhaled deeply, the familiar stench of decay and poison filling his lungs. A soft, nostalgic smile touched his lips as he gazed upon the twisted beauty of the swamp.
"Years ago," he began, his voice carrying the weight of memory, "my father brought me here to hunt for my first spirit ring." He gestured vaguely ahead, where the mist curled like grasping fingers. "Not long after we stepped past the barrier, a Poison Grass Snake, at least ten thousand years old, slithered across our path."
He chuckled, the sound low and fond.
"I remember... I froze right where I stood. A ten-thousand-year spirit beast, appearing so suddenly? To a child, it was terrifying."
Dugu Xin listened intently, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings even as his father spoke.
"Your grandfather merely glanced at me and said, 'Grass Snakes are usually harmless. Few ever reach such an age. This one must have found a great fortune to grow so strong.'" Dugu Bo's smile deepened. "We let it pass, skirting carefully around the edges of the swamp. That was my first lesson—not all spirit beasts are to be fought. Some are best avoided."
With a thought, he released his spirit rings. Brilliant lights burst forth, dancing in the mist before settling into their familiar formation—two yellow, two purple, three black. The first ring, a vibrant yellow, hovered before his chest, pulsing gently.
"My first spirit ring," Dugu Bo murmured, gazing at it with something akin to reverence. "From a 357-year-old Psycho Toad. When we found it, Father insisted it was perfect for me." His lips twitched. "Its ability was simple but strange—spewing a venomous mist that sows confusion in the enemy's mind, weakening their will to fight."
A faint trace of self-mockery crossed his face.
"At first, I thought the ability was laughable. But when I fought the Psycho Toad myself..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "There were moments I nearly forgot what I was even doing. In my early years, this ability kept me alive countless times." His expression darkened slightly. "But now... against high-level Spirit Masters, such minor toxins are little more than a breeze in a storm."
The quiet sorrow in his words did not escape Dugu Xin. He said nothing, merely walking in silence beside his father, absorbing every lesson.
After a long moment, Dugu Bo spoke again, his tone steady.
"This swamp is divided into four regions: Outer, Inner, Core, and Sanctuary." He gestured into the mist ahead. "The Outer Swamp is the smallest, home to spirit beasts ranging from freshly born to around three thousand years in cultivation. Beyond that lies the Inner Swamp, where spirit beasts between three and sixty thousand years dwell. Deeper still is the Core Region—vast, treacherous, where ancient beasts of sixty to one hundred thousand years reign supreme."
He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"And then there is the Sanctuary... A place even the Spirit Hall fears. Within it reside the true overlords of Doku Swamp—spirit beasts whose cultivation ages far surpass a hundred thousand years. It was the last Supreme Pontiff who personally sealed the Sanctuary with a mighty barrier, ensuring the monsters within could not escape."
A subtle weight hung in the air after his words.
"It is even said," Dugu Bo added in a low voice, "that beyond that final barrier... lies a Great Spirit Beast—an existence that surpasses the limits of the mortal world."
Dugu Xin's heart quickened at his father's final words.
"Sanctuary..." he murmured to himself. That was a realm far beyond their current strength—to step there now would be courting death.
"We won't go near it," he said firmly. "Until we reach the Core Region, I can handle most spirit beasts we'll encounter."
At his declaration, the two pressed deeper into the swamp.
All around them, the land rotted underfoot. Trees with blackened trunks wept foul water. The fetid air was thick with scum and life—frogs, slugs, leeches, catfish, and crawfish squirmed through the shallows. Beetles, spiders, and snakes moved through the tangled reeds, while clouds of gnats, flies, and mosquitoes swirled relentlessly. Bats flitted overhead, algae clung to the scummy waters, and dead trees leaned precariously over murky pools. Quicksand lurked unseen, and crocodiles prowled the muddy channels. Worms wriggled beneath the rippling water, mist curled along the ground, and moss hung like ghostly veils from the tree branches.
In truth, it mirrored a swamp from the mortal world.
But this was Aurellan.
Here, every creature—even the lowliest insect—carried spirit power and cultivation.
Sensing the overwhelming might radiating from Dugu Bo, most creatures wisely kept their distance.
For now.
As they ventured deeper, the air grew thicker, stagnant, and laden with unseen toxins. Xin found his breathing becoming labored; even passively, he had to circulate his spirit power to purge the poison creeping into his body. Sweat mixed with dirt and grime, running into his mouth. Grimacing, he uncorked a leather canteen and drank the stale water within.
"Father," he panted, "where are we now?"
"The boundary where the Inner Region meets the Core," Dugu Bo replied.
As he spoke, the brush ahead rustled violently.
A massive figure burst forth—an Emerald Tyrant Crocodile, its thick scales gleaming green under the sickly light. It opened its cavernous jaws and let out a low hiss, shaking the swamp around them.
Before Xin could react, Dugu Bo snatched him up effortlessly under one arm—carrying him like a sack of potatoes.
Without hesitation, Dugu Bo summoned his spirit rings, prepared for battle.
His fifth spirit ring lit up.
"Blood Jade Mist."
A deep red mist erupted from Dugu Bo's mouth, swirling around them like a living creature, cloaking them in a poisonous embrace.
Spirit beasts matured in intelligence as their cultivation age grew. Most were little more than instinct-driven beasts in their early years. Only after surpassing one hundred thousand years could a spirit beast attain true human-level intellect—and speech. Before that, their minds remained like children's.
The Emerald Tyrant Crocodile, sensing its peril far too late, hesitated. Though its cultivation was around fifty thousand years, its mind was no more advanced than that of a ten- or twelve-year-old child.
It tried to back away, but it was futile.
Dugu Bo's seventh ring shone brilliantly. Behind him, the Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor manifested—an enormous serpent with scales glimmering like jadeite, its presence exuding absolute dominion.
With a crack of displaced air, the serpent lunged.
Crack!
The impact shook the swamp, scattering leaves and peeling bark from nearby trees. The Serpent Emperor clamped its fangs around the crocodile's thick neck, injecting potent venom while its poisonous aura seeped directly into the creature's body.
Dugu Xin observed the battle intently, burning the image into his mind.
Battle wasn't only about raw strength—it was about efficiency, pressure, dominance.
"Remember this," Dugu Bo said coldly, not taking his eyes from the scene, "Spirit beasts of one hundred thousand years are dangerous not merely because of their power, but because of their intelligence. They strategize. They plan. Facing one is like fighting a cunning Spirit Master. When we step into the Core Region, we must tread carefully. Recklessness will only get us killed."
Slowly, the crocodile's struggles weakened, until finally it collapsed, lifeless. A deep black spirit ring hovered above its corpse, pulsating with dark light.
The Jade Phosphor Serpent Emperor released its grip and dissolved into motes of spirit energy.
Still carrying Xin under his arm, Dugu Bo resumed his pace, walking deeper into the swamp's heart.
There was no clear boundary marking the passage into the Core Region.
Yet, the change was undeniable.
The air shifted. The rot and decay receded. Here, everything thrummed with spirit energy. Even the smallest insects bore cultivation levels of at least one thousand years. The trees soared upward, so tall they blotted out the sky itself, yet the gloom was broken by countless bioluminescent plants and glowing insects, painting the swamp in ghostly blues and greens.
It might have been beautiful—if not for the ever-present, suffocating danger.
Their presence had not gone unnoticed.
In the shadows, a massive creature stirred.
"Humans..." it rumbled in annoyance. A heavy tail slammed into the water with a thud that echoed through the mist. It turned a wary gaze toward its sleeping offspring. After a moment's deliberation, it decided against confrontation.
"So long as they stay clear of my nest... I will spare them."
Elsewhere, deeper still, a colossal tree stirred from slumber.
It wasn't merely part of the swamp—it was the swamp, its roots spanning leagues, intertwined with the land itself.
An ancient, echoing voice murmured from the depths:
"Oh? Humans?"
Laughter rustled through the trees like a whisper on the wind.
"It has been long... since humans strong enough to endure that one's poison have come this far. Perhaps... things shall become interesting once more."