Dugu Bo grabbed the scroll with deliberate care, his expression darkening with focus as his sharp eyes scanned the tightly written script. Beside him, Xin's voice carried quietly through the carriage, steady but brimming with urgency.
"The most important one is Yue Guan," Xin began, his voice soft but firm. "He has a younger sister who means the world to him—and she's currently drowning in debt. If we don't intervene soon, she will likely be killed. Saving her is the key to gaining Yue Guan's loyalty. Without her, he'll have no reason to trust anyone."
Dugu Bo grunted slightly in acknowledgment but didn't look up. Xin continued, his words coming faster now, his mind racing ahead.
"Next is Chen Xin. His father recently passed away, and he's formed a bond with Gu Rong, someone associated with the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan. Although Gu Rong isn't a true blood member, he acts as one of their protectors. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile spirit is powerful in support, but the clan itself lacks direct combat strength. With the right motivation—be it loyalty, ambition, or shared enemies—they could be persuaded to ally with us."
Xin paused, watching his father carefully as Dugu Bo studied the scroll, every line written in precise, unhurried script. Despite the dim lighting, Dugu Bo's face was illuminated with a rare seriousness.
"The Spirit Hall, and the noble families of Aurellan, each possess numerous Titled Douluo," Xin said grimly. "If we want to survive, if we want to stand against them one day, we must have our own Titled Douluo. It's not a matter of if—only when."
For a moment, the two locked eyes, the air thick with unspoken questions. Deep in his heart, Xin wondered: Why doesn't he question how I know all of this? He half-expected skepticism, interrogation—but no such words came. Dugu Bo simply accepted it, as if he had already decided that Xin's knowledge, no matter how mysterious, was a blessing rather than a threat.
Dugu Bo leaned back, folding the scroll carefully before tucking it into his robes. He crossed his legs, his movements unhurried and composed, and closed his eyes.
"Once we return, I'll personally retrieve Yue Guan's sister," Dugu Bo said calmly. "While I'm away, you'll begin the adoption process for the orphans we discussed. I'll also dispatch trusted men to locate Chen Xin—and perhaps Gu Rong, if the opportunity arises."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "This will also give you a chance to understand the true strength of our clan. Though we've fallen somewhat from our former glory, our foundations are still far stronger than most of these upstart clans."
He spoke with a quiet, cold certainty, the sort born not from arrogance, but from lived experience. Soon, the world would remember the name "Dugu."
Just as he promised, Dugu Bo departed soon after they returned to Dugu County. The sun had barely risen over the misty hills when he saddled his fastest beast and set off, leaving a small retinue to guard Xin and the estate.
As he traveled, Dugu Bo's mind kept wandering back to the scroll and the son who had given it to him. Xin'er provided highly detailed descriptions—far too detailed for a mere child. He must have spent a great deal of time gathering this information. But how? For most of his life, he's been cloistered within the estate, interacting only with servants and family. A thought crept into Dugu Bo's mind, half-worried, half-proud. Unless he had others gathering intelligence for him in secret... In which case, he is even more resourceful—and dangerous—than I realized.
His destination was Balak City, the heart of the Balak Kingdom, nestled on the western edge of the Douluo Continent. It was there that Yue Guan's sister, a prodigious student of one of Balak's most prestigious academies, had once lived before her life was destroyed by mounting debts. If the rumors were true, her death—or near-death—would become a critical juncture. Dugu Bo intended to change that fate.
After rescuing her, his next destination would be the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, where opportunity—and perhaps an alliance—awaited.
Back in Dugu County, Xin assumed full control over the Dugu Clan's internal affairs.
In modern times, giving a six-year-old command of an entire clan would seem absurd, Xin mused, seated at his small desk in the center of his richly appointed room. Stacks of documents towered over him, forming chaotic yet familiar walls of paper. But this is not the modern world. Power here isn't just a matter of age—it's a matter of strength, spirit, and will. Even at six, my cultivation has reached a level most men will never touch.
The Dugu Clan's properties were impeccably managed—an intricate web of landholdings, businesses, and old alliances that had been maintained through centuries of discipline and careful stewardship. Xin quickly realized that introducing "modern" technologies, as tempting as it was, would not necessarily be beneficial. Some innovations would undermine the delicate balance of spirit-based labor and traditional crafts.
No, he thought, picking up a heavy scroll and scanning its contents. The true path forward lies in integrating spirit masters into critical fields—agriculture, construction, medicine, communication. There are thousands of spirit types, and I will find a use for each and every one of them.
Determined, Xin gathered a few of the scrolls he had annotated and made his way toward the main courtyard. His small feet barely made a sound as he crossed the estate's polished stone floors.
The servants, sensing his presence, immediately straightened and lowered their heads respectfully, pressing themselves against the walls to give him space. Though only a boy in years, Xin carried himself with the gravity of a seasoned master.
Passing through the colonnaded walkways into the sunlight, Xin's gaze swept over the Dugu Estate—the ancestral home of a once-mighty clan—and in that moment, a quiet vow took shape within him.
I will not let this place fall into ruin. I will not be a bystander to my own destiny. The storm is coming—and when it breaks, we will not simply endure. We will thrive.
And with that thought blazing in his heart, Xin took his first steps into a future he intended to seize with both hands.
When Xin arrived at the main courtyard, five children were already lined up in a neat but trembling formation. They were filthy, dressed in ragged scraps that barely counted as clothing, their bodies painfully thin from hunger and hardship. Three boys and two girls stood before him, each one bearing the same hollow-eyed expression of those who had seen too much cruelty in too short a life.
Xin swept his sharp gaze over them, his face an impassive mask, though inside his heart clenched painfully at the sight. No child should look like this.
Standing a few paces back was Zhong Jian, a tall man with wiry muscles and a no-nonsense air about him. He belonged to the Zhong Clan—one of the three vassal clans loyal to the Dugu Clan for generations. Though they only held the noble rank of Baron, their loyalty had never wavered. Despite their long history, the Zhong Clan had never produced a Spirit Master above the Spirit King rank, and most of their members possessed humble Body Spirits of all kinds. Zhong Jian himself bore the Spirit of Living Hair, while his current patriarch wielded Spirit Wings—simple, utilitarian abilities.
Xin nodded in approval. "Good work, Zhong Jian," he said crisply. "If there are any children in your Zhong Clan around six years old who were said to have no spirit power... send them over as well."
Zhong Jian bowed low, his hand pressed to his chest in the traditional salute. "Yes, young master."
With that, Xin turned and walked past the children, ascending the steps toward the grand Seat of Power—a massive, ornately carved chair placed at the head of the courtyard. Though technically just a chair by construction, within the noble customs of the Douluo Continent, only those of Duke rank or higher had the right to call it a throne.
As he sat, the weight of tradition settled around him like a cloak. His small frame looked almost swallowed by the massive chair, but the gravity of his presence anchored the space.
He let the silence stretch a moment before speaking, voice calm, clear, and carrying throughout the courtyard.
"My name is Dugu Xin," he said. "I am the heir to the Dugu Clan and currently the regent while my father is away. As of this moment, you five are members of the Dugu Clan. You have been officially added to our family registry."
A murmur ran through the children—small gasps, widened eyes. Before, they had seemed dead-eyed and resigned, expecting little more than another cycle of toil and survival. But to be entered into the family registry of a noble house, a true house... that was a gift beyond anything they could have dreamed.
"After bathing," Xin continued, "you will be taken to the Ancestral Hall to pay your respects to the spirits of our forefathers. Then, you will return here, and I will personally set you on the path to becoming Spirit Masters."
The words hit like a thunderclap. The idea—the hope—seemed too large for their small, battered hearts to comprehend.
After a long, painful pause, one of the children mustered the courage to speak.
"Brother Xin," whispered the smallest girl, her voice thin and shaky. She clutched her tattered tunic so tightly her knuckles turned bone white. Her black hair was matted to her cheeks, and she stared down at the ground, too frightened to meet his gaze.
Xin's face remained unmoving, carved in stone. But deep in his heart, sadness bloomed—a sorrow so deep it threatened to overwhelm him. How many others like them are out there? Abandoned, forgotten, crushed by a world that worships power?
"What is it?" he asked, his tone softening slightly.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut, summoning what little courage she had. "Is... is it true?" she asked, lifting her head at last. Her black eyes, wide and full of fear, met his—then widened further as she saw the difference: one gleaming golden eye, one shimmering platinum eye, both marked by vertical pupils like a serpent's.
Her breath hitched, fear rising—but then, Xin smiled. A warm, radiant smile that transformed his normally cold features.
"Why, of course!" he said brightly.
He clapped his hands, and from the sides of the courtyard, servants hurried forward—male attendants for the boys, female attendants for the girls. They bowed deeply before moving to guide the new clan members away for their baths and preparation.
"Carry out my orders," Xin said, his voice brooking no argument.
The children hesitated only a moment longer before following the servants, their steps lighter, their faces beginning to flicker with something almost forgotten: hope.
Left alone once more, Xin closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to sink into his Spirit Sea.
The inner world of his spirit was more lively than ever. New energy buzzed through the air, a reflection of the transformations he had recently undergone. And amidst the shimmering waters and drifting islands of his Spirit Sea, two figures awaited him.
Hong Liu appeared as a stunning young woman of around sixteen to twenty years, with flowing white hair, crimson eyes, and a vibrant red dress that danced around her like flame. She was a vision of wild elegance, radiating both mischief and warmth.
Beside her lounged Lan Ushi middle-aged man with rugged features, blue hair tied loosely behind him, and a pipe clamped between his teeth. He wore a tiger-striped robe, looking every inch the seasoned wanderer.
Hong Liu skipped forward, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement as she circled Xin's spirit form—which had evolved into a majestic Winged Glacial Phosphor Serpent Emperor, its icy scales shimmering with ethereal light.