He paused, as if recalling that distant moment. "I said, 'I am willing.' Then, I didn't 'gain the power of the ocean.' Instead... at that moment, the existence of 'Tang San' resonated with, and overlapped, the concept of the 'ocean.' I was no longer a person who used the ocean's power; I was the manifestation of the ocean's will in the mortal world."
Tang Wulin's eyes lit up. "Exactly! Not control, but acceptance and resonance! And then? After becoming the Sea God, how did your cultivation change?"
"It shifted from accumulating soul power to understanding the laws," Tang San replied. "I no longer needed to absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to increase my cultivation. Instead, I needed to deepen my understanding of the ocean, of water, of life through insight. The more I understood, the deeper my resonance with the ocean became, and the stronger the power I could mobilize. But this power... it's less 'my power' and more 'the power of the ocean that I, as the Sea God, am permitted to use.'"
"What if you were to give up the Sea God's divine position?" Tang Wulin pressed. "Would that understanding disappear? Would your resonance with the ocean be severed?"
This time, Tang San considered for much longer before slowly shaking his head. "The understanding wouldn't disappear; it's part of what I 'know.' But the resonance... it would weaken. Once I was no longer the Sea God, the ocean would no longer be my 'responsibility' and 'authority.' My connection to it would recede from 'being one' to 'being intimate.' I would still understand it, perhaps even be able to command a portion of its power, but it would no longer be as natural as moving an arm. It would require a request, exchange, and cost."
Tang Wulin took a deep breath, the light in his eyes growing ever brighter. "So, a divine position is actually a form of... 'identity authentication'? It certifies that you are qualified to resonate deeply with a certain law, qualified to exercise authority on behalf of that law. And cultivation is the process of continuously deepening your understanding of this identity, of strengthening your compatibility with it?"
"A very apt analogy," Tang San nodded, then gave his son a deep look. "Wulin, the reason you're asking these questions is because you want to..."
"I want to skip the 'identity authentication' step," Tang Wulin said, words that shocked both his parents. "I want to resonate directly with the laws, not in the identity of a god, but in the essence of my own existence as 'Tang Wulin.'"
The chopsticks in Xiao Wu's hand clattered onto the table, making a crisp sound.
"Is... is that possible?" she couldn't help but ask. "Without the guidance of a divine position, without the blessing of a god's inheritance, how can a mortal resonate directly with the laws? That would be like... like trying to understand a book without language, or crossing a great river without a bridge!"
"That's why I need to re-understand everything," Tang Wulin's voice was calm, yet carried an undeniable firmness. "What is soul power? What if it's not energy, but a primary manifestation of the 'power of existence'? What are soul rings? What if they're not the soul fragments of a soul beast, but 'imprints of a pact made with the world'? What are martial souls? What if they're not a bloodline inheritance, but a 'manifestation of existential traits'?"
His series of questions plunged Tang San into a long silence.
After a long while, the Sea God slowly spoke. "Your line of thought... is very dangerous. But if you can see it through, it might open a door to something entirely new. However, Wulin, you must know that the existing cultivation system is a safe path verified by countless predecessors over hundreds of millions of years. The path you want to take has no guarantees, and it might even... fundamentally negate everything you are as a soul master, and as a god."
"I have nothing left to lose, Dad," Tang Wulin smiled, a smile of both relief and resolve. "My power is almost gone, my divine position is shattered. Standing on these ruins, I have instead gained the qualification to rebuild everything. And besides..."
He looked at his own palm. Though it was empty, he could feel those points of light from his memories, quietly burning in the depths of his soul.
"And besides, I feel this path might not be a 'new' one, but the 'original' one," he said softly, as if revealing an astonishing secret. "Before the soul master system appeared, before the Divine Realm was established, before all concepts of cultivation were defined, how did the first lifeforms understand the world, how did they interact with it? Perhaps they walked this very path—not cultivation, but 'becoming'; not control, but 'resonance.'"
Silence fell over the courtyard, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind.
Tang San looked at his son, at the light burning in those azure-blue eyes so like his own, and suddenly recalled many years ago, in a small village called Holy Soul Village, the afternoon he first lifted his forging hammer and felt the metal breathe.
Back then, he too didn't know what soul power was, what soul rings were, what martial souls were. He just felt that the hammer in his hand was an extension of his arm, the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Perhaps you are right," Tang San suddenly smiled. The smile held pride, anticipation, and a touch of a father's worry for his son embarking on a perilous journey. "Go on, Wulin. If this path truly exists, if anyone can walk it, it can only be you."
"Because," he paused, saying each word with deliberate weight, "you have already used your existence to convince the void."
In the days that followed, Tang Wulin began his new attempt.
He did not meditate to absorb soul power, nor did he practice his soul skills. He didn't even try to repair his shattered Golden Dragon Gun. The first thing he did was remember.
Deep within the Serenity Garden, Tang San had prepared a quiet room for him. Tang Wulin sat in the center of the room, closed his eyes, and began to relive his life, piece by piece, from the very beginning of his memories.
The first memory was the cry of his own birth. Not a concrete image—an infant cannot remember its own birth—but a sensation: warmth, envelopment, then a sudden cold and light, the sharp sting of air filling his lungs for the first time, the uncontrollable sound from his throat. That sensation of "coming into being" from nothingness, that initial confirmation of "I have arrived in this world."
He captured this feeling, not with his brain, but with his entire soul. Then, deep within his soul, a point of light lit up—fainter, more primitive than the previous memory-lights, yet more fundamental. It was the first anchor point of his "existence": I was born.
The second memory was the warmth of his mother's embrace. Xiao Wu holding him in her arms, humming an off-key lullaby, her fingers gently patting his back. That sense of security, of being enveloped by love, that feeling of "I belong here."
Another point of light.
The third memory was the first time he called "Mom." Not the specific pronunciation, but the impulse to express, to connect, to let that warm presence know "I am here."
Another point of light.
And so Tang Wulin sat, from birth to infancy, from childhood to his teenage years, from the Douluo Continent to the Divine Realm, from mortal to god, and then from god back to mortal. He relived every important moment, every profound experience, every critical turning point.
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