Chapter 2. Training
The news that my first spirit ring turned out to be only white spread in an instant and caused a real scandal. And the next morning, instead of training, my sister and I were summoned to Father's study. Only an idiot wouldn't have understood who helped me.
We were standing side by side. I tried to look calm, though inside I was nervous under such close scrutiny, while Zhu Zhuyun seemed outright frightened. According to clan rules, she had no right to try to harm me before Dai Mubai and I had at least begun to train our spirit fusion technique. And even then, the confrontation could not be open.
"Zhu Zhuyun, did you decide you stand above the clan rules?" a calm male voice sounded, but there was so much cold in his tone that even I felt extremely uncomfortable.
"Your sister may well lose in the struggle for the throne, but she could still have become a pillar of our clan, a Titled Douluo!"
"Father," I decided to intervene. This whole farce was needed by me first and foremost to secure myself time until the moment I could run away without remorse. And the dark‑golden Dreadbear's ring was simply the perfect option to achieve that without losing effectiveness by taking a ten‑year ring. "My sister bears no blame for the choice of my first ring. The decision was entirely mine."
"I see." Disappointment and contempt were far too obvious in the duke's gaze as it fell on me. "Get out of my sight."
"If you think that in the future I'll be lenient with you just because you stood up for me, then you're simply an idiot," my sister threw at me and quickly left.
I, however, did not hurry. In front of me stood Elder Mu, who had been overseeing my training these last few days.
"Did you want something?"
"Come. I wish to speak with you."
Looking at him, I honestly felt a certain hesitation, but deciding that in the duke's own house no one would dare act too outrageously, I followed him until we ended up at an empty training ground.
He stopped and, without turning to me, spoke:
"When you awakened your spirit, I, like several others, decided to bet on you. I thought your talent and the talent of the younger prince would allow you to catch up with the crown prince and his fiancée. Besides, if both the emperor and empress become Titled Douluo, the Spirit Hall will no longer be a threat to us. However, because of your stunt the next day, many withdrew their support from you. I did not give up and took charge of your training."
He turned to me with a gloomy expression and continued:
"These past days I've confirmed that you are clearly not the type to bawl over a little pain. Your thoughts are more mature than your peers'. And all the more I doubted that you were afraid to absorb a hundred‑year ring. And yet, here you are with a first white ring. I'm afraid that if you cannot explain the reason for this choice, even I would prefer to give up."
His intent gaze made me uncomfortable, and it felt as if a lump was stuck in my throat. Truth be told, I hadn't thought at all about the people who might have pinned their hopes on me, and in all honesty I just wanted to use my position as the duke's second daughter to secure an advantage at the start before running away. The longer I remained silent, the more expressive the disappointment grew on the old man's face. Even so, under no circumstances could I afford to lose the support of a healer.
"I'll explain, if this stays between us," I finally said.
"I promise," the old man nodded solemnly.
"A promise isn't enough. Swear on your spirit. Then I'll not only tell you why I chose such a ring, but also reveal my plan for the next two years," I demanded firmly. On the one hand, I vitally needed at least one sufficiently strong person to carry out my plan, and on the other—if he wasn't willing to swear on his spirit, which actually means something in this world, then I'd rather not risk it.
"…Is it worth that much?" the old man didn't rush into the oath, which made me tense slightly, but I still squeezed out something that might push him to agree:
"I know how to become a god."
"Girl, that's not something you should joke about," Elder Mu said darkly.
"Believe me, I know much more than it seems. And if you're ready to swear to keep secret what I tell you, you'll be convinced of that soon enough."
The old man did not rush to answer. He closed his eyes and fell into thought.
I did not hurry him. Several minutes passed before he finally asked:
"How sure are you that you can help someone ascend?"
"Help someone else? If a person can't at least grow to the level of a Titled Douluo, then I can't help him at all. But if we're talking about me, then, provided I survive, I can achieve it with at least a fifty‑percent chance. And reach a limit Douluo of the ninety‑ninth level with at least a ninety‑percent chance."
"You're very self‑confident," the old man frowned.
"Because I can afford to be."
"Very well. So long as you do not harm the interests of the Star Luo Empire, I, Mu Ye, swear on my Sunflower Spirit that I will serve you faithfully," the elder declared solemnly, summoning his spirit.
"I only expected an oath of non‑disclosure," I was slightly taken aback by such resolve.
"Choosing one of the heirs is, for the most part, a one‑way ticket. I'm prepared for that."
"I see… All right. Then first I'll explain the choice of my first ring. What do you know about the dark‑golden Dreadbear?"
"Hmm. It's a very dangerous beast, and if you meet an adult, it's best to run without looking back. A ten‑thousand‑year specimen is no weaker than hundred‑thousand‑year beasts."
"Correct. And also…" I walked over to a mannequin made entirely of metal. "Their rings are about five or more times harder to absorb, and their claws have a penetrating effect."
I summoned my spirit, then activated my first ring and ran my claws across the mannequin, leaving five deep grooves.
"That was tempered steel!" In an instant, the old man was at my side, running his hand along the perfectly smooth cut.
"Lady, what exactly does your first ring do?" he asked excitedly. Who but he would know that even our duke, at the Spirit Douluo level (81–90), wouldn't be able to cut tempered steel so easily.
"So long as my first ring is active, my claws become akin to the claws of a dark‑golden Dreadbear."
"That's astonishing," the old man was excited, but not for long. "But, my lady, the problem isn't what skill you gained from your first ring, but the fundamental difference in the energy obtained from rings. Even if a beast's energy is more tyrannical, it will still affect the total amount."
"True," I confirmed. "That's why I've come up with a way to make my second ring a thousand‑year one."
"That's impossible! Before reaching the thirtieth rank, the body simply can't withstand that level of energy. You'll be torn apart!"
"Correct. If the body is not comparable to the thirtieth rank, it won't withstand it. However, who said it's impossible to strengthen the body to that level while being at the twentieth?"
"My lady, you clearly underestimate the difference in physique between twentieth and thirtieth rank spirit masters. That's not something you overcome with physical training alone. Even for those who push their bodies to the limit, at the twentieth rank the maximum is considered a ring of about seven hundred and sixty years. And to understand how big the difference is: at the thirtieth rank the limit is around eighteen hundred years."
"I know, but allow me to finish. In cities near the sea they periodically hunt deep‑sea whales. Though ten‑thousand‑year ones are almost never killed, since they can always remain at great depth, the thousand‑year ones still have to surface from time to time to replenish their air supply. And these creatures have one special thing which, at the moment, people most likely haven't figured out how to use properly. For those who don't know, it looks like worthless petrified fat, but in reality it's called whale glue, which, when properly heated, turns into a real treasure that can strengthen the body and meridians. One small piece of ten‑thousand‑year whale glue would be enough to help me absorb a thousand‑year ring. However, with thousand‑year glue I'll have to take it daily over the course of several months. But right now there's still a chance to get it in large quantities for next to nothing, and I hope you can help send someone for it, Elder."
"I've never heard of such a thing," the old man frowned.
"All the better. The fewer people know about it, the higher the chances of getting it cheaply. And in the future, it can become a secret that will serve as an excellent support for our empire before others learn of this treasure. And until we have it, I'll be counting on your skills, Elder Mu, for help with my training."
"How exactly do you want me to help you?" he asked with obvious curiosity.
"I need to improve my physique and speed as much as possible. The best way will be running with added weight, and your healing when I'm completely exhausted."
"Excellent, excellent," the old man nodded. "After sparring we'll do just that. But remember: you suggested this yourself, so I'll make sure you don't slack off."
"I feel like I've made a deal with the devil," I muttered, feeling I had somehow outsmarted myself.
I realized where the catch was only the next day. First, as my sparring partners they gave me spirit masters, and I was not allowed to use my first ring. Naturally, I was beaten to a pulp. But the problem wasn't even that, it was the training that followed.
If you don't know what it truly means to push yourself to exhaustion, running with a sack strapped to your back may seem simple. In reality, even the process itself was incredibly hard and monotonous. The only thing that saved me were my parallel attempts to focus on my cultivation technique. But even so, each time I collapsed from fatigue, feeling the relief of his healing skill, I was much more tempted to forget everything and go back to my room than to continue torturing myself. However, remembering the goal I had set for myself, despite the tears in my eyes, I still got up and ran on, consoling myself with the thought that you can get used to anything, and I would definitely get used to this too.
A week passed like that. And no, I did not have time to get used to it. At best, because all my opponents had skills that were practically carbon copies of each other, I no longer always lost. But even victories had to be literally torn out of their hands, spilling both my own and others' blood.
So what could have happened that would be so important after only a week?
It was that as I tried to understand what exactly my second spirit lacked to awaken, I once remembered an interesting detail related to Tang San. Although the work didn't describe in detail how his cultivation process took place, it did mention external factors and one of his skills which, if you think about it, essentially helped develop mental strength—extremely important for absorbing ten‑thousand‑year rings. All that was required was to cultivate in the morning, at sunrise. At that time, the spiritual energy acquired a special violet hue and aided in developing an eye technique called Purple Demon Eye.
What did that have to do with my second spirit? The chain of reasoning was fairly simple. Concentration—located in the head. Possibly involving mental energy. The only available way I could come up with to increase it was Tang San's technique. But he absolutely wouldn't teach me his techniques, which meant I had to come up with something of my own based on what I knew. Fortunately, spiritual energy is very gentle in this regard: passively it doesn't harm the body, so you can experiment without fearing serious injuries.
Without much delay, I ordered my maid—who clearly wasn't happy about it—to wake me before sunrise every day. After waking up, I settled on the roof to cultivate—and indeed, for a fairly short period the spiritual energy's "tinge" seemed to change. And for the first time there was a reaction from my second spirit: the little cloud became, if only slightly, a bit denser. From that day on, I began to experiment.
The very first time, I simply guided the energy through my whole body in a standard star‑shaped cycle. Then I immediately tried guiding it along "small circles"—only through my head and the source. After that, just for checking, I tried various patterns and concluded that the second option was the most effective. Then the question arose of how to increase the amount of energy absorbed at one time, since this method would only let me do it once a day.
I remembered that for his technique Tang San had to face east, where the sun rises. That meant at least half of the effect came from the sun itself. Why only half? Because otherwise such energy would be present for more than just a brief period at dawn. So as not to waste time (I'm not a walking compass), I marked the location of the east side on the roof and took the correct position every day. The most effective way, who would have thought, turned out to be simply looking towards the sun while cultivating—in the end, the eyes served as a kind of "receiver" until this strange period ended. Of course, I kept seeing "sparks" for at least another half an hour afterward, but it was effective.
Thus, two months flew by, accompanied by my experiments. I got so used to my routine that I began to wake up just before dawn without the maids' help. After cultivating with the so‑called violet spiritual energy at sunrise came breakfast, then training in the hall. Before the others arrived, I usually either cultivated or, depending on how bored I was, tried to adapt known techniques from anime to the logic of this world—especially the ones related to fast movement. However, there was no success in that at all.
Yes, in various anime movement techniques are often described in more or less detail, including "Soru" from One Piece. And the simplest variant involving micro‑explosions under the feet has an enormous number of variations, all essentially the same thing. Let's skip Soru for now—it's obvious that it requires too much physical training, and you'd probably turn your legs to mush long before reaching the Spirit King level (51–60) and being able to fully use the technique. After all, its essence is to strike the ground with your feet ten times within a time span shorter than an ordinary person's reaction speed. But even with the other variant of seemingly easy‑to‑implement movement techniques, everything turned out to be no simpler.
Spiritual energy, oddly enough, isn't aggressive in its original form, which is why spirit masters in this world can absorb it so calmly without any special cultivation techniques. The difference lies only in the fact that depending on the type of spirit, cultivation is faster in certain places—this is related to the spirit's attributes. For me, for example, maximum efficiency is achieved in dark spaces, due to my spirit's affinity with the darkness attribute. I also suspect that thanks to its closeness to the spatial attribute, outside dark spaces and the night, cultivation is only slightly worse. The strength of the meridians also affects the speed. At least, upon reaching a certain circulation speed of energy through my channels, I more than once felt that if I dared to go any faster, I'd deeply regret it. But even so, that's more a question of the total amount of energy: even air will explode if you compress it too much.
In short, the difficulty lay in giving spiritual energy the desired properties without spirit rings. In this case—creating something akin to an explosion. Due to a similar problem, I had to abandon the idea of recreating the Rasengan from Naruto: what's the point of a rotating ball of energy if it simply scatters against an obstacle without inflicting any harm? It'd be far more useful just to strengthen my body. Unless you originally have affinity with elements such as wind.
"Although… wait. Everything changes under compression," I suddenly remembered the principle behind creating a spirit core. Its essence lies in compressing spiritual energy almost to a solid state while maintaining its rotation, due to which these cores begin to passively absorb spiritual power. But what if you don't aim for a solid, but for a liquid state?
Sitting on the floor of the training ground, I held my palms facing each other and gently directed my energy outward, trying to keep it between my palms and compress it into a small drop.
"What are you doing?" Suddenly, just as I had managed to create a very small, barely visible droplet, a curious voice sounded right by my ear. I lost control from surprise.
As if in slow motion, I watched the droplet fall to the floor like a physical object—contrary to my expectations. I instantly jumped back, and a moment later a loud pop and a small explosion, like a firecracker, scorched the floor. Judging by the sound behind me, someone fell down.
"What was that?!" a boy's stunned voice rang out.
I didn't hurry to answer, first assessing the consequences of my improvised experiment. The explosion was about as strong as a weak firecracker. It wouldn't harm spirit masters—at least not externally. And the energy spent was… about sixty percent?
"Ugh, useless thing," I sighed before looking at the one who had distracted me. A blond boy with deep blue eyes and double pupils set so close together that the anomaly was almost unnoticeable. Judging by his appearance, about nine years old. From his spirit came a slight resonance, hinting at the possibility of fusion.
"I'm not useless!" the boy immediately jumped up, clearly offended.
"I wasn't talking about you, but about the result of the experiment," I explained calmly, already anticipating the approaching headache. It wasn't hard to guess who this guy was. His double pupils alone spoke of his belonging to the royal family. And I knew only one nine‑year‑old who could have ended up in our home: my fiancé, Dai Mubai. And you can't exactly tell anyone that in my future plans he didn't even remotely figure as a romantic partner. Fortunately, he himself would provide an excellent reason later on for me to refuse him. So I just needed to wait.
"Experiment? You mean that loud bang?"
"Correct. I concluded that it's too inefficient and therefore useless. However, I'm more interested in what brings you here, Prince? As far as I know, our training in spirit fusion shouldn't start until next year."
"Ah? So you're Zhu Zhuqing?!" the boy exclaimed in surprise.
"Yes."
"Because of you my teacher is constantly tormenting me with training!"
"I don't get it," I frowned at such an accusation.
"The young prince is simply displeased with the increased amount of training," came the reply from a man who suddenly appeared beside us. Goosebumps ran across my skin: if he'd wanted to, I wouldn't even have known how I died.
I looked warily at the man in his forties, to which he only smirked.
"Teacher Zhu, I'm already at the eighteenth rank," Dai Mubai protested.
"Hmph. Girl, tell me what rank you are now," the man snorted and turned to me.
"Thirteenth."
"I don't believe you!" Dai Mubai immediately objected. "You only awakened your spirit two months ago!"
"I'm not obliged to prove anything to you," I snorted, deciding to ignore the pair. I stepped a bit further away and sat down, planning to immerse myself in cultivation.
I completely ignored Mubai getting nagged, apparently being held up as an example against my intense training. Eventually Elder Mu finally arrived at the training ground with my opponent for today—the same boy I'd had my first spar with in this life.
"We meet again. Zhu Min, right?"
"Yes. Zhu Min, spirit master of the eleventh rank, Hell Civet," the boy introduced himself, summoning his spirit. A bright yellow hundred‑year ring appeared around him.
"Zhu Zhuqing, spirit master of the thirteenth rank, Hell Civet," I also summoned my spirit, and from the spectators' side came a contemptuous snort from the prince's attendant when my white ring appeared.
As soon as the introductions were over, my opponent activated his first ring and rushed forward. His skill, like that of other members of the Zhu clan, doubled speed. Frankly, it's one of the few skills I truly approve of, but it would be far more effective to take it at later levels to receive a much greater increase in speed. Of course, that approach has its downsides: high requirements for mental strength to keep up with your own actions, and a stronger body to withstand the strain. But that's exactly why I'm enduring these hellish trainings.
Zhu Min, as in our first battle, clearly decided to underestimate his opponent. He probably thought the fight would be easy since I wasn't using my first ring—and it was white to boot.
In an instant, he was in front of me, aiming for my throat, obviously trying to end it in one strike. At first my opponents really did manage that thanks to their speed advantage. But I hadn't been training all this time for nothing. At the last moment, dodging his strike, I acted harshly: I suddenly dug the claws of my left hand into his right shoulder, pulled him toward me, and, under his scream of pain, shifted positions to press close to his back, my right‑hand claws resting against his throat.
"Good. Young lady, you've made great progress in this time," Elder Mu praised me.
"And you, Zhu Min, still trust rumors far too much and relax where you should be at your most serious. Come here, I'll heal your wounds. Then continue," he ordered.
"Wait. Let the prince fight her," the attendant suddenly intervened.
"He's three years older," the elder frowned.
"Her sister will be seven years older. Let her learn to fight stronger opponents."
"…Reasonable," Mu Ye finally agreed. "Zhu Min, come here."
"Zhuqing, you may use your ring. Just be careful not to cut anything off him," he added.
"Mu Ye, you're such a joker. What kind of skill could a white ring possibly give?" the attendant sneered.
"You'll see," the elder retorted.
While the adults exchanged remarks, Dai Mubai took a place opposite me.
"Since I'm older, it'll only be fair to give you the initiative. You may attack first," he declared.
"Are you stupid?" I asked bluntly, looking at this posturing.
"What did you say?!" the boy repeated angrily.
"I asked if you're stupid. Offering me the first attack without even summoning your spirit or using your defensive ability… Are you that tired of living? Decided not to wait for your battle with your brother and die by my hand?" I sneered.
"You…" Mubai grew even more furious, but still managed to keep himself in check. "Since you want it this way, allow me to teach you some respect."
"Dai Mubai, spirit master of the eighteenth rank, Evil‑Eyed White Tiger," he summoned his spirit, and his body began to swell with muscle so quickly that his clothes seemed about to tear. His originally golden hair turned white, with several black strands standing out among it. Four lines appeared on his forehead—three horizontal and one vertical, forming the character for "king." But the most notable were his claws: unlike mine, they were about four times larger.
"Zhu Zhuqing, spirit master of the thirteenth rank, Hell Civet," I also introduced myself and immediately activated my first ring. My claws lengthened and changed color from black to dark‑golden.
"Use your first skill, or I'm afraid you won't be convinced," I advised, preparing to attack.
"Since you insist, don't blame me for not leaving you a chance," his ring flashed, white light enveloped his figure, forming a barrier, and he charged at me completely open, clearly confident in his defense. Had he been serious, honestly, just by virtue of rank advantage alone he'd already be faster than me. Not to mention physical strength: his spirit is a tiger, mine a cat. But his arrogance played a cruel joke on him. Ducking under his attack, I easily pierced his barrier and drove my claws into his abdomen.
"Arghhh!" a scream full of pain tore through the air. The next moment I felt a powerful blow to my chest, my vision went dark for a second. My body was hurled several meters.
For the first time in this life, I experienced such intense pain. Everything swam before my eyes, and a moment later I vomited a clot of blood.
"How dare you attack the young lady!" Mu Ye's voice, full of anger, reached me, and I felt spirit power burst out from two distinct sources, its pressure anything but harmless. It felt like if that pressure focused on me, I would immediately be crushed into a bloody smear.
"She harmed the prince and received her punishment. Now heal his wounds," the prince's attendant replied calmly.
"Bastard…" the elder cursed, but it seemed he had no choice despite my condition.
With my last bit of strength, I focused on them and saw the smug expression on that idiot's face more clearly than ever. And before my strength left me completely, I swore to myself that I would definitely take revenge.
When I woke up, it turned out a whole day had passed. According to the maid, my internal organs had been damaged, and if the elder hadn't come in time, I might have died.
One didn't need to be a genius to understand it had been planned. First, suggest a spar, then nearly kill me for daring to win? Even if I ignore the fact that I'm a transmigrant, this incident alone would have greatly complicated any attempt to use spirit fusion. Or I'd misjudged, and it was merely a reaction to the fiancée daring to show herself stronger than the prince. After all, the Dai family would never tolerate an empress surpassing the emperor.
Soon, however, everything became clear: Father summoned me.
"I've been told that during a spar you insulted the prince and defeated him. Is that true?"
"Yes."
"…The emperor has already decided on your punishment. No one is allowed to help you obtain your second ring until you turn ten."
"What?!" I stared at Father in shock. Even if the Dai family wouldn't allow the Zhu family to surpass them, was the emperor really so arrogant that he'd punish someone for winning a spar and even restrict their development?
"What, you're not convinced?" the duke asked, giving me an icy look. I did not dare argue.
"Go back to your room. And remember: until you're ten, you are not to leave the estate without my personal permission, in any way or under any escort. Any attempt to hunt spirit beasts with someone else's help will be regarded as betrayal of the emperor's will," Father's voice sounded like the lid of a coffin slamming shut.
I bowed, trying to hide the trembling in my fingers, and left the study. My steps echoed loudly through the empty halls of the Zhu estate. Inside, everything was boiling.
Ten years? That was a whole two years later than I'd planned. And it didn't fit into my plans at all!
In fact, the safest and easiest way for me to reach godhood without worrying about going against the plans of the God of Asura and the Sea God was the following: at the moment when Dai Mubai ran away, obtain my second ring—ideally a thousand‑year one—and then run away myself to Nuoding City, where the protagonist should be living. As I recalled, he'd gotten his second ring long after reaching the twentieth rank, which meant we could, so to speak, exchange help: I'd help him obtain a thousand‑year ring and provide some important information; in return, he'd help me with the immortal herbs later, and if I managed to rope in his father, Tang Hao, we could safely obtain those herbs under his protection.
Honestly, I always found it funny in my past life when I read stories about transmigrators who, knowing nothing about medicine, suddenly turned out to be so skilled they could treat Titled Douluo Dugu Bo, and he instantly turned into a good boy who, unlike in canon, didn't demand proof of their skills by poisoning the main characters. And their knowledge of herbs was a separate topic altogether. Most of those herbs were extremely poisonous. Going near them without relevant knowledge was basically suicide.
"That emperor is just a cowardly cat," slipped from me as I tried to figure out how to get out of this. Acting entirely alone simply wasn't an option. First, I physically wouldn't be able to kill a suitable thousand‑year beast on my own. Go to a sect like the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda? What guarantee was there that even if I gave them information, I'd get what I wanted and not end up buried somewhere? Unlike Tang San, I didn't have a Titled Douluo patron who would make many think twice before meddling.
Go to the Spirit Hall? If Bibi Dong, the current Pope of the Spirit Hall, took me under her wing right away, there was a chance of success, but that would be direct opposition to the main character, who even got resurrected over the course of the story. What guarantee was there that simply taking away his immortal herbs would be enough to win? Especially when two gods had already decided they wanted him as their heir. And if I didn't get under that madwoman's protection, the Spirit Hall would become a death trap: if their people didn't eliminate me, the empire's assassins would. This wasn't the kind of situation where you escape to gain strength for future tournaments under better conditions—this would already be outright betrayal.
So, thinking it through, there were only two more or less viable options that could guarantee relative safety. The first was to flee into seclusion and slowly, painstakingly build my strength, practically forgetting about the benefits of civilization. The second was to follow the canonical route and blend into the protagonist's group with some adjustments for myself. And that was essentially the safest option right now.
The days began to pass in a monotonous sequence of training. Waking up before dawn, cultivation on the roof, breakfast, then sparring and exhausting running with weights until complete collapse. No leniency—Mu Ye seemed determined to prove that a spirit oath did not equate to a gentle attitude, especially after what had happened recently.
The sack of sand on my back got heavier almost every day, and strength exercises were added so that no part of my body would be neglected. Experiments, as it turned out, weren't carried out by me alone. Mu Ye, watching me, noticed that if he didn't heal me completely when I reached my limit, but only enough so I could go on, the effect became better.
"One more lap," his voice became synonymous with a death sentence.
Sometimes it seemed to me that even the walls of the training hall had absorbed the smell of sweat and blood. My claws had already torn my opponents' skin more than once, and their attacks left cuts, bruises, and abrasions on me. If not for his healing, I would have become a complete wreck in a week, if not sooner.
But there was something else: my body was gradually changing. I could feel my muscles becoming denser, my movements more precise, my reactions sharper. Situations where I'd previously barely managed to dodge now allowed me to counterattack with confidence. Sometimes I caught myself moving almost on autopilot—my body itself chose the optimal angle, distance, and moment to strike.
However, time was passing, and there was still no whale glue. I was already starting to get irritated: my plans had already been pushed back by two years, and without additional strengthening of my body, aiming for a thousand‑year ring would be sheer madness.
One night, when I had almost fallen asleep, there was a quiet, barely audible knock at my door. Not the way servants knock. Cautious but confident.
"Come in," I responded, sitting up on the bed, summoning my spirit and blending into the shadows, ready to attack at any moment. That incident had shaken me too much to be careless.
The door opened, and Mu Ye came in, making not a single unnecessary sound. Alone. No servants, no escort. He didn't have his usual light smile—only a focused, almost stern expression.
I instinctively grew more alert. Elders don't just wander into rooms late at night.
"Elder Mu?" I asked quietly. "Did something happen?"
He carefully and quickly closed the door, and I allowed myself to relax slightly.
"Something did," he answered just as quietly. "What you've been waiting for."
With those words he took a small, inconspicuous pouch from his belt.
"I sent my disciple to the coast," Mu Ye began. "As you said, he searched for deep‑sea whales and checked their age. It wasn't easy to find suitable ones, but…" he gave a faint, crooked smile. "He found them."
Three neatly cut, dark‑gray chunks slowly appeared in the air in front of him. They looked like strange, almost stone‑like plates with a matte surface and a light, barely noticeable inner sheen.
Whale glue. Real, in its original, solidified form.
"He managed to gather about a hundred pieces from hundred‑year whales; they were literally being thrown away as trash," Mu Ye tapped the smallest piece, about slightly bigger than a palm. "The thousand‑year glue… that took some work—people rarely hunt thousand‑year beasts on purpose; usually they're the ones attacking at sea. Here we have around twenty pieces." His gaze slid to a chunk about twice as large, with a slightly more distinct sheen. "And…" he paused for a moment, "ten‑thousand‑year glue."
My eyes widened in shock. I understood that people at this time didn't yet know about the use of whale glue, but that there would even be a ten‑thousand‑year piece? I definitely hadn't expected that.
"How did he get his hands on such a treasure?" I grabbed the ten‑thousand‑year piece without thinking. Outwardly, I could only see a difference in size, but if it was truly what he claimed, then if I took it before reaching the fortieth rank—if my second spirit finally deigned to awaken—then after obtaining my fourth ring my body would be strong enough that I could immediately start filling my second spirit with ten‑thousand‑year rings, letting me jump all the way up to the fiftieth rank and become a Spirit King. Provided, of course, I could properly hunt beasts of that age and my mind would be strong enough to withstand the spiritual shock that starts with black rings because of the resentment of intelligent beasts.
"My disciple learned that there was a Spirit Saint who, together with his team, had killed a ten‑thousand‑year deep‑sea whale for his seventh ring. This glue lay around as a mere keepsake, and we managed to buy it for a reasonable sum as a 'collector's item.'"
"That's incredible! And it's especially good that you thought to bring hundred‑year glue as well. It really would be better to practice on it at first to avoid risks," I said excitedly, then frowned. "The only thing is, we should think about where to prepare it. You can't make a fire in my room."
"That's not a problem. I'll have a room prepared with everything necessary."
"And my father won't interfere?"
"Your father won't get involved. It's your ability that earned you my support," the old man said confidently.
"All right… So, tomorrow then?"
"That's right."