Location: Border of the Douluo Divine Realm – The Forest of Life
(Hui Xuanyan's POV)
BOOM!
The courtyard cracked beneath my feet as I was sent flying for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes.
Dust filled my lungs. Pain throbbed through my ribs. The dirt tasted familiar now—like shame.
I barely managed to land on one knee, my spear digging into the stone for support.
Across from me—Ao Man, the God of Pride—stood with all the patience of a glacier and the violence of a typhoon.
His silver armor was barely scratched, his blond hair still immaculate.
He looked like a statue of war.
"Get. Up."
His voice was not loud.
Nevertheless, it carved itself into my soul.
I gritted my teeth and staggered to my feet.
"I am up," I spat, blood trailing from the corner of my mouth.
He did not answer.
He vanished.
I did not even see the step.
Just—
CRACK!
His spear slammed into mine and shattered my stance. The shockwave burst outwards, shattering nearby training pillars and tossing the wind into a spiral.
I flew again. Landed on my back.
This time, I stayed down for a second too long.
"…Your reaction time is trash," he said calmly, walking toward me like a shadow.
"Your posture is too rigid. Your instincts are still screaming 'defense' instead of 'kill.' And worst of all—you're hesitating."
I pushed myself up, spear in hand.
"It's not that easy," I hissed. "This technique—Black Lancer—it's not just physical. It's like… it's like it's eating me."
He stopped.
Looked at me.
"Good."
I blinked.
"…What?"
He slammed his spear into the ground. The shockwave kicked up a cyclone of winds.
"It should feel like it's eating you. Because Black Lancer is not something anyone could easily master."
He pointed his spear at me again.
"You've inherited too much from your mother, Lady Sheng Ming—grace, empathy, restraint. As to be expected from her child. After all, she is a kind woman, a great strategist, and the ultimate healer. But this…" he gestured around at the wrecked courtyard. "This is different."
A pause.
"If you want to learn Black Lancer, you have to bleed. You have to hate. You have to kill the weakness in yourself without flinching. You must capture the enemy's weaknesses and attack quickly, accurately, fiercely. In other words, you must draw strength from your father—violence, apathy, and control. Those are what you need."
I said nothing.
My knuckles were white around my spear.
Ain's voice whispered in the back of my head.
"Careful, Xuanyan. This path isn't like the others. There is no light in it. There is no hesitation or mercy in battle. Hesitation is defeat, and defeat is death."
However, I stepped forward anyway.
Because I was tired of being a punching bag in practice.
"…Then teach me," I said through clenched teeth. "Break me. I'll keep getting up."
His lips twitched—not quite a smile. But close.
"Good."
He disappeared again.
This time, I saw it.
Barely.
Moreover, as his spear screamed toward me, I screamed back—met him head-on.
"You are quite special, you know that, right?"
He smiled as he effortlessly sidestepped my spear strike, barely even moving—his calmness only infuriating me more.
Nevertheless, before I could recover, his counterattack exploded forward like a thunderclap, a strike so fast and brutal it forced my hand.
"Adamantine Spiraling Spear—Absorbent Stance!" I roared.
My spear twisted in a wide arc, unleashing massive spiraling rings of soul power that rushed forward, absorbing and dulling the full force of his oncoming strike. The technique was barely holding—I could feel my form trembling, joints locking from the strain, the weight of the energy pressing down like an avalanche—but I held.
Then, with a cry, I redirected it—returned it.
He flew.
For a heartbeat, I saw surprise flash in his eyes as he crashed through the trees.
However, he rose again. Of course he did.
He brushed the leaves from his shoulder and shot forward, clashing with me once more. However, this time I was ready. My body shimmered with a layer of luminous power—I had enchanted it with my soul power and layered in holy light drawn from my spear.
He nodded in approval.
"The spear," he said, voice steady even as we clashed, "was once called the King of All Weapons. In addition, it still reigns supreme among the long-armed arms of the world. Not just in war—but in survival. For hundreds of thousands of years, it has been used for hunting, fishing, and defense."
I tried to keep up, each clash of our weapons ringing like the tolling of war drums.
"The length. The reach. The precision," he continued between strikes, lecturing me while pushing me to the brink of collapse. "You can target the face, then the feet, then the gut—all in an instant. A longsword may theoretically defend the whole body, but it falters in reach and clarity. Strike low and you overexpose your head. With a spear, every inch is a lesson in efficiency."
I parried, stepped, struck—and was parried in turn.
He danced backward, and then demonstrated: "My favorite trick? The attacking retreat. As your enemy rushes in, you shorten your grip—lunge—and impale them while stepping back. A swordsman will stab himself if they are careless. And trust me, they often are."
He was teaching me in the middle of giving me the beating of a lifetime.
"Quarterstaff style. Dual wield with a dagger. Wrestle with it. Trip them. A spear isn't just a weapon—it's a language."
Our spears met again, holy energy screaming from my side, dark divine power radiating from his.
Then his tone shifted—slower, deeper.
"Mastering the spear," he said, "means mastering distance. You must know your reach, your enemy's reach, the terrain—everything."
He stepped back, letting his spear rest as he studied me with an intensity that pierced deeper than any blade.
"During the time of the Dragon God, when the Divine Realm held more God-Kings than you could imagine—why do you think humans weren't surpassed by Divine Beasts? How did we compete with them?"
He answered his own question.
"Because we had technique."
His words hit harder than any blow.
"Divine beasts are stronger. Divine beasts are tougher. Nevertheless, against a First-Class Human God with perfected technique—against a god who has perfectly mastered their godhood and domain—the battlefield becomes equal. Technique is half the fight. And that half… is ours."
I stood there, breathing hard, battered and bruised.
Nevertheless, in my core—I felt it.
Something was rising.
He smiled again. Not kindly. Not gently. Nevertheless, with pride—and the cold promise of more.
Then—everything changed.
The world turned upside down—literally.
Before I could even realize what had happened, I was flying through the air, my body already healing from the vital energy I had subconsciously drawn from my mother's divine domain.
I landed with a gasp, knees buckling.
"You are very special," he said again, walking toward me as if this was a casual stroll through a park. "Your bodily constitution—the physique of Life and Destruction—inherited from both your parents… makes you one of a kind."
He crouched beside me.
"Normally, beating someone into the dirt does little. Muscles do not grow that way. Pain alone is meaningless. Even the blessed must train with care."
"But you?" His eyes gleamed. "You're different. You are beyond human. Beyond blessed. I will break you. Shatter your foundations. And then reconstruct you from ground zero."
"And when I'm done—" he paused, his voice heavy with certainty, "you'll be one of the greatest Combat Gods this realm has ever known."
My fists clenched.
My body trembled.
Nevertheless, it was not fear.
It was resolve.
"Just trust me," he said. "I may be the God of Pride—but I earned that title. And more so, the one your father trusted with his life."
He rose to his feet.
"There's a reason I was his first bodyguard."
After enduring a brutal four-hour beatdown, he sat slumped before his mother's personal garden — a sanctuary overflowing with radiant life energy.
Lush vines shimmered with golden dew, flowers pulsed with a gentle inner glow, and the air itself hummed with vitality. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Moreover, it made every cell in his battered body ache with reluctant gratitude.
He groaned softly, his healing body soaking in the life energy that naturally emanated from the garden. His bones were mending, bruises fading, flesh stitching itself together with eerie speed — all thanks to the divine vitality he unconsciously drew from his mother's domain. Yet, none of that stopped him from bitterly cursing Ao Man, the God of Pride, under his breath.
Sadist. Maniac. Battle maniac.
His internal rant was interrupted when gentle footsteps approached.
His mother.
She smiled warmly, as if she had not just watched him be tossed around like a rag doll by a smug, grinning god.
With elegant ease, she ruffled his hair — just enough to remind him that no matter how powerful he became, he was still her child.
"You look like a half-plucked phoenix," she teased, her voice like birdsong in spring.
Despite himself, he cracked a smile. However, it faded when her tone shifted to something softer, ancient.
"It's time I taught you something," she said, settling beside him as a gentle breeze stirred the sacred plants around them. "The Eternal Life Technique."
He blinked. Even the stewards and the old butler standing nearby stiffened slightly at the name.
"The Eternal Life Technique," she continued, "is divided into nine levels, each one embodying the sacred cycle of unending vitality — the very concept of life made manifest."
She extended her hand, and in her palm danced a glowing symbol — a sigil of life, radiant with holy and ancient power.
"This technique doesn't just heal. It transforms. It strengthens your life energy and refines it into life intent, imbued with a sacred aura. It's not only one of the most authentic cultivation methods for cultivating life force… it is the ultimate art of health, endurance, and longevity."
He swallowed, his battered body already resonating with the idea of it.
"But," she added, "it only works properly with the right physique — like yours."
He glanced at her, confused.
"You possess a rare combination — a Life-Affinity Physique fused with the intent and energy of Destruction. A contradiction, yet... a miracle. Your body can harmonize with multiple elemental forces without tearing itself apart. That's something no normal soul master could ever hope to do."
She smiled, proud yet wistful. "That affinity comes from me. The destruction within you… that's your father's legacy."
He looked away, unsure of how to feel.
"I have adapted the Eternal Life Technique to suit you," she said. "It won't just balance your dual nature — it will allow you to cultivate a new form of Qi. One that fuses both creation and destruction, life and death. Harmony and annihilation. You are... something new, my son."
Her words settled over him like a gentle rain. He did not fully understand what it all meant yet, but one thing was clear:
Ao Man might have broken him.
Nevertheless, his mother would remake him.
Moreover, what came next... would be divine.
"Ready, my little blossom?" she teased warmly, tilting her head.
Xuanyan gave a tired sigh but stepped forward, spear in hand. "As ready as I'll ever be, Mother."
"Good. Today, we focus on the Eternal Life Technique. Your body may hold destruction, but your soul still craves balance. Life must embrace destruction for it to grow strong."
She walked him through the modified technique — the sacred energy of life flowing like rivers beneath his skin, intertwining with the ever-churning storm of destruction that boiled quietly within him. She helped him guide it, shape it, and harmonize it — not by forcing them into coexistence, but by allowing both to breathe. With every motion, she showed him how to open his spiritual channels, how to merge the sacred Qi of life with the darker energies inside.
It was exhausting in a very different way from his earlier beatings. This was refinement — like stitching silk into steel.
"Focus inward," she instructed, her voice like a lullaby with the edge of divine authority. "Find the river of life within you. Let it rise. Let it breathe."
He closed his eyes. His body, already healed from the prior day's torment, was now brimming with energy. Not rage. Not destruction. Something softer — gentler — yet no less immense.
Life.
He felt it. A vast current beneath his skin, slow and ancient, but no longer dormant.
"Good," she whispered, stepping closer. Her fingers traced glowing lines across his back — runes of vitality, gateways to the Eternal Life Technique. "Now breathe through your core and draw it out. Let your life force become refined. Let it become sacred."
Hours passed like minutes. They moved as one — her guiding hand, his struggling concentration. As the sun reached its zenith, shimmering wisps of holy Qi circled his limbs, wrapping around the destruction energy coiled deep within his bones like a serpent.
Moreover, for the first time in a long time… the two did not fight.
They danced.
He opened his eyes, breathless. His body glowed faintly, not with raw power, but balance. Fragile as it was.
His mother smiled. "You've begun the First Level."
He smiled back, sweat-soaked and trembling, but content.
Hours passed, and when the training concluded, they sat by a tree adorned with crystal blossoms. Sheng Ming handed him a Purple Sun Fruit — a small fruit pulsing with vitality.
"You're learning faster than I expected," she said proudly, ruffling his hair again.
He gave her a sideways glance. "That's only because I nearly died training with Uncle Tan."
She chuckled. "That's what teachers are good for — nearly killing their students to make them stronger."
He groaned. "How are you both okay with that?"
"Because I know you'll survive. And because I believe in you."
As dusk fell, they returned home. Dinner was already set — a grand but intimate table under a canopy of glowing spirit-vines. Dad was already seated, looking relaxed for once, sipping some wine. His purple robes shimmered with divine heat, but the stern air he wore during training had been replaced with a rare smile.
"You look alive, boy," Hui Mie commented dryly.
"Barely," Xuanyan muttered, sitting across from him.
Sheng Ming took her seat beside them, pouring tea for herself. "No complaining at the dinner table. He still needs to be alive enough to train tomorrow."
Hui Mie smirked. "That's right. Tomorrow I am personally taking care of you."
Xuanyan nearly choked on his soup. "You what—?!"
Both his parents laughed.