The God Realm stood timeless and serene above the heavens, an endless sea of divine light and flowing law. Yet for Tang San, it had become a cage. A beautiful one, yes—but a cage nonetheless.
He sat silently atop the Sea God Mountain, divine robes fluttering in the celestial wind. His expression, once full of clarity, was now marred by a storm of thought. The chains of divinity had grown heavier with each passing century.
He had long become the Sea God and Asura God, wielding two supreme authorities and earning the respect of all divine kings. But the truth had revealed itself slowly and cruelly.
The God Realm was not the pinnacle.
It was a stagnant world where growth was an illusion. A prison forged by ancient creators to contain beings of true potential, locking them into rigid roles—Sea God, Slaughter God, Life God. Names, titles… bindings.
Even with two godhoods, Tang San could no longer grow.
The divine laws he once mastered now resisted his will. He could feel it—subtle at first, now clear. The moment he ascended, a ceiling had formed. His fate had been stolen, and in its place was a scripted path he could no longer escape.
And worst of all, he wasn't alone. Every god—be it Qian Renxue, Rong Nianbing, or Bo Saixi—was trapped in the same cycle. Rule. Judge. Repeat. For eternity.
"No," Tang San whispered into the cold winds. "This isn't freedom. This isn't the path I chose."
He clenched his fists. There must be something beyond this. A place not bound by the God Realm's hierarchy. A state of being untouched by scripted divinity.
Then… it appeared.
A rift in space opened—silently, without fanfare. Not even the divine senses of the other gods noticed it.
Inside it lay a single object. A stone. Small, black, and pulsing faintly with chaotic light.
Tang San rose slowly, eyes narrowing. "A trick of the God Realm?" he asked aloud. "Or… something more?"
He reached out and touched it—and the moment he did, a flood of memories invaded his mind.
They weren't someone else's memories. They were his.
Another life.
Another timeline.
One where he had failed.
Where he had risen as the Asura God… only to fall into eternal stagnation, never able to surpass the divine chains. One where he watched helplessly as the God Realm decayed, unable to break through to true freedom. That life… had ended in despair.
But this stone, this artifact of chaos, held something precious: a technique.
A forbidden cultivation art.
Its name was unknown, unspoken even in his recovered memories. But its purpose was clear: to refine the soul and body slowly, evolving talent beyond normal limits—not by breaking through in an instant, but by continuously purifying one's essence. At each stage, it would sharpen his comprehension, improve his perception, and evolve his soul force. Bit by bit. No shortcuts.
It was the path of true godhood—one not granted by the God Realm, but forged by oneself.
Tang San's heart pounded. This was it.
The key.
But there was a price.
To follow this technique to its peak, he would need to abandon everything—his godhoods, his titles, his immortality. He would need to die.
And be reborn.
Tang San looked out at the divine lands below him one last time. "Forgive me," he whispered, not to others, but to himself. "I must escape this illusion."
He crushed the stone in his palm.
The world around him twisted.
Time reversed.
Laws shattered.
Somewhere in Douluo Continent…
A baby was born under a blood-red moon.
Blue Silver Grass surrounded the small wooden hut, and an ancient spiritual mist hung in the air. Inside, a woman wept silently as she held her newborn son. Her name—Ah Yin.
And her husband, standing nearby, was Tang Hao.
Their child, small and unremarkable, suddenly let out a cry unlike any newborn.
His eyes opened. Clear. Intelligent. Cold.
It was Tang San.
But not the same Tang San.
Days Later…
The infant Tang San did not sleep like a normal child. His soul, ancient and tempered by godhood, had returned. Yet he could not act recklessly. His body was new, his strength nonexistent. His divine powers were sealed.
Only the mysterious technique remained. It sat deep in his spiritual sea, a black vortex of knowledge pulsing faintly. He could feel its hunger—requiring soul power, comprehension, even pain, to activate.
He had time.
This time, he would not rely on fortune or fate. He would not accept the godhoods offered by divine thrones. He would cultivate himself—to the peak of existence, beyond even the Creator Gods.
Age 3 – Holy Soul Village
Tang San acted as a normal child—quiet, respectful, intelligent. But inside, his soul churned. Each night, while his father drank, he would sit in meditation under the moonlight and circulate the forbidden technique.
It hurt.
At first, his soul ached, his meridians trembled, his body rejected the alien flow of energy. But he persisted.
Each night, he forced himself through one more cycle.
And on the 33rd night… something shifted.
A strand of his talent—just a sliver—evolved.
He felt it. He could see the flow of spiritual energy more clearly. His senses sharpened. His mental strength expanded slightly. Not enough to draw attention… but enough to grow.
"It works," he whispered.
His lips curled slightly.
From that night forward, he cultivated two paths: the normal spirit power his village knew, and the secret technique no one could see.
Each time he advanced by one soul level, he gained far more than others.
Each time he broke a bottleneck, he gained a new insight into the nature of the world.
It was slow. Painful. But permanent.
Age 6 – Nuoding Academy
As expected, Tang San awakened the Blue Silver Grass.
Others mocked it as trash. He smiled.
He knew its hidden bloodline. Knew the lineage of the Blue Silver Emperor. Knew that within it was the potential for resurrection and spirit evolution that rivaled gods.
But more importantly… the awakening brought his first external soul ring.
And with it, he finally had the resources to activate the second phase of the secret technique.
That night, beneath the quiet dorms of Nuoding, he sat alone.
He bit down on a cloth to muffle his screams.
The energy tore through his organs, forcing them to refine and reshape. His bones creaked. His skin bled.
The pain lasted hours.
But when it ended…
He could feel three soul nodes where there should have only been one.
He opened his eyes, and the world looked… slower.
"Even time… bends slightly," he muttered.
The technique had pushed his perception beyond human limits. Not in brute force—but in clarity. Intelligence. Precision.
He began to plan.
And so the cycle continued…
Each year, Tang San grew.
Each soul ring increased not only his strength, but the effect of the technique.
His mind became sharper. His soul force more refined. He memorized entire manuals in minutes. Saw through illusions. Read emotions with terrifying accuracy.
But he remained hidden.
He did not reveal his true talent, his evolving body, or the whispers of divine memory that returned piece by piece.
He acted as a genius, but not a monster.
And deep in his spiritual sea, the forbidden technique spun like a dark sun, slowly devouring limitations.
He was preparing.
Not just to win in this world…
But to break the God Realm's illusion forever.
End of Chapter 1