The final month was a quiet one.
After two relentless years of training, of blood, fire, and mental agony, Qiang Ming found himself doing something alien—resting.
Not entirely, of course. He continued to cultivate, still bathed nightly in medicinal pools and sparred occasionally with the more rambunctious lions. But the edge had dulled. The pressure of death if he failed had eased. The moments stretched longer. The stars shone brighter.
He spent his time among the Pride—his Pride.
He played with the cubs, practiced forms beside the elders, and even got into arguments with Jin Yi, which usually ended with him getting slammed into the ground. He laughed more than he had in his entire life, and there were times he forgot entirely that the outside world still existed.
When the final day came, the lions threw a feast.
A true lion's feast—roasted meat in mountains, bones cracking under powerful jaws, laughter booming in the chamber. Qiang Ming ate kilos of food, his jaw aching from the constant chewing, his stomach stretched but his heart full.
It was a celebration not just of strength—but of belonging.
The next morning, the world changed again.
Qiang Ming followed Tian Jue Dui to the border of the realm. There, in a crackling fold of space, his Master activated the exit gate.
As light engulfed him, Qiang Ming turned once to look at the lions—his family. Jin Yi nodded at him in solemn farewell. The cubs waved their paws.
And then the world twisted—
And he was outside.
The sun hit him like a hammer.
Qiang Ming staggered, shielding his eyes. After two years in a star-lit realm with no sun, its sheer brightness seared across his senses. His skin prickled. His breath caught.
But within seconds, his body adapted. His eyes narrowed and recalibrated, the golden-violet irises dilating with unnatural precision.
His first full breath of the wild air almost staggered him again.
And then—his Master moved.
Tian Jue Dui didn't walk or run. He vanished in a blur.
Qiang Ming barely managed to catch up.
They tore across the land at insane speeds, the forests warping around them, trees bending away, the ground blurring beneath their feet. His Master said nothing, offered no explanation. Qiang Ming simply followed, trusting that wherever they were going was where he needed to be.
Soon, they reached the shoreline.
The ocean greeted them with a roar, waves surging under the moonlight. Tian Jue Dui paused only long enough to give Qiang Ming a look—
—and then stepped onto the water.
Qiang Ming blinked. He barely had time to reinforce his footing before they took off again, sprinting over the sea. The water bent beneath them, the sky above them warped. Space itself seemed to twist, and Qiang Ming realized something:
His Master wasn't just fast.
He was cheating reality.
After five surreal hours, land appeared again. The Douluo Continent.
Qiang Ming felt it immediately—its pulse, its rhythm. This was home.
They traversed the remaining distance to Shrek City in under two hours, crossing terrain that should have taken days.
But instead of returning straight to the Academy, his Master redirected them.
Their destination: The Spirit Pagoda Headquarters. The tallest tower in the world.
Qiang Ming could feel the weight of it in the air—history, authority, and the collective ambition of generations of cultivators.
Without even a pause, Tian Jue Dui made a few calls, flashed a badge that made every official turn pale, and within minutes, Qiang Ming was inside the Ascension Platform.
Three days passed in a blur of primal instinct.
He hunted tirelessly—crushing soul beasts, absorbing the ambient energy, refining his resonance with the Abyss Soul Hammer. He didn't chase bones. He chased growth.
On the third day, he felt it—the threshold.
The Soul Spirit evolved.
Ten Thousand Years.
The Abyss Soul Hammer pulsed in his chest like a second heart. It was ready.
They returned to Sea God Island not long after, stepping foot once again on the sacred grounds of Shrek Academy. Tian Jue Dui led him into a secluded courtyard—his personal space, hidden from the rest of the world.
"Let's see your Blackstone Abyss Hammer's fourth ring skill," the man said.
No fanfare. No delay.
Qiang Ming didn't hesitate.
He called forth the Blackstone Abyss Hammer. The familiar weight settled into his palm like an old friend. Four rings spiraled beneath his feet, black and menacing.
He closed his eyes. Felt the power well within him.
And then he spoke.
"4th Ring Ability – Destruction Wave."
A slow, deliberate surge of Destruction Energy swirled across the hammer's head—far denser than even SoulQuake Blow. When he struck the ground, a shockwave pulsed outward in all directions.
It was like a scream of entropy.
The core of the impact created a localized collapse, and then a 360-degree annihilation pulse erupted, latching onto everything it touched—**buildings, trees, air itself—**and began breaking it down on a molecular level.
It didn't explode.
It devoured.
A slow, creeping poison made of pure destruction.
Tian Jue Dui watched silently, his arms crossed.
Then he nodded.
"Excellent."
That one word—measured, exact—carried more weight than a thousand cheers.
He turned away.
"Spend the next few days here. Rest. I'll take you to the boats after I meet with the Pavilion Master."
And with that, he was gone—swallowed by shadows.
Qiang Ming exhaled and dismissed the Blackstone Abyss Hammer.
The courtyard was quiet again.
He sat down in the grass, the breeze cool against his skin, and let himself close his eyes. He slipped into meditation, his body still, his mind sharp.
The last few days passed in this rhythm—between silence, thought, and the quiet heartbeat of victory.
Training had ended.
The world was calling.
And Qiang Ming was ready to answer.