The echoes of the lunch bell faded, replaced by the shuffling of feet as the students of the Spirit Hall Primary Academy filed into the afternoon lecture hall. The post-lunch lethargy hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the adrenaline of the morning sparring. The sunlight streaming through the high windows was golden and sleepy, catching the dust motes dancing in the air.
For the afternoon session, the instructor was a woman of severe elegance named Madam Grey. A Level 74 Soul Saint, her spirit was the Archive of Truth, a book-type spirit that granted her impeccable memory and analytical abilities. She stood behind the podium like a statue, waiting for absolute silence before she began.
"Settle down," she commanded, her voice not loud, yet resonating with a spiritual pressure that snapped the children to attention. "This morning, you tested your bodies. This afternoon, we test your minds. If you cannot understand the nature of the power you wield, you are no better than a wild beast in the forest."
Yorrichi sat near the back this time, leaning his chin on his hand, his eyes half-lidded. To the untrained eye, he looked bored, perhaps even lazy. In reality, he was conserving energy, his mind cataloging the structural weaknesses of the lecture hall and the breathing patterns of the students around him.
Renxue sat two rows ahead, surrounded by her new entourage of admirers. She sat with perfect posture, her golden hair shimmering, every inch the royal heir.
"The topic is Martial Soul Classification," Madam Grey announced, chalking the words onto the blackboard. "We divide spirits into two primary categories: Beast Spirits and Tool Spirits. Who can tell me the fundamental difference in combat application?"
Renxue's hand shot up instantly.
"Student Renxue," Madam Grey nodded.
Renxue stood up, smoothing her skirt. "It is a matter of manifestation, Teacher. A Beast Spirit possesses the host, enhancing their physical body with the attributes of the beast—claws, fur, strength. A Tool Spirit manifests externally as an object—a sword, a hammer, a tower—and is wielded by the host."
"Correct. Textbook definition," Madam Grey said, though her eyes narrowed slightly. "But is the division truly so stark? Student Yorrichi."
Yorrichi didn't stand up immediately, causing a ripple of whispers. He slowly rose, his expression impassive.
"The line blurs at higher levels," Yorrichi stated calmly. "A Tool Spirit master can fuse with their weapon to achieve a physical state similar to a Beast Spirit avatar. Conversely, high-level Beast Spirit masters can project their energy externally. The classification is useful for beginners, but it becomes a hindrance if one adheres to it too rigidly. Power is fluid."
Madam Grey raised an eyebrow, impressed despite herself. "An advanced insight. Sit down."
The lecture continued for an hour. Madam Grey drilled them on the sub-categories: Assault, Control, Support, Defense. She threw rapid-fire questions at the class.
"How do you counter a Control System master using vines?" Renxue: "Burn them with fire or light!" "Correct."
"How do you neutralize a pure Agility System master?" Yorrichi: "Predict their trajectory. Speed is useless if they run into your blade. Or, restrict the terrain." "...Correct."
The class groaned collectively when Madam Grey finally announced, "Ten minutes break. Refresh yourselves."
The tension in the room snapped. Children slumped in their seats, chattering loudly.
Renxue immediately turned to her group of girls. "Did you hear that? I knew the fire counter instantly! My grandfather says fire and light are the bane of all plant types."
"You were amazing, Lady Renxue!" one of the girls chirped. "You sounded just like a teacher!"
Renxue preened, basking in the praise. She glanced back at Yorrichi, who had pulled a small, worn notebook from his spatial tool and was sketching a diagram of the lecture hall. She wanted to wave at him, to pull him into her circle, but she remembered his advice. Social dynamics. I must build my own kingdom. So, she turned back to her friends, laughing at a joke she barely heard.
Yorrichi watched her from afar, a faint sense of relief in his chest. She was thriving. He returned to his sketch. He wasn't drawing the room; he was drawing the flow of soul power Madam Grey used to amplify her voice. Interesting, he thought. She circulates it through the throat meridian.
The break ended, and the mood shifted. Madam Grey returned to the podium, her expression solemn.
"Now," she said, her voice lowering. "History. Specifically, the origin of the Spirit Hall."
She spoke of the ancient times, of a world overrun by chaotic, evil soul beasts. She spoke of humanity's desperation, and the descent of the Angel God, the Seraphim, who cleansed the darkness and established the Spirit Hall as a beacon of order and protection for all Soul Masters.
"We are not merely an organization," Madam Grey said, her eyes shining with fanaticism. "We are the guardians of humanity. We regulate the Soul Masters to prevent chaos. We hunt the evil masters who abuse their power. The Pope is the shield that guards the realm."
Renxue puffed out her chest, pride radiating from her. This was her lineage. Her family.
Yorrichi, however, listened with a cynical ear. In his past life, he had seen organizations that claimed to protect humanity while harboring their own darkness. The Demon Slayer Corps was noble, but the government? The samurai lords? They were often corrupt.
History is written by the victors, Yorrichi mused. The Spirit Hall controls the narrative. They paint themselves as saviors, but power always seeks to expand. I wonder what the 'evil' soul masters would say?
Madam Grey asked a few more questions about historical dates and treaties. Yorrichi answered when called upon, his voice monotone, reciting the facts perfectly while keeping his own interpretations locked away behind his calm eyes.
Finally, the bell rang, signaling the end of the first day.
"Dismissed," Madam Grey announced.
The students surged toward the exit. Outside the gates, the evening light was turning the sky a deep, bruised purple. Waiting by the main pillar was a familiar figure—Bibi Dong. Or rather, her clone.
The clone stood perfectly still, a gentle smile on her face. Renxue ran to her, bursting with stories.
"Mother! I answered every question! And I made three friends! And the teacher said I was 'textbook perfect'!"
"I am very proud of you, Renxue," the clone said, smoothing her hair. She looked at Yorrichi, who walked up slowly, his hands in his pockets. "And you, Yorrichi?"
"It was... informative," Yorrichi said simply. "The library is better."
Bibi Dong's clone chuckled, taking a hand of each child. As they walked back toward the residence, Renxue chattered non-stop about a girl named Yan who had a funny laugh, while Yorrichi walked silently on the other side, his mind already dissecting the day's lessons, filtering the useful techniques from the propaganda. To the world, they were a happy family returning home. To the shadows watching, they were the future rulers of the world.
While her children walked home in the safety of the city, the true Bibi Dong was currently dancing with death hundreds of miles away.
The setting was a jagged canyon on the outskirts of the Star Dou Forest, a place known as the Razorwind Gorge. The air here screamed as it was forced through narrow rock formations, creating natural wind blades.
Bibi Dong stood in the center of the gorge. Facing her was a nightmare made of flesh and wind—a 75,000-year-old Storm-Claw Manticore.
The beast was massive, with the body of a lion, wings of a bat, and a tail tipped with poisonous spikes. It roared, a sound that shattered nearby rocks, and lunged at her with speed that would make a Soul Douluo blur.
Bibi Dong did not summon her armor. She did not use her devastating spatial rending attacks. She stood with her arms at her sides, her eyes glowing with a calm, violet light.
"Ninth Skill: Shadow Merging."
Just as the Manticore's massive claw, wreathed in wind blades, was about to decapitate her, Bibi Dong's physical form dissolved. She didn't dodge; she simply became the shadow cast by the Manticore's own wing.
The claw passed harmlessly through the space she had occupied a millisecond before.
The Manticore stumbled, confused by the lack of impact. Before it could regain its balance, Bibi Dong exploded out of the shadow of a rock ten meters behind it.
"Ninth Skill: Abyssal Whip - Shadow Binding."
From the darkness of the gorge floor, tendrils of solid, inky blackness erupted. They weren't just constructs; they were extensions of the Abyssal Dark Panther's will. They lashed out, wrapping around the Manticore's wings, its hind legs, and its throat.
The Manticore shrieked, trying to flare its soul power to burst the bonds. But the moment the shadows touched its skin, the chilling effect took hold. The beast's soul power circulation froze. The wind blades around its claws flickered and died.
The control is absolute, Bibi Dong analyzed, her mind operating with cold precision. The binding strength scales with the darkness of the environment. In this gorge, the shadows are deep. I can hold a 75,000-year beast for exactly six seconds.
Six seconds was an eternity in a battle of Titled Douluos.
The Manticore roared again, its eyes glowing red, breaking one of the shadow chains with sheer brute force. It whipped its tail around, firing a barrage of poison spikes.
Bibi Dong didn't block. She stepped sideways, her foot sinking into the shadow of a pebble, and she merged again, reappearing instantly in the air above the beast's head.
She wasn't trying to kill it quickly. She was polishing the transition. Merge. Reappear. Bind. Merge. Reappear. She was turning the battlefield into a chessboard where she occupied every square at once.
After twenty minutes of this terrified dance—where the Manticore couldn't touch her, and she relentlessly restricted its movements—the beast collapsed, exhausted and terrified, wrapped in a cocoon of shadow chains.
Bibi Dong landed lightly on a rock pinnacle, her breathing barely elevated. I can fight a Super Douluo with this, she concluded. If I combine this mobility with my Death God Domain... Qian Xunji won't be able to touch me.
She raised her hand to deliver the final blow, to end the creature's misery, when a sudden, high-frequency vibration buzzed against her thigh.
She paused, the killing intent vanishing instantly. She reached into her storage tool and pulled out the jade token given to her by Dugu Bo. It was pulsing with a rhythmic green light—a signal of urgency. Not an emergency SOS, but a request for an immediate meeting.
Dugu Bo? Bibi Dong frowned. He knows I am busy. If he is signaling me now, it must be significant. Has something happened with his cultivation? Or... has he found something related to the herbs?
She looked at the Manticore, which was still struggling feebly. "It is your lucky day," she murmured. With a wave of her hand, the shadow chains dissolved into mist.
She didn't wait to see the beast flee. She turned her gaze toward the Sunset Forest, where Dugu Bo's sanctuary lay.
The Sanctuary, she thought, her mind racing back to the Ancient Tome she had been reading. She had confirmed the existence of special-grade plants, but she hadn't yet done a full inventory of the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well. If Dugu Bo was calling her there, it was the perfect opportunity to verify her theories about the Immortal Herbs.
I need those herbs for Yorrichi, she decided, her maternal instinct overriding her warrior's bloodlust. The Black Stone is a mystery, but the herbs are a certainty. If I can find the Star Anise Mysterious Ice Grass or the Infernal Delicate Apricot... I can fix any flaw in his foundation.
She engaged her soul power, her figure blurring. She didn't just fly; she used the shadows of the clouds above to skip across the sky, moving with terrifying speed toward the Sunset Forest.
The hunt for beasts was over. The hunt for Evolution had begun.