Yang Fan repeatedly promised not to run away—finally earning Third Uncle's trust for some alone time.
Yunluo City's dusk felt strangely familiar.
Especially the large wooden tub still in his room—the very witness to his innate full soul power!
"Master," he asked, "is there any way to solve the Breaking Clan's 'automatic soul ring' problem at Soul Saint?"
He asked not just for Grandfather—but for himself.
At his growth rate, he'd inevitably become a Soul Saint someday… and face the sect's "curse."
"No solution yet," Yao Lao admitted.
He'd pondered this repeatedly since arriving in Douluo—to no avail.
This was their greatest hurdle here.
"No way even for you?" Yang Fan's hope dimmed.
"Don't lose heart, kid," Yao Lao encouraged. "No solution now doesn't mean never."
He'd studied soul rings:
When soul masters absorbed beast soul rings, they manifested their own—a sign of successful absorption and advancement.
Like Dou Zhe forming a Qi vortex or Dou Wang (King) growing Dou Qi wings—it was external proof of strength.
But Soul Breaking Spear soul masters gained an extra soul ring at Soul Saint—utterly unnatural!
"If your grandfather releases his martial soul, I might find clues," Yao Lao mused.
He'd seen Yang Wudi fight Spirit Hall members years ago—but reeling from the fresh betrayal, he hadn't paid attention. Now, the memory was lost.
"Have Grandfather release his martial soul?" Yang Fan understood: Yao Lao wanted to examine that extra soul ring.
I need to plan carefully… can't let Grandfather suspect anything.
"Mas—"
Before Yang Fan could speak, Yao Lao's eyes flashed—then he dissolved into mist, vanishing as if he'd never existed.
Someone's outside!
Years of master-disciple bond made Yang Fan instantly grasp the warning.
He already knew who it was.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he summoned the Soul Breaking Spear.
Absorbing the 50,000-year soul ring hadn't just granted his fourth soul ring—it'd pushed him to Level 44.
Just as he prepared to cultivate—
Knock knock.
"Xiao Fan, asleep?"
Yang Wudi wasn't naive.
He didn't believe half of Yang Fan's "three-year journey." But confronting him risked driving him away.
So he'd observed silently—to ensure Yang Fan hadn't strayed down dark paths or fallen prey to villains.
Finding no signs of evil cultivation, he relaxed.
A nine-year-old Soul Ancestor with abnormal rings but no corruption?
Progress!
The door opened.
Yang Wudi couldn't hide his smile at the sight of his grandson.
He placed a rectangular box on the table—blood-red wood, etched with arcane patterns, sized to Yang Fan's forearm.
"What's this, Grandfather?"
Such craftsmanship meant the contents were extraordinary.
"Open it."
Yang Fan eagerly lifted the lid—a blast of explosive energy hit his face.
Inside lay a crimson plant.
"Fire Spirit Grass?!"
He recognized it instantly—it was at least 10,000 years old!
The ultimate fire-attribute herb: versatile for any offensive soul master, a universal substitute in alchemy.
He'd spent half a year hunting one in the soul beast forest—and failed.
"This may not match your immortal herb gift," Yang Wudi said, "but it suits you perfectly."
He'd prepared gifts for every rank—from one to three rings.
But he'd never imagined Yang Fan would return as a Soul Ancestor.
That miracle left him dazed.
Now, this Fire Spirit Grass was all he could offer.
"Thank you, Grandfather!"
To others, it was just a 10,000-year herb.
To Yang Fan? With his current stockpile, it enabled five different Tier-3 pills.
"Don't thank me," Yang Wudi smiled. "The clan thanks you. Without your Blood-Clotting Powder formula, we'd have no prosperity—and I'd never have found this Fire Spirit Grass."
His eyes dimmed.
If not for the recent crisis, the Breaking Clan might've risen to prominence in a decade.
But with 300,000 gold soul coins' worth of medicine destroyed…
Yang Fan saw the worry—linked to the Elephant Armor Sect's ambush.
But he said nothing.
"Come!" Yang Wudi stood. "Grandfather has a place to show you."
Yang Fan followed without question.
…
Half an hour later…
They reached a hillside—Yang Fan's childhood training ground.
Where he'd forged his innate full soul power.
"Show me your strength," Yang Wudi challenged.
Yang Fan's Level 44 shocked him—but what if it was hollow?
What if immortal herbs inflated a showpiece?
"I'm coming, Grandfather!"
Yang Fan's fighting spirit ignited.
He understood: no holding back.
Soul Breaking Spear in hand—he shot forward like lightning.
"Good!"
Yang Wudi's eyes gleamed.
The boy grasped the spear's true essence—even after three years away!
"Retreat!"
Yang Wudi wouldn't summon his martial soul.
A mere Soul Ancestor, however gifted, was still a child.
He gathered soul power in his palm—ready to flick Yang Fan away and gauge his true strength.
But was it really that simple?
Four soul rings blazed!
All four enhancement skills activated—Yang Fan's power exploded.
His new Fourth Skill—Detonate!—granted 400% all-attribute boost, rivaling a Soul Emperor's aura.
Thrust!
Someone retreated—but it was Yang Wudi!
Shock froze the elder's face.
Yang Fan's level and rings amazed him—but his combat prowess defied belief.
My grandson… are you hiding a fifth ring?
If he were blindfolded, he'd swear this was a Soul King!
"Don't zone out, Grandfather," Yang Fan warned. "I'm going all out now."
No exaggeration.
He knew Yang Wudi would underestimate him—and his first strike held back.
"You little monster!" Yang Wudi laughed, joy eclipsing embarrassment. "Let's see your limits!"
This time, Yang Fan unleashed everything.
Four enhancements fueled his strongest thrust.
Yang Wudi countered simply—spear meeting spear.
Attack to counter attack!
The Soul Breaking Spear way.
Longer reach, greater strength!
Yang Wudi's twelve-foot spear neared Yang Fan's throat—while his own tip lagged a meter behind.
At the last inch—Yang Fan retreated!
He spun, deflecting the incoming spear with a subtle upward flick. Then—whirling—flames erupted along his spear.
"Flames?!"
Yang Wudi's eyes widened. First time seeing his grandson's martial soul mutation!
In that split-second distraction—Yang Fan's spear surged like a fire dragon.
"A self-created soul skill?!"
Rarely smiling, Yang Wudi now grinned ear-to-ear.
"Hah—!"
He thrust forward, shaking his spear—shattering the flames with concentrated soul power. Only heat lingered in the air.
"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"
Yang Wudi admitted his underestimation.
That fiery thrust? Soul King-tier!
His grandson wasn't a showpiece—he had steel hidden beneath that youthful skin!
"Grandfather, I still haven't mastered our clan's Ninth Skill," Yang Fan sighed.
Three years of trials taught him courage—but facing Yang Wudi revealed his lack of "attack-to-counter-attack" resolve.
"You'd be an idiot not to dodge!" Yang Wudi chuckled. "Our ancestors preached relentless offense—but never suicidal charges against stronger foes."
"Relentless" refers to your spirit and conviction—not stupidity and recklessness!
"Your strike must tell the enemy: 'You may wound me, but I'll repay you tenfold!'"
Yang Fan understood—though whether he could embody it remained uncertain.
"Tell me," Yang Wudi pressed, "what's that self-created skill called?"
That thrust was dazzling!
The clansmen would've been even more excited than he was—but Yang Wudi brought Yang Fan out at night to keep his strength secret.
"Chasing Stars · Blazing Fire!"
His first Dou technique given by Yao Lao—often mistaken for a soul skill.
"Perfect name!" Yang Wudi beamed. "Your mutated martial soul gaining flames? My Fire Spirit Grass was well-chosen!"
Suddenly, his expression turned grave.
"Xiao Fan…"
"The clan's future rests on you."
A nine-year-old Soul Ancestor with such talent?
Even without luck, he'd surpass Yang Wudi—and perhaps become the sect's greatest ever.
Yang Wudi's heart swelled with pride.
Only one worry remained: Who helped Yang Fan hunt those soul rings?
It definitely wasn't "beasts fighting while he looted"—someone powerful had aided him.
"Let's head back," Yang Wudi said. "I have news: next month is the Four Attributes Sects' gathering—here in Yunluo City."
The rotating summit happened to fall on the Breaking Clan this year.
Yang Wudi smiled—though he couldn't brag about Yang Fan's strength to the other elders.
"Next month?" Yang Fan's mind drifted.
Time flew—he'd missed two gatherings already.
He used to hate them (Tai Long always showed off), but now…
How's Grandpa Bai doing lately?
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