The penultimate day before the Awakening Ceremony dawned not with a bang, but with a golden, suffocating silence. In the private training grounds of the Supreme Pontiff's estate, the air felt thick—charged with the latent potential of two children on the verge of godhood.
The morning dew still clung to the blades of grass, shimmering like scattered diamonds under the first tentative rays of the sun, but the tranquility of the setting was at odds with the intensity radiating from the small figure in the center of the yard.
Yorrichi stood before his usual target, a scarred redwood branch that had been reinforced with iron bands to withstand his daily assaults. His little muscles were lean, defined by several days of the rigorous "Total Concentration Breathing" (TCB) he had revived and adapted from his past life.
In the silence of the morning, the only sound was the rhythmic, whistling hiss of his breath—a sound that seemed to vibrate the very air around him. Today, however, he wasn't just building the vessel; he was attempting to ignite the flame.
TCB: Constant, he whispered internally, his lungs expanding to their absolute limit.
The air rushed into his lungs, but this time, he didn't hold it in the traditional sense. Instead, he forced the oxygen to circulate in a violent, high-pressure spiral within his chest, pushing the enriched blood into every capillary and fiber of his young body. He was attempting to mimic the internal heat of his previous life's ultimate technique—the Sun Breathing. His heart rate skyrocketed, a frantic drumming against his ribs, and his blood began to run hot—searingly hot—until his very skin took on a faint, reddish tint and steam began to rise from his shoulders in the cool morning air.
Sun Breathing, First Form: Dance.
He moved. It wasn't the clumsy strike of a child, nor even the calculated move of a student. It was a singular, horizontal slash that moved with the fluid, mesmerizing grace of a flickering flame caught in a gale. For a fraction of a second, the friction of his wooden sword against the air, combined with the sheer, concentrated intensity of his focused intent and the biological heat of his lungs, caused a phenomenon that shouldn't exist in this world without an active Martial Spirit.
A faint, ethereal golden glow coated the edges of the wooden sword, trailing behind it like a comet's tail. As the blade struck the iron-reinforced branch, it didn't just dent the wood. It left a charred, smoking line, smelling of ozone and burnt sap, as if the wood had been touched by a white-hot iron.
"What was that?!" Renxue cried out, her own practice forgotten. She dropped her training stave, her eyes wide as saucers, and ran over to peer at the smoking mark on the tree. "Brother, your sword... it turned into a tiny sun! I saw it! It was glowing!"
Bibi Dong, standing several paces away under the shade of a weeping willow, felt a jolt of genuine shock ripple through her spiritual sense. She had seen Titled Douluos create elemental effects with a mere thought, but to see a five-year-old—without a single drop of active Soul Power or a manifested Spirit—generate actual thermal energy through pure physical technique was unheard of in the history of the Douluo Continent.
"Yorrichi," Bibi Dong said, her voice steady to hide her racing mind as she stepped forward. She reached out, touching the charred wood; it was still uncomfortably hot to the touch. "That glow... what was the sensation in your chest when you moved? How did you manifest fire from a wooden stick?"
Yorrichi lowered the wooden sword, his breathing heavy and ragged, but his eyes remained clear. He felt the familiar ache of a body pushed beyond its chronological limits. "It's just... breathing, Mother. I imagined the sun in my lungs, and the heat just followed the sword. I wanted it to be fast, so I made it hot."
He didn't want to explain the complexity of the Hinokami Kagura or the legacy of the Sun Breathing yet. In this world of Spirits and Rings, his knowledge was a dangerous anomaly. To them, it had to remain a "prodigy's whim"—a genius's unique interpretation of physical training.
Renxue, never one to be outdone, spent the rest of the morning trying to "breathe like the sun." She squeezed her eyes shut, puffed out her cheeks, and tried to force the air into her belly until she turned a alarming shade of bright red.
"Hoo... haaa... Mother, is it glowing yet?" she asked, looking hopefully at her stave.
Bibi Dong watched as her daughter nearly fainted from hyperventilation, eventually catching the girl before she could topple over. "Patience, my little angel. Your path will be different from your brother's, but no less bright." She shared a look with Yorrichi, one of amused concern and deep, lingering curiosity.
As the noon sun peaked, casting short, dark shadows across the palace, Bibi Dong executed her usual routine. She activated the clone, imbuing it with enough spiritual essence to appear life-like and attentive. While the "Mother" sat on the porch reading a book to the children as they ate their fruit, the true Bibi Dong vanished.
She traveled with a speed that defied the wind, heading deep into the Outer Circle of the Star Dou Great Forest. She needed a level of combat that would push her newly ascended Level 91 cultivation to its limits, far away from the prying eyes of the Spirit Hall spies.
Deep within the emerald gloom of the forest, where the canopy was so thick the sun was a distant memory, she encountered a 75,000-year-old Obsidian Tortoise. Its shell was like mountain rock, infused with the power of gravity, creating a ten-meter radius of crushing force around it. Normally, a newly minted Titled Douluo would struggle against such a defensive beast, but Bibi Dong's twin spirits offered a versatility that defied standard ranking.
"Second Spirit: Soul Eating Spider Emperor," she whispered.
She didn't use her flashy light-based skills or the holy attributes of the Seraphim line. Instead, she practiced her Shadow Binding and Shadow Merging. She became a literal ghost, melting into the shadows cast by the giant ferns and ancient mossy trunks. The Obsidian Tortoise roared—a sound like tectonic plates grinding together—slamming its massive limbs down, but it was striking at air.
From the beast's own shadow, Bibi Dong emerged like a vengeful specter. Her hands, coated in the deadly purple poison of her spider spirit, struck the soft, vulnerable joints of the tortoise's legs with surgical precision.
Shadow Merge: Void Strike.
She flickered in and out of existence, her speed so great that she appeared to be a blur of purple and black. Within ten minutes, the massive beast, which could level a small town, lay paralyzed and defeated, its immense gravity field flickering out. She didn't kill it—she wasn't here for a ring, only to test her limits.
I am ready, she thought, standing atop the fallen beast, looking at her hands. My control over the shadows is near-perfect. Even against a Super Douluo like Qian Xunji, if I catch him in the dark... I can win. I can finally win.
The routine repeated for the final day before the ceremony. The palace was filled with the frantic energy of servants preparing ceremonial robes and polishing every inch of the Worship Hall. Qian Xunji remained absent from dinner, his presence a distant, cold pressure. Bibi Dong preferred it this way. Every meal with her children was a sanctuary, a quiet moment of bonding before the storm of history broke over them.
After dinner, she spent extra time with them in the garden. They caught fireflies, the tiny insects glowing like the sparks Yorrichi had produced with his sword.
"Look, Mother! I caught a star!" Renxue shouted, holding a glowing firefly in her cupped hands.
Yorrichi sat nearby, sharpening his wooden sword with a piece of whetstone, his movements methodical and calm. Bibi Dong watched them, feeling a swell of maternal protectiveness. She knew that after tomorrow, the innocent days of tea parties and dolls would be over. They would be seen as the "Future of Spirit Hall," and the weight of the world would begin to press down on their small shoulders.
On the final night, the air in the twins' bedroom was thick with anticipation. Renxue couldn't stop fidgeting, her golden hair a mess as she rolled around the bed, her mind filled with dreams of wings and light.
"Mother, will my Spirit be as pretty as yours?" she asked, looking up at Bibi Dong with wide, hopeful eyes.
"It will be the most beautiful thing in the world, Renxue," Bibi Dong promised, stroking her hair. "It will be a light that chases away all shadows."
Yorrichi sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his palms. He could feel the TCB rhythm becoming second nature now, his heart beating with a slow, powerful thrum. His body was a coiled spring. He wasn't nervous about the Awakening; he was curious. He wanted to know how the Black Nichirin Sword—the blade of the Breath of the Sun—would manifest in a world ruled by Soul Rings and Martial Spirits. Would it be a Tool Spirit? Or something more?
"Go to sleep, my little stars," Bibi Dong whispered, kissing their foreheads. "Tomorrow, the world will change. And I will be right there to watch you conquer it."