As the light of the awakening formation retracted from Yorrichi's small frame, it didn't dissipate. Instead, it condensed into a singular, razor-thin line of pitch-black energy in his right hand. The air in the Worship Hall, as previously warm and fragrant with the scent of lilies from Renxue's Seraphim, is still carrying the sharp, ozone tang of a looming lightning strike.
The katana in Yorrichi's hand was unlike any Tool Spirit ever recorded in the archives of the Spirit Hall. The blade was a pitch-black obsidian, so dark it seemed to pull the light from the stained-glass windows into its edge. Running along the length of the steel was a crimson, jagged pattern that resembled flickering flames—the "Sun's Breath" solidified into metal. Most strikingly, the blade possessed a distinct, elegant curve, far more pronounced than the straight, heavy broadswords favored by the knights of the Douluo Continent.
In the split second before the blade fully materialized, a shadow had loomed behind Yorrichi—a tall, haori-clad figure with a forehead marked by flame. It had lasted only a heartbeat, too fast for even the Titled Douluos and below to discern, but the titans on the dais did not miss it.
Qian Daoliu gripped the armrest of his throne, his knuckles whitening. Golden Crocodile Douluo narrowed his amber eyes, his predatory instincts screaming. They had seen it: those pitch-red eyes, a gaze that didn't just look at you, but looked through you, and an aura that felt capable of severing the very fabric of space.
What was that? Daoliu thought, his mind racing. It felt like... a soul that has already reached the pinnacle of existence. A God of the Sword?
As the katana vibrated in Yorrichi's hand, he felt a sudden, searing heat bloom in the center of his forehead. It was a familiar, pulsating sensation—the dormant mark of his past life trying to break through the veil of this new world. For a moment, his vision blurred, seeing the "Transparent World" once again, but as quickly as it came, it vanished, retreating into his subconscious.
Yorrichi blinked, a rare look of confusion crossing his calm features. It's still there... but the body isn't ready. Not yet.
He looked down at the katana. It was originally forged for a man, and in his Six-year-old hand, it looked comically long, the tip nearly touching the marble. But then, the blade shimmered. It shrank, adjusting its length and weight until it perfectly matched his small stature.
Cool, Yorrichi thought, a small, genuine spark of joy hitting his heart.
Simultaneously, a physical transformation swept over the twins. Within the span of a few breaths, their skeletal structures shifted. Yorrichi and Renxue both grew several centimeters taller, their limbs lengthening and their muscles becoming more defined. At Six years old, they now had the height and presence of ten or eleven-year-old children. It was the "Baptism of the Spirit"—the divine energy refining their mortal vessels to house the power they had just awakened.
"The Martial Spirit is awakened," Qian Daoliu announced, his voice regaining its boom, though his eyes remained fixed on Yorrichi's black blade. "Now... let us determine the innate talent. The Innate Soul Power test!"
The crystal orb was brought forward once more. The hall went silent. After Renxue's Level 20 miracle, the expectations were sky-high. Was this the birth of a second God?
Yorrichi stepped forward and placed his small hand on the cool surface of the orb. He closed his eyes, feeling the energy from the blade at his waist flow into the crystal. The orb began to glow... but it wasn't the violent, cracking light of his sister's test. It was a steady, soft light that climbed slowly up the markings.
It stopped.
"Innate Soul Power... Level 8!" the priest announced, his voice sounding somewhat deflated.
A wave of murmurs broke out among the lower-ranking priests and some of the Spirit Hall deacons at the back of the hall. A few snickered behind their hands.
"Only Level 8?" one deacon whispered. "After such a terrifying display? I guess a piece of iron can't compete with the wings of an Angel."
"It looks scary, but it's just a high-level tool spirit. A Level 8 isn't bad, but compared to the Princess... he's just an ordinary genius."
Yorrichi, however, wasn't disappointed. He looked at the orb and smiled a little—a small, serene curve of the lips. Level 8. In this life, that is more than enough. I can reach the heights of a Soul Master, and with my techniques, I will protect what matters. He felt a deep sense of peace. This sword was the companion of his soul. It had been with him from the first day he joined the Demon Slayer Corps to the final, tragic battle with his twin brother. To have it back was a greater gift than any level of soul power.
Bibi Dong, watching from the side, felt a pang of protectiveness. Level 8? How is that possible? That aura... it felt like a Level 99 Peerless Douluo for a second. She clenched her fists. It doesn't matter. He has me. He has his sister. Even if his grandfather ignores him for the "Angel's Heir," I will ensure he becomes the sharpest blade in history.
She also thought of the Black Stone in her pocket. It had reacted so violently to his awakening. Perhaps they are linked. I will show it to him when he is ready.
Qian Daoliu stood up, clapping his hands together. The sound was like a thunderclap, instantly silencing the snickering deacons.
"Good one, lad!" Daoliu shouted, his voice carrying a strange mix of relief and respect. He didn't look down on the Level 8; he seemed almost glad the boy wasn't a carbon copy of Renxue's power. "Do not be disappointed. A Level 8 Tool Spirit is a formidable start. I know you will do much more in the future."
He then turned his gaze to the entire assembly, his aura flaring until the golden light seemed to fill every corner of the plaza.
"And my granddaughter, Qian Renxue! Congratulations on being the chosen heir of the Angel God! I hereby announce that she is the designated successor of the Seraphim legacy. All shall respect her as they do the Pope himself!"
The hall erupted. "Glory to the Seraphim! Glory to the Princess!" The salute was deafening, thousands of Soul Masters striking their chest plates in unison.
Bibi Dong watched Qian Daoliu. Perhaps the old man isn't as blind as I thought. He sees the value in both, even if he prioritizes the legacy.
Renxue, however, was in a foul mood. She stood by the dais, her two pairs of wings long since retracted, her arms crossed over her chest. She glared at the crystal orb that had "insulted" her brother with a Level 8.
Level 8? My brother is the strongest person I know! she thought childishly, her cheeks puffing out. That orb must be broken. I'll investigate it when we get home. Humph! If anyone laughs at him, I'll burn their eyebrows off with holy fire!
Despite her internal rage, she remained polite and respectful on the outside, a perfect little princess, though her eyes promised retribution to anyone who looked at Yorrichi with "pity."
Standing at the side, Qian Xunji watched with a complicated expression. Level 20 and Level 8. A goddess and a... soldier. Well, at least the boy won't challenge his sister's authority. He will make an excellent guard for her. A black sword to defend a golden angel. Fitting. He smirked, already planning how to use Yorrichi as a shadow enforcer for Renxue's future reign.
Yue Guan (Chrysanthemum Douluo) then stepped forward as the twins returned to their mother's side. He was beaming, his face full of "teacher's pride."
"Congratulations, my little pupils!" he whispered, practically vibrating. "I knew you would be legends! Level 20! And a sword that makes even my skin crawl! We must celebrate!"
The ceremony continued for the other children of the Spirit Hall elite—descendants of Elders and distant branches of the Worship lineages. It was a high-caliber batch; many awakened spirits with Level 5 or more innate power.
One boy, a nearly seven-year-old named Fei Long, awakened a "Blazing Manticore" with Level 9 Innate Soul Power. It was a massive success for his family, and his father, a high-ranking Bishop, beamed with pride.
Fei Long, feeling like the king of the world, immediately tried to show off. He summoned his flaming spirit, making the air around him ripple with heat, and strutted toward Renxue.
"Princess Renxue," he said, trying to sound mature but failing as his voice cracked. "A brilliant awakening. Perhaps... we could train together sometime? My Manticore and your Angel would be a peerless pair."
Renxue looked at him with a bored, icy stare. "I train with my mother and my brother. I don't think a kitten would be able to keep up."
She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist, her mind already on what they were having for lunch. Fei Long turned red, retreating to the snickers of the other boys.
Yorrichi, watching from the side, found the scene immensely amusing. These children... even at this age, they are pursuing the opposite sex? This world truly matures its people quickly. Though, I suppose I cannot blame them. My sister is quite the beauty, even now.
He leaned against a pillar, his lazy, calm eyes scanning the crowd. Whenever an Elder or a judging Soul Master met his gaze, they found themselves instinctively looking away. There was something in Yorrichi's eyes that felt like facing a veteran of a thousand wars—a silent, heavy wisdom that made them feel like children.
The ceremony finally concluded as the afternoon sun reached its zenith. The Worships and Elders retreated to their respective halls for the inevitable political discussions that followed such a monumental day.
The central plaza began to clear, the elite families heading to their private estates for celebratory feasts.
"Lunch time," Bibi Dong announced, appearing beside the twins. She placed a hand on each of their shoulders, her touch warm and grounding. "You both did excellently. Today, you became Soul Masters. Tomorrow, we begin the real work."
"I'm starving!" Renxue cheered, her bad mood evaporating at the mention of food. "Brother, I want the spicy beef! And I want you to show me that sword again!"
Yorrichi nodded, his hand resting comfortably on the hilt of his black katana. "Of course, sister."
As they walked back toward their home, the "Golden Generation" of the Spirit Hall looked like any other happy family. But beneath the surface, the gears of the continent had shifted. The Sun and the Angel had risen, and the world would never be the same again.