The year Yu Xiaogang turned six arrived, and the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect prepared a grand Martial Soul Awakening. Guests filled the courtyard: affiliated families, representatives from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School and Clear Sky Sect, envoys from the Lower Four Sects, and even a Titled Douluo from Spirit Hall. All eyes were fixed on the Sect Master's son—expectation and prestige hung heavy in the air.
In the elders' pavilion, old grievances surfaced like scabs. "That year still shames us," the Grand Elder muttered. "We expected a new Sect Master's heir to rise, but look what happened." The Second Elder's sigh carried the weight of a reputation bruised beyond easy repair. Yu Yuanzhen sat pale and silent, the memory of that day a constant ache. He watched the heavenly curtain replay the past and wondered, with a father's helplessness, what choice in another world could have turned his son into a Titled Douluo.
The ceremony began. One by one, youths stepped into the awakening array and revealed their spirits: Yu Xiaochuan's Spirit Thunder Lizard with Innate Spirit Power level three; Yu Xiaofeng's Spirit Lightning Python at level two; Yu Xiaoyan's Spirit Thunderfire Gorilla at level four. Cheers and sighs rose and fell with each revelation. When Yu Xiaoxue's Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon manifested at level seven, the crowd erupted in praise.
Yu Xiaogang entered last, head held high, the image of youthful confidence. Sect elders and visiting masters exchanged flattering words; the Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School praised him openly, imagining a second Titled Douluo for the family. Yu Yuanzhen beamed, already picturing a future of doubled glory.
Light engulfed Yu Xiaogang as the array activated. The golden radiance suggested a powerful spirit; murmurs of approval swelled. Yu Yuanzhen rose, pride nearly audible in his stance. The crowd leaned forward, waiting for the spirit to manifest.
"Manifest, my Spirit!" Yu Xiaogang cried, raising his hands with the certainty of a child who believed the world owed him greatness.
The light shattered with a sharp bang.
Silence fell like a blade. Where a majestic beast was expected, a small, piglet-like creature trembled at Yu Xiaogang's feet. It squealed—"Luo Luo"—and instinctively hid behind the boy, as if ashamed of the attention.
Faces froze. Laughter, pity, and scorn rippled through the assembly. The proud posture of the Sect Master's son crumpled under the weight of collective disbelief. The elders' earlier confidence curdled into embarrassment; the visiting masters' smiles vanished. Even the Titled Douluo from Spirit Hall looked on with thinly veiled disdain.
On the heavenly curtain, the replay of that moment cut deep. The image of the adored child reduced to mockery stung like salt. Yu Xiaogang's jaw tightened; his hands clenched until his knuckles blanched. Tang San watched with a cold, unreadable expression, while others whispered and pointed. The boy who had once accepted deference now faced the world's scorn.
Yu Yuanzhen's face, shown on the screen, betrayed a father's helplessness. He had arranged his son's path, confident that family guidance would secure greatness. Yet the Martial Soul's cruel impartiality had undone those plans. The elders' earlier boasts and the younger generation's flattery now looked hollow, and the sect's reputation lay in tatters.
Bibi Dong watched the replay with a complex expression—pity, regret, and a faint, lingering fondness. The heavenly curtain's broadcast forced everyone to relive the moment that had defined Yu Xiaogang's fall from promise to ridicule.
As the ceremony's footage continued, the narrative of that day unfolded: the arrogance born of privilege, the contempt for those deemed beneath him, and the inevitable backlash when the Martial Soul revealed itself. The broadcast did not spare the sect's members from the truth: the acquisition of spirit rings, the careful arrangements of family sects, and the fragile advantage of lineage were all laid bare. For many, the lesson was bitter—talent and fate could not be engineered by pedigree alone.
In the crowd, reactions varied. Some sympathized with the boy who had been set up to fail; others felt vindicated, recalling how he had scorned those with lesser Innate Spirit Power. Ning Fengzhi and other observers exchanged knowing looks; the Clear Sky Sect's representatives nodded, their curiosity piqued by the parallel world's promise of a different outcome. Chen Xin, Sword Douluo, watched with a quiet interest, his mind already turning to the implications of a Dragon God bearing the same name.
The heavenly curtain moved the story forward toward the pivotal moment: the Martial Soul Awakening that would shape Yu Xiaogang's life. The replay ended on the stunned silence of the ceremony, the small creature trembling at the boy's feet, and the faces of those who had once praised him now turned away. The Douluo Continent watched, and the wound of that day opened again—this time under the unblinking gaze of a world that could now compare two fates and ask why one man's choices had led to ruin while another's led to godhood.