Does the Celestial Master call this a small toy? I'll become a Douluo on the spot

Ye Lingling reached out to catch it.

The moment the jade pendant landed in her palm, a gentle heat seeped from its surface, warm and soothing, creeping up her fingers.

It wasn't scalding, just warm, much like clutching a hand warmer in the dead of winter.

She lowered her head to take a look.

The white jade was translucent, with faint, flowing light wandering within, circling round and round.

The fine patterns along the edge were only visible upon closer inspection, carved with exquisite detail.

Beautiful.

Ye Lingling flipped the pendant over and over, examining it three times.

Then, she tucked it carefully into her bodice, placing it right against her chest.

The fabric of her simple clothes pressed against her skin, the pendant creating a small, rounded bulge underneath.

It was warm.

This was the first time the Celestial Master had ever given her anything.

From the moment she began guarding this stone gate at thirteen until now—five years, over eighteen hundred times scrubbing the Daoist patterns, and hundreds of buckets of spirit spring water replaced—the Celestial Master had never spoken more than three words to her at once.

Today, he had spoken her name and given her a gift.

Her heart felt sweet, a sweetness rising from her chest all the way to her throat.

Ye Lingling bowed deeply. Her waist bent to ninety degrees, her forehead nearly touching her knees.

"Celestial Master, Lingling takes her leave. Please rest well."

Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Biting her lip, she backed toward the doorway, her footsteps light to the extreme, terrified that the soles of her shoes might make even the slightest sound against the stone floor.

Upon reaching the stone gate, she bowed once more.

Only then did she turn around, tiptoeing as she slipped out.

The stone gate closed slowly behind her.

With a "click," the gap vanished.

Ye Lingling stood outside the gate, both hands pressed against her chest, holding the jade pendant through her clothes.

Her heart hammered wildly, and her face felt as hot as if it had been scorched by fire.

She took two deep breaths of the mountain air.

It was cold, carrying the scent of pine needles.

She patted her cheeks, smoothed the damp strands of hair on her forehead, lifted her skirt, and walked along the bluestone path toward the main gate of the Daoist temple.

The overturned wooden bucket still lay on the steps, water spilled everywhere.

She bent down to pick it up, tucked it under her arm, and walked down the wet stone steps, one step at a time.

Hum, hum, hum~

A little tune escaped her lips again, the melody even more off-key than before, though she remained completely oblivious.

At the main gate of the temple, the two mottled wooden doors stood half-ajar.

Ye Lingling squeezed through sideways, her foot landing on the first bluestone slab outside the threshold—

Her chest exploded.

Not figuratively; the white jade pendant resting against her skin suddenly erupted, without any warning, into a blinding, crimson-gold light.

The light surged out from the seams of her clothes, from her collar, and from her cuffs.

She was encased in a shell of crimson gold, so bright that Ye Lingling reflexively squeezed her eyes shut.

Then, the jade pendant shattered.

She heard the sound of it breaking—"crack," crisp, clean, and without a hint of hesitation.

The shards did not pierce her flesh. In fact, the shards did not fall at all.

Because at the very same instant it shattered, a force so vast that her brain instantly shut down surged out from those fragments.

It surged into her skin.

It surged into her meridians.

It surged into every inch of her bones, every spirit vein, and every acupuncture point in her body.

"Ah—!"

Ye Lingling let out a shrill cry, the wooden bucket slipping from under her arm and clattering down the stone steps, bouncing far away.

She collapsed to her knees, hands bracing against the ground, her fingers digging into the gaps between the stones.

It was too hot.

Her entire body felt as if it had been thrown into magma, every inch of her skin burning.

The soul power within her body went mad—that energy, which had originally been only level thirty-two and sluggishly flowing through her meridians, was swept up by the incoming force and began to skyrocket.

Level thirty-five.

Level forty.

Level fifty.

Her Nine-Heart Begonia martial soul released automatically within her body.

Pale pink light exploded from her, one flower, two, three—the phantom of her martial soul emerged behind her, its petals blooming layer by layer.

Level sixty.

Level seventy.

Ye Lingling's body arched, her back bending like a bow, the veins on her forehead throbbing violently.

Her ten fingers dug into the crevices of the stone, two of her nails split, and blood seeped out, mixing with the rainwater on the ground as it flowed away.

Yet, she could not feel any pain at all.

Her soul power continued to rise.

Level eighty—the realm of an eight-ring Soul Douluo flashed by in an instant, without even a pause.

Eighty-five.

Eighty-eight.

Ninety.

BOOM—!

A majestic wave of air exploded from within Ye Lingling, sweeping out in all directions with her as the center.

The gate of the Taoist temple slammed against the wall with a loud bang, the door panels cracking in two places.

Gravel on the bluestone path was sent flying, striking the ancient trees on both sides with a rhythmic pattering.

The bottleneck of level ninety was shattered just like that.

Without any resistance, without any stagnation.

She hit it, it shattered, and she passed through.

Immediately following—

Those shattered fragments of the jade pendant dissolved in the crimson-gold light. They transformed into a soul ring.

Entirely crimson red.

A hundred-thousand-year soul ring.

The color was so deep it bordered on black, carrying a heavy, oppressive weight that spanned a hundred thousand years of time.

The soul ring did not repel her.

It did not even wait for Ye Lingling to respond—it flew over of its own accord, silently sinking into her body and embedding itself into the position of the ninth soul ring.

It locked perfectly with the origin of the Nine-Heart Begonia martial soul.

Seamlessly.

As if it had been tailor-made for her.

The crimson-gold light began to dissipate, fading away in wisps from the outermost layer, revealing Ye Lingling's figure kneeling on the ground.

She remained in a position with her hands supporting her, her ten fingers still embedded in the stone crevices, half her hair disheveled, beads of sweat from her forehead hitting the stone slabs one by one.

Her entire body was trembling.

It was not from pain, nor from cold.

It was the lingering resonance of the power that had just filled her entire body and then abruptly receded, still swirling through her meridians, leaving her bones tingling with numbness.

Level ninety.

Title Douluo.

Ye Lingling knelt where she was, her mind a blank buzz.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

She tried again, her throat bobbing, and managed to squeeze out a breathy sound.

Title Douluo.

From a level thirty-two Soul Elder to a Title Douluo.

A little trinket.

The exact words the Celestial Master had said—"A little trinket, I'm giving it to you."

A little trinket had smashed her directly from level thirty-two to level ninety.

That "not big, only two knuckles wide" white jade pendant.

Ye Lingling lay on the ground, tears pouring out uncontrollably.

Drip, drop. They hit the cracked bluestone, spreading out and mingling with the blood seeping from between her fingers.

It wasn't sadness. It was a shock so profound it was impossible to digest.

She had lived for eighteen years.

She had cultivated for twelve, stuck at level thirty-two for three whole years, practicing until midnight every day, her progress as slow as a snail's crawl.

She had thought that if she could even touch level fifty in this lifetime, it would be a miracle from her ancestors.

And yet.

A jade pendant.

Ye Lingling scrambled up from the ground and turned around.

One half of the Taoist temple's gate hung crookedly, and the bluestone path behind it wound upward through the morning mist toward the seclusion chamber at its end.

She knelt down stiffly.

Her knees struck the stone slab with a sharp crack.

The first kowtow: her forehead hit the ground with a heavy, dull thud.

The second kowtow: even heavier.

A shallow mark was etched into the stone by her forehead.

The third kowtow.

With her forehead pressed against the icy stone, tears streamed down the bridge of her nose.

Ye Lingling's lips trembled, but she couldn't utter a single word. Her throat was completely constricted.

Three generations—her great-grandmother, her mother, and now her.

They had guarded an empty mountain, serving a tightly sealed stone door.

Today, it had all been repaid. Repaid with interest.

"No need for thanks. Get up."

That light, languid voice drifted from the depths of the temple, passing through the corridor and the mountain gate to reach her ears.

It was neither loud nor soft, neither hurried nor slow.

Ye Lingling jerked her head up. The red mark on her forehead was strikingly visible.

Shen Yichen's voice continued.

"I have a task for you."

Ye Lingling scrambled to her feet in a flurry, her knees covered in dust and grit. She wiped the tears from her face, took two steps inside, stood still, and bowed deeply.

"Please command me, Celestial Master! Lingling will not refuse even if it means death!"