Iron Sword Mega Evolution

He had no Innate Soul Power, a useless Martial Soul, and had only reached level twenty at sixteen...

By all rights, talent like that would count as minor genius among commoner Soul Masters, but in any sect, it would only be considered poor.

Yet Huang Tianzong had seen Zhou Qiubai fight with his own eyes.

That clean efficiency, that precise control over the rhythm of battle, and those terrifyingly calm eyes even on the brink of death...

Monster. The word suddenly flashed through Huang Tianzong's mind.

He watched Zhou Qiubai reach out and draw in the purple Soul Ring. He watched as it slowly descended and settled around Zhou Qiubai, then watched him close his eyes as a faint layer of purple light enveloped his entire body.

Huang Tianzong instinctively backed away several steps and found a relatively safe spot to sit, but his eyes remained fixed on him without blinking.

He knew that what was about to happen might overturn everything he had understood about Soul Master cultivation over the past thirty-odd years.

At that moment, as the purple Soul Ring settled onto him, Zhou Qiubai's consciousness seemed to be drawn into an ethereal world.

Zhou Qiubai did not lower his guard.

He knew that the most dangerous part of absorbing a Soul Ring had never been the energy itself, but the lingering will of the Spirit Beast.

He circulated his cultivation method, forming a gentle barrier around his mind as he prepared to "welcome" that will.

Yet this time, Spirit Bamboo's will was completely different.

It was so quiet.

Like a bamboo grove beneath moonlight, accompanied by the soft rustle of mountain winds brushing through bamboo leaves, like a dewdrop sliding from the tip of a leaf.

Zhou Qiubai "saw" its memories.

A thousand years ago, a tiny seed had drifted into this bottomless Ghost Cry Ravine on a chance mountain breeze.

There was no light at the bottom of the ravine, only the frigid water that seeped from the cliff walls year-round, carrying poison within it.

The seed struggled.

It longed to sprout, to grow, to touch that sliver of sky overhead.

But the soil was too barren, and the water too poisonous. Its companions withered one after another, rotted away, and became part of the earth.

Only it survived.

A hundred years later, it grew its first leaf.

Three hundred years later, it developed a faint spirituality and could sense every movement in its surroundings.

Five hundred years later, it mastered the ability to control its leaves.

Eight hundred years later, it became the ruler of the bamboo grove.

Its roots intertwined with those of the other Spirit Bamboos, forming a vast network through which it could transmit energy, turning every leaf in the entire grove into its weapon.

A thousand years later, it touched upon a threshold.

Then Zhou Qiubai came here.

The memories blurred at that moment.

It did not understand why this human had come to kill it.

It had only grown quietly here and had never harmed anyone.

Those who entered the bamboo grove had attacked first, because they wanted to hurt it.

It was only protecting itself.

Why...

Was that not allowed?

Zhou Qiubai sighed softly within his consciousness.

"Because this world is simply like this," he murmured, as though speaking to the Bamboo King, or perhaps to himself. "The weak are prey to the strong, and only the fittest survive. You want to live, and so do I. You want to become stronger, and so do I. That is all."

I was not wrong. This world was.

Zhou Qiubai opened his eyes and let out a long breath, feeling the Soul Power within him surge at an astonishing rate.

Level twenty-one, level twenty-two...

It finally stabilized at the peak of level twenty-two.

He had risen two levels in a row.

But that was not what he wanted.

So...

Level twenty-two fell back to level twenty-one.

He compressed his Soul Power.

However, that was not his greatest gain.

With a thought, Zhou Qiubai summoned his Martial Soul.

Then he froze.

What appeared in his hand was no longer that plain, unadorned Iron Sword.

Its entire body was like white jade, three feet long and as thin as a cicada's wing.

Fine silver patterns, as thin as hairs, extended from the guard all the way to the sword tip. A faint radiance flickered within them, as though they were alive.

Most peculiar of all was the sword's flexibility.

With the slightest motion from Zhou Qiubai, the blade naturally bent into a graceful arc before swiftly returning to perfect straightness.

He tried applying more force. The blade actually bent more than one hundred and eighty degrees, curling directly into a circle.

His fingers lightly traced the blade, and near the hilt, he felt two shallow characters in seal script.

White Clothes.

Zhou Qiubai's breathing immediately stopped.

This sword...

He knew it.

But...

Douluo Continent was a fantasy world, not a boys' love novel, right?

The White Clothes Sword.

The blade was exceptionally light and bright, as thin as a cicada's wing. It could be both rigid and flexible and rotate three hundred and sixty degrees. It had no guard, and its design was delicate. When wrapped around the waist, it resembled a jade belt, but when drawn, it was incomparably sharp.

He lowered his head and stared at the sword in his hand.

The jade-white blade, its gentle gleam, its flexible nature, and those two seal-script characters...

They were exactly the same.

What was this supposed to be?

A crossover collaboration?

He shook his head and cast aside that absurd thought.

No matter what, this sword truly suited him.

Its flexibility made sword techniques more intricate, its light, thin blade made it faster, and the lack of a guard meant more flexible variations.

And besides, it looked good.

If a swordsman did not show off, then he was no swordsman at all.

The moon-white blade, the silver patterns—simple yet elegant.

With a light flick of his wrist, the sword immediately let out a clear ringing cry that echoed among the rocks at the bottom of the ravine.

Huang Tianzong's eyes widened.

From the moment Zhou Qiubai began absorbing the Soul Ring, his gaze had never once shifted away.

As he watched that purple Soul Ring gradually merge into Zhou Qiubai's body, his heartbeat nearly stopped.

A thousand-year second ring—he had never even heard of such a thing.

That was not a thigh to cling to!

That was an elephant leg!

But what happened next completely overturned everything he knew.

The original Iron Sword had changed.

The blade could bend at will, yet when lightly folded, it still retained its resilience.

"M-My lord..." Huang Tianzong stammered, his voice trembling like fallen leaves in an autumn wind. "Your Martial Soul... evolved?"

Zhou Qiubai came back to his senses and nodded at Huang Tianzong.

"B-But Martial Soul Evolution... isn't that something only found in legends?" Huang Tianzong stood there blankly. "I heard that only those extremely rare top-tier Martial Souls might evolve when absorbing a specific Soul Ring... but your Martial Soul isn't..."

He wanted to say, Wasn't it a useless Martial Soul? But he swallowed the words before they left his mouth.

Zhou Qiubai seemed to understand his concern and smiled faintly. "Who said a useless Martial Soul can't evolve?"

Huang Tianzong was instantly rendered speechless, his heart shaking.

Indeed, who could make such a rule?

But over the past several decades in the Soul Master world, had everyone not believed exactly that?

A useless Martial Soul was a useless Martial Soul. It had no potential, no future, and was destined to struggle desperately at the bottom.

Yet the man before him had ruthlessly taught everyone a lesson with his strength.

When people saw conventions often enough, they mistook them for truth.

Zhou Qiubai said nothing more. He lowered his head to look at his feet. The sky-blue first Soul Ring from before had now turned a normal yellow.