Appreciation

Qingluo pushed off the ground with her toes and drifted backward, avoiding the sweeping strike.

After steadying herself, she lowered her head to look at her palm. It was flushed red and slightly numb.

Li Hanche, meanwhile, had taken one of her palm strikes. His breathing had only grown somewhat heavier, a few beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead, and his eyes remained clear and focused.

Qingluo and Baiwei exchanged a glance, and both saw the same shock in the other's eyes.

Over these past few days of "hand-to-hand combat," they had watched this child grow stronger bit by bit.

At first, a single palm strike would knock him to the ground. Later, he had been able to keep his footing. And now, not only could he withstand a palm strike head-on, but he could counterattack as well.

This rate of improvement could no longer be described as mere talent.

He was practically a monster.

"Again."

Li Hanche's voice interrupted their thoughts.

He resumed his stance, his legs slightly bent and center of gravity lowered. He raised his arms to protect his head and chest. Though his posture was crude, like that of a complete novice, it already carried a faint hint of proper form.

Qingluo took a deep breath and exerted force through her feet once more.

The dull sounds of collisions in the courtyard continued for a full two hours.

Elsewhere in the same Heaven Dou City, someone was watching him.

It was a three-story teahouse, strategically positioned.

It happened to overlook the courtyard of the villa where Li Hanche lived. A street and several rows of trees lay between them, so the view was not entirely unobstructed, but for certain people, it was enough to see clearly.

Inside a private room on the third floor of the teahouse, three people stood by the window.

At the center stood a middle-aged man in a moon-white robe. He was handsome and refined, with the composed bearing of one long accustomed to high status.

With his hands clasped behind his back, he watched the thin figure in the distant courtyard being struck in turn by two maids, yet refusing to fall.

The Sect Master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, Ning Fengzhi.

To his left stood an elderly man with white hair and beard, yet a body as straight as a sword.

He wore a simple gray robe. His eyes were slightly narrowed as he watched the child in the courtyard, his gaze sharp with the edge of someone appraising a blade.

The guardian Douluo of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect, Chen Xin of the Sword Path, known to the world as Sword Douluo.

Standing to Ning Fengzhi's right was a young man in a moon-white robe. He was handsome, his temperament gentle as jade, with a faint smile at the corner of his lips.

Xue Qinghe.

The three had been standing there for some time.

Ning Fengzhi had come from the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's residence outside Heaven Dou City after hearing the two key phrases, "Innate Full Soul Power" and "top-tier mutated spear-type martial soul."

As one of the sects on Douluo Continent most skilled at discovering and cultivating geniuses, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had always been sensitive to such prospects.

He had come to Heaven Dou City specifically to see this child named Li Hanche, but he had not expected Xue Qinghe to take the initiative to invite him along.

Nor had he expected to witness such a scene.

"This child still hasn't gone to obtain his first soul ring?"

Ning Fengzhi spoke with a trace of surprise in his voice.

With Innate Full Soul Power as his foundation, obtaining a first soul ring and advancing to the Soul Master realm should have been a natural step. Any faction would have arranged it immediately.

Yet this child was clearly still stalled at level ten, without having taken that step.

Xue Qinghe's gaze also rested on the figure being beaten in the courtyard, and the corners of his lips curved slightly.

"No. He said to wait a little longer."

"Wait for what?"

Xue Qinghe did not answer at once.

He watched Li Hanche get knocked back three steps by Qingluo's palm, only to forcibly steady himself. His eyes carried an unfathomable meaning.

"He made a bet with a student at the academy named Zhao."

Xue Qinghe spoke with amusement.

"They bet on whether he could break the age limit for a first soul ring. Four hundred and twenty-three years—the ironclad rule recognized across the continent. He said he would break it."

Ning Fengzhi's brows rose slightly.

Of course he knew about the limit of four hundred and twenty-three years.

The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect had stood for centuries and had countless disciples, including many astonishing talents, yet not one had ever broken that limit.

This was not some man-made rule. It was the limit of what the human body could endure from soul ring energy—the red line countless Soul Masters had tested with their lives.

A six-year-old child wanted to break it?

"For that, the child said something quite interesting as well."

Xue Qinghe's tone was as though he were recounting an amusing anecdote.

"He said that limits were never meant to be followed. They were meant to be broken."

The private room fell silent for a moment.

Ning Fengzhi was quiet for a while, then turned to the elderly man beside him.

"Uncle Sword, what do you think?"

Sword Douluo Chen Xin had not spoken all this time.

Ever since he had stood by the window, his eyes had never left the child in the courtyard.

Hearing Ning Fengzhi's question, he did not answer immediately. Instead, he watched for several more breaths.

In the courtyard, Li Hanche was being attacked from both sides by Qingluo and Baiwei.

Qingluo struck at his chest from the front, while Baiwei's soft whip curled toward his legs from behind.

He had nowhere to retreat and nowhere to evade. Then he made a move that caused Sword Douluo's brows to rise slightly.

He suddenly sank his feet, planting himself into the ground like an iron stake.

Baiwei's soft whip wrapped around his ankles, but before she could tighten it, he tensed both legs and forcibly shook it loose by several degrees.

At the same time, Qingluo's palm landed on the iron garment over his chest.

The iron garment rang with a dull, resonant thud.

Li Hanche's upper body was knocked backward, but his feet did not move in the slightest.

Using the momentum of his backward lean, he explosively engaged his waist and abdomen, smashing his forehead into Qingluo's palm.

The timing of the strike was impeccable. Qingluo had just landed her palm strike. Her old force was spent, while her new force had yet to rise. Before she could withdraw her hand, his forehead struck it squarely.

Qingluo winced in pain and stepped back. When she looked down at her palm, she found that the edge of it had already reddened.

Li Hanche's forehead was only slightly flushed. He shook his head and resumed his stance.

Sword Douluo withdrew his gaze.

"Interesting."

He finally spoke. His voice was old and calm, like an ancient sword sheathed for many years, occasionally revealing a trace of its edge.

"What is the name of that little Zhao boy?"

Ning Fengzhi was slightly startled. He had not expected Sword Douluo to ask about that first.

Xue Qinghe clearly had not expected it either. After thinking for a moment, he answered.

"His surname is Zhao. I believe his name is Zhao Mengran. He is the legitimate son of the Zhao Clan, a second-rank noble family, with level five Innate Soul Power."

Sword Douluo nodded and did not ask anything further about Zhao Mengran.

He looked toward the child being beaten in the courtyard, and this time his gaze lingered even longer.

"That child from the Zhao family spoke of four hundred and twenty-three years—the continentally recognized upper limit for a first soul ring."

Sword Douluo's voice was unhurried.

"How did that number come about? Over countless years, innumerable Soul Masters tested it with their lives and futures while obtaining their first soul rings. For soul rings under four hundred and twenty-three years, the success rate of absorption exceeds ninety percent."

"Beyond that age, the failure rate multiplies with every additional year. Beyond five hundred years, fewer than one in a hundred succeed. Beyond eight hundred years, successful cases can be counted on one hand. Beyond one thousand years..."

He paused.

"There have never been any."

Ning Fengzhi said nothing. He knew this information better than anyone. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's library had dedicated records detailing it.

"But never having happened does not mean it absolutely cannot happen."

"That child's body training is extraordinary."

Sword Douluo's tone remained calm, but a trace of appreciation could be heard if one listened carefully.

"You cannot see it because he has not truly entered the field yet. But the way he redirects force when struck, his breathing rhythm, the contraction and relaxation of his muscles—all follow a method. He is not simply taking hits at random. He is cultivating with his body."

Ning Fengzhi was slightly moved.

For Sword Douluo to call it "extraordinary," it truly was extraordinary.

"And that final move."

Sword Douluo raised his right hand. His withered fingers traced a simple motion through the air: leaning back, gathering force, rebounding.

"Using his forehead to strike her palm seemed like a mutually damaging move, but his timing was precise. After Qingluo's palm strike landed, there was an extremely brief gap as she withdrew her force. He seized that gap. A moment earlier, he would have taken the palm force head-on and been unable to throw out his forehead. A moment later, Qingluo's hand would already have withdrawn, and he would have struck nothing."

He lowered his hand and clasped it behind his back again.

"For a six-year-old child to maintain such clear judgment even while being beaten—that is what is truly rare. Rarer than Innate Full Soul Power or a top-tier martial soul."

Ning Fengzhi smiled.

"Children who can make Uncle Sword say so much are rare indeed."

Sword Douluo did not respond, but neither did he deny it.

Ning Fengzhi turned to Xue Qinghe.

"Qinghe, how do you intend to arrange things for this child? He cannot keep delaying the matter of obtaining his first soul ring."

Xue Qinghe looked at the figure who had once again taken up his stance to endure more strikes.

"I am not the one delaying him."

"He is the one delaying me. A few days ago, I sent someone to ask whether he wanted the Royal Soul Hunting Team arranged to accompany him in obtaining his first soul ring. He refused, saying the time had not yet come."

"The time has not yet come?"

Ning Fengzhi repeated those words, his tone amused.

A six-year-old child had refused the Crown Prince's goodwill in arranging a soul ring hunt, on the grounds that "the time had not yet come."

Coming from the mouth of a six-year-old, those words sounded strangely out of place no matter how one heard them.