Collision

Eastsea City's streets were more crowded than she had imagined.

Yun Zhiyu walked along the stone-paved road. Shops lined both sides, the hum of Soul Tools and the cries of vendors weaving into a clamor. She lowered her head, sinking her spiritual power into the system panel to examine her current status.

[Host: Yun Zhiyu]

[Age: 10]

[Martial Soul: Xuanyuan Sword (Divine-grade Tool Martial Soul)]

[Soul Power: Level 31 (Three-Ring Soul Elder, solidity: extremely high)]

[Soul Spirit Simulation Status: Thunder Marsh Yinglong (ten-thousand-year) → Thousand-Year Lightning Python, Northern Nether Black Tortoise (hundred-thousand-year) → Blackwater Turtle (thousand-year)]

[Torch Dragon Bloodline: 35% unsealed]

[Torch Dragon Bloodline Soul Skills:]

[First Soul Skill · Torch Dragon Breath: Nether Shadow: Exhales a faint breath of the Torch Dragon, carrying netherworld chill. Slows enemies, disrupts Soul Power circulation, gentle battlefield control.]

[Second Soul Skill · Dragon Scale Ward: Dark Veil: Dark-gold dragon scales emerge around the body, forming a defensive barrier while slightly distorting light and concealing one's presence.]

[Third Soul Skill · Dusk Dragon Flash: Instant Step: The power of the Torch Dragon enhances speed, allowing short-range spatial flashes. Graceful and silent, used for evasion and surprise attacks.]

[Spiritual Power: 510 points (Spirit Sea Realm)]

[Forging Master Rank: Level 5 (Peak Spirit Forging, beginner Fusion Forging)]

Yun Zhiyu's gaze lingered on "Torch Dragon Bloodline: 35% unsealed" for a moment. It meant that the sleeping power within her was gradually awakening. Nether Shadow, Dark Veil, Instant Step—the three soul skills all corresponded to the Torch Dragon's nature: opening its eyes brought day, closing them brought night. Control, defense, evasion—none were directly offensive, yet they aligned with the Torch Dragon's origin of commanding time and space.

Still far from enough, she murmured inwardly. Once it is completely unsealed, perhaps I can touch time...

She did not notice the road ahead.

Bang—

Her forehead struck a hard chest. Yun Zhiyu staggered back as her spiritual power was abruptly pulled away from the system panel. She instinctively activated Dusk Dragon Flash: Instant Step. Her figure swayed slightly, then she steadied herself an inch before falling, like a fallen leaf held aloft by the wind.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

The voice opposite her was hurried and sincere, carrying the clear brightness unique to a boy. Yun Zhiyu looked up and saw a boy of eight or nine bowing repeatedly. His black hair held a faint golden sheen beneath the sun, his skin was healthily wheat-colored, but his eyes were an unusual deep blue, as though the ocean and sky had both been gathered within them. They were as clear as a pool of water.

Tang Wulin.

Her heart jolted. The protagonist of the original story, son of the God King Tang San, bearer of the Golden Dragon King Bloodline, stood before her now, apologizing over and over like a child who had made a mistake.

"It was me who wasn't watching where I was going," she said with a smile. "I should be the one apologizing."

Tang Wulin paused, then straightened up. Embarrassment showed in his deep-blue eyes. He wore a gray work uniform washed nearly white, its cuffs frayed. His cloth shoes were stained with mud; he had clearly rushed over from some construction site or forging room. Yet even so, he stood as straight as a pine, carrying a steadiness unfitting for his age.

"No, it wasn't," he said, waving his hands, his voice stumbling slightly. "I was in a hurry and didn't watch where I was going... Are you, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Yun Zhiyu shook her head with a smile and reached out to brush the dust from his shoulder—the metal fragments left behind from forging. "You're a forging master?"

Tang Wulin's eyes lit up, as if someone had flipped a switch. "Yes, I know a little!"

After saying that, he lowered his head somewhat sheepishly, the tips of his ears reddening. "But... I can only barely manage Thousandfold Forging. I'm still far from good..."

"Thousandfold Forging at nine," Yun Zhiyu said sincerely. "That's already amazing. When my master was nine, he was still smashing iron blocks and playing in mud."

Tang Wulin lifted his head, surprise and delight in his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." Yun Zhiyu nodded. "My name is Yun Zhiyu. I'm heading to Eastsea Academy to register too. Shall we go together?"

"Y-Yes!" Tang Wulin nodded quickly, then hesitated. "But... my Martial Soul is Bluesilver Grass. My Innate Soul Power was only level three, and I'm only level thirteen now... The people at the academy might..."

He could not finish. A trace of dimness flashed through his deep-blue eyes.

Yun Zhiyu knew what he meant. Bluesilver Grass was publicly recognized as a useless Martial Soul. Compared to top-tier Martial Souls like the Titan Giant Ape or the Sky-Pillaring Spear, it was like a firefly beside the moon. In the original story, Tang Wulin had endured countless sneers and slights because of this Martial Soul. Only when his Golden Dragon King Bloodline gradually awakened did he break through skill with strength and carve out his own path.

"What's wrong with Bluesilver Grass?" she asked softly. Her voice was not loud, yet it cleanly cut through the street's clamor.

Tang Wulin froze.

"Twenty thousand years ago," Yun Zhiyu said as she walked forward at an unhurried pace, her ink-black hair drifting softly in Eastsea City's sea breeze.

"The leader of the first generation of Shrek Seven Monsters, Tang San, also possessed Bluesilver Grass as his Martial Soul."

She turned her head. Her black eyes—violet eyes concealed beneath contact lenses—met Tang Wulin's directly. "He became a god. Not an ordinary god, but the Sea God, the Asura God, an enforcer of the God Realm. His Bluesilver Grass evolved into the Bluesilver Emperor on his path to godhood, looking down upon all living things."

Tang Wulin stopped walking. A flicker of shock passed through his deep-blue eyes.

"So," Yun Zhiyu continued walking, her voice carried by the wind, "Martial Souls have no inherent strength or weakness, only whether they suit their wielder. Bluesilver Grass is a useless Martial Soul? That is merely the world's ignorance. Its toughness, vitality, and adaptability are qualities most Martial Souls do not possess. It can bind, it can control, it can grow in any environment—this isn't useless. This is..."

She turned around and looked at the boy standing there blankly. A faint curve touched her lips. "Infinite possibility."

Tang Wulin stared at her. Sunlight spilled through gaps between the buildings, gilding her outline with a pale gold glow. Her ink-black hair fluttered in the wind. Beneath her oversized gray cloak, slender wrist bones showed, and a ring on her finger shimmered with profound light. She looked like an ordinary girl, even half a head shorter than him, yet within those black eyes lay a nearly warm certainty that made his heart skip a beat.

"...Sister Yun," he unconsciously changed how he addressed her, his voice trembling faintly. "Do you really think so?"

"I don't think so." Yun Zhiyu shook her head. "I know. In your hands, Bluesilver Grass will evolve, will grow, and will become something everyone looks up to. Because you..."

She paused and did not continue. She could not say, "Because you are the son of a God King." She could not say, "Because the Golden Dragon King Bloodline sleeps within you." She could not say, "Because you are the protagonist of this world."

"Because you refuse to yield," she finally said, her voice soft yet unwavering. "That is enough."

Tang Wulin's eyes grew slightly hot. He thought of all those days and nights spent forging, of the pitying and mocking looks, of the faint, nearly invisible glow of Bluesilver Grass every time he tested his Soul Power. He had thought he was used to it, that he had long since gone numb. Yet now, this girl he had met only once had pulled him out of some cold corner with just a few words.

"...Thank you," he said quietly, hurrying to catch up with her. "Sister Yun."

Eastsea Academy's gates were plainer than she had imagined.

There was none of Shrek Academy's ancient solemnity, none of Sea God's Pavilion's mysterious majesty. It was merely an ordinary stone archway, engraved with the six words "East Sea Soul Master Academy." The writing was neat, but lacked spirit. Many new students and parents had gathered both inside and outside the gates, some excited, some nervous, as noisy as a boiling pot.

Yun Zhiyu and Tang Wulin walked through the gates side by side, only to be stopped in the middle of the square.

"Well, well, isn't this our 'useless Bluesilver Grass'?" a shrill voice called from the side.

Tang Wulin's body stiffened. Yun Zhiyu turned and saw three boys around ten years old approaching. The tall one in the lead wore an elegant silk school uniform. A silver badge—a symbol of some family—was pinned to his chest. His eyes settled on Tang Wulin with undisguised contempt.

"Bluesilver Grass." The tall boy sneered. "Innate level-three Soul Power, level thirteen now. Does trash like you deserve to enter Eastsea Academy? Go home and grow flowers. Isn't Bluesilver Grass best suited for farming?"

His companions burst into laughter. One of them deliberately rammed Tang Wulin's shoulder, knocking him half a step back.

"I heard you study forging at the East Sea City Blacksmiths Association?" the tall boy went on mockingly. "Thousandfold Forging? You probably swung a few thousand hammers and got lucky once. A real genius—someone with a useless Martial Soul like yours will spend their whole life—"

He did not get to finish.

Yun Zhiyu stepped forward and stood in front of Tang Wulin. She only came up to the tall boy's chest, her oversized gray cloak snapping in the sea wind. She looked like a little girl who did not know her own limits. Yet the moment she raised her eyes, the tall boy instinctively took half a step back. Something ancient and majestic flashed through those black eyes, like a sleeping beast opening its eyes.

"Apologize," she said. Her voice was not loud, but it sharply cut off every laugh.

The tall boy froze before anger from humiliation flooded his face. "Who are you? How dare you interfere with this young master's business? Do you know who I am? I'm—"

"Who you are isn't important." Yun Zhiyu cut him off and took another half-step forward. "What matters is that you insulted my..."

She paused, glancing sideways at Tang Wulin. A faint smile curved her lips. "Friend."

Tang Wulin shuddered. Something warm surged through his deep-blue eyes. Friend—this word was far too unfamiliar, far too precious to him. At the East Sea City Blacksmiths Association, he was "that Bluesilver Grass kid." During academy preparatory testing, he was "that kid with the useless Martial Soul." No one had ever called him a friend in front of everyone.

"Friend?" The tall boy seemed to have heard a joke. "A useless Bluesilver Grass like him deserves to—"

He did not get to finish.

Yun Zhiyu released a thread of Soul Power. Only a thread. The pressure of a Three-Ring Soul Elder was suppressed to its lowest level, yet it bore the authority unique to the Torch Dragon Bloodline, an authority over time and space. The tall boy's breath caught, as if an invisible force had seized his throat. His legs weakened beyond his control, his knees bending as he nearly collapsed to the ground.

"I'll say it again," Yun Zhiyu said, her voice carrying an icy gentleness. "Apologize."

The tall boy's face went pale, fine beads of sweat appearing at his temples. Within that pressure, he sensed something that made his soul tremble—it was not ordinary Soul Power, but an existence more ancient and more majestic, like a fragment of a god left behind in the mortal world.

"S-Sorry..." he forced out, his voice shaking.

Yun Zhiyu withdrew her power. The pressure receded like a tide. The tall boy staggered back and was supported by his companions as they fled miserably into the crowd. Whispers rose all around them. Surprised and awed gazes fell on Yun Zhiyu, but she paid them no mind as she turned toward Tang Wulin.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice returning to its previous softness.

Tang Wulin stared at her blankly. Sunlight streamed through a break in the clouds, coating her outline in pale gold. Her ink-black hair fluttered in the breeze, and his reflection lay in her black eyes, filled with a nearly warm certainty that made his heart race.

"Sister Yun..." he said, his voice hoarse. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why did you help me?" Tang Wulin's voice held a nearly imperceptible tremble. "We just met... You don't know who I am, don't know my Martial Soul, don't know that I..."

"I do." Yun Zhiyu interrupted him, gentle but firm. "I know you are Tang Wulin. I know you achieved Thousandfold Forging at nine. I know you have Bluesilver Grass as your Martial Soul, that your Innate Soul Power was level three, and that you are level thirteen now. I know you work at the East Sea City Blacksmiths Association. I know people laugh at you. I know you..."

She paused, reaching out to straighten the wrinkled collar that had been tugged out of place. Her movements were as practiced as if she were caring for a younger brother. "I know you deserve to be treated kindly."

Tang Wulin's eyes finally reddened. He lowered his head, unwilling to let Yun Zhiyu see him lose composure. Something warm surged in his deep-blue eyes, nearly spilling over.

"...Thank you," he said quietly, his voice broken with a sob. "Sister Yun, thank you."

Yun Zhiyu smiled and ruffled his black hair. "Come on. Let's register. If we're late, the teachers will scold us."

She turned and headed toward the teaching building, her cloak drifting in the sea breeze like a fish swimming into the deep ocean. Tang Wulin hurried after her. In his blue-gold eyes, that gray figure was reflected like a light not yet born, but already beginning to sprout.

In the registration office corridor, Yun Zhiyu stopped.

Her spiritual power quietly spread out, brushing against presences around a corner—two figures, one familiar and one unfamiliar. The familiar one carried the distinctive chill of the Silver Dragon Bloodline, while the unfamiliar one possessed a proud, unruly confidence.

Gu Yue, she murmured inwardly. And... Xie Xie?

The plot of the original story was unfolding. The primary personality of the Silver Dragon King, the agility-attack genius with Twin Martial Souls, and Xu Xiaoyan, who had not yet appeared—the wielder of the Star Staff Legacy. She was about to meet them, know them, fight beside them, and eventually change the endings that had kept her awake night after night.

"Sister Yun?" Tang Wulin called from behind her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Yun Zhiyu withdrew her spiritual power, a faint smile touching her lips. "I was just thinking that the days ahead will be very interesting."

She continued forward, her ink-black hair drifting gently in Eastsea City's sea breeze. The Tang Sect Bracelet on her wrist glimmered faintly, Zhen Hua's Star Ring flowed with profound light on her finger, and Na'er's Silver Dragon Hairpin rested against her skin, sending waves of warmth through her.

Ahead lay a new story, new challenges, and new bonds.