Qian Renxue's Tragic Childhood, Ning Lin Steps In

Qian Renxue immediately set down the book in her hands, slid off her chair, and bowed respectfully.

"Father."

The man who walked in was none other than the previous Supreme Pontiff, Qian Xunji.

In this altered history, Ning Lin's appearance had changed Bibi Dong's fate, and she had never become entangled with Qian Xunji.

Thus, Qian Xunji had not died.

Nor was Qian Renxue his child with Bibi Dong. She had been born to him and another exceptionally gifted female Soul Master, and was Spirit Hall's rightful Saintess, the focus of countless eyes.

"Still reading?"

Qian Xunji walked over to his daughter, a trace of satisfaction in his eyes, along with a sternness that was difficult to detect.

"Have you memorized all of volume three of Soul Power Essentials?"

"Yes, Father. I've memorized it all." Qian Renxue's voice was clear, but carried little emotion.

"Very good."

Qian Xunji nodded.

"But remember, theory is only theory in the end. Our angelic lineage inherits the power of a god. We must never slacken, not even for a moment."

"For next month's soul power test, I require you to reach rank twenty. Can you do it?"

Qian Renxue's tiny body trembled slightly, but she still nodded firmly.

"Xue'er... can do it."

"Good."

Qian Xunji reached out to stroke his daughter's head, but withdrew his hand halfway, merely patting her shoulder instead.

"Go. Double the time you spend on meditation training today."

"Yes, Father."

Qian Renxue turned and walked toward the training room on the other side with small steps, her little retreating figure looking rather lonely.

Her childhood had no playmates, no storybooks, and no sweets.

All she had was endless training and the pressure of never meeting her father's highest expectations.

Her world was golden, yet it was also blank.

At the same time, in a dilapidated village outside Spirit City.

A little boy in ragged clothes sat on a rock, gazing up at Spirit City's spires as they pierced the clouds.

The boy was around five or six, with black hair and black eyes. His body was filthy, yet his face was unusually clean.

His gaze was far too calm for a child, and this unfamiliar world was reflected in his deep eyes.

Ning Lin.

After his rebirth from the ashes, he had appeared in this village in the body of a child, becoming an orphan with neither name nor surname.

He had not rushed to act. He simply observed in silence, adjusting to this new identity and to the world whose very origins he had changed.

"Hey, look. That idiot's spacing out over there again."

Several older children, also orphans, walked over. The one leading them wore a malicious grin.

"He's got to be hiding food again. Search him!"

They swarmed him.

Ning Lin did not resist.

His scrawny body was soon pinned to the ground. After searching him, they found only half a loaf of hard, dry black bread.

"Tch. That's all?"

The child leading them snatched the bread and took a vicious bite. Finding it unappetizing, he threw it straight onto the ground and ground it beneath his foot.

"Remember this! On our turf, you hand over all your food to us from now on!"

With that, they swaggered away.

Ning Lin got up and brushed the dust off his clothes, his face still expressionless.

He merely bent down, picked up the half loaf that had been trampled beyond recognition, carefully blew the dirt off it, and began eating it earnestly, one small bite at a time.

Just then, a squad of knights wearing Spirit Hall's standard armor rode past nearby.

"Captain, look at that child."

One knight pointed at Ning Lin.

The captain at their head reined in his horse and looked over.

The child had neither cried nor made a fuss under the older children's bullying. Even after his food had been snatched away, he had simply picked it up in silence and eaten it. That composure, so at odds with his age, struck the captain as unusual.

"What is his innate aptitude like?" the captain asked.

A knight beside him who seemed skilled at assessing such things examined the boy closely, then shook his head.

"Captain, his aptitude is mediocre. You could even call it... very poor."

At those words, the captain had already lost interest.

Yet, for some reason, when his gaze met the child's eyes again, something stirred faintly in his heart.

What kind of eyes were those?

As still as an ancient well, as though they had seen through the ways of the world.

"Oh, well."

The captain spoke as if prompted by some unseen force.

"Spirit Hall takes in orphans every year. One more won't make a difference."

"Bring him along."

And so, Ning Lin was brought into the magnificent Spirit City.

His life was about to intersect with another lonely thread of fate.

Several months later.

Spirit Hall, Junior Soul Master Training Institute.

The children housed here were either adopted by Spirit Hall, like Ning Lin, or gifted commoner children recruited from various regions.

They would receive the most basic training here, after which their talents and performance would determine their futures.

They would either become honored Soul Masters or be eliminated and assigned menial work.

"Useless!"

A burly instructor kicked Ning Lin to the ground.

"Soul power affinity, C-minus! Physical fitness, C-minus! Spiritual power, C-minus!"

"In all my years of teaching, I've never seen a prospect as pathetic as you!"

"Spirit Hall's resources aren't meant to be wasted on the likes of you!"

The instructor's voice echoed across the training grounds, drawing waves of snickers from the other children nearby.

Ning Lin got up, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and said nothing.

His talent really was poor.

This body's natural aptitude was even weaker than that of an ordinary person.

Had he not possessed an adult's soul and willpower, he would probably have been eliminated by this hellish training long ago.

"No food for you today. Go wash everyone's clothes!" The instructor waved him away in disgust.

"Yes."

Ning Lin answered and silently walked toward the laundry room.

He had long since grown accustomed to such abuse and injustice.

To him, this was merely lying low.

As long as he could stay, he would have plenty of time and ways to change all of this.

Outside the laundry room was a small garden that few people usually visited.

Holding a great pile of dirty clothes, Ning Lin was about to go inside when he heard faint, stifled sobs coming from deep within the garden.

He paused, then walked over out of curiosity.

Behind a cluster of blooming golden roses, a little girl with golden hair was hugging her knees and crying softly.

It was her.

Qian Renxue.

Ning Lin recognized her at once.

During his time here, he had often caught distant glimpses of this Saintess, surrounded by admirers like the moon cradled by the stars.

She stood far above everyone, untouched by the smoke and dust of mortal life.

Yet now, she looked like an abandoned kitten, helpless and hurt.

Ning Lin did not approach her right away.

He simply stood quietly a short distance away, watching her.

Qian Renxue seemed to have exhausted herself crying. She stopped with a few lingering sniffles, took a thick book from inside her clothes, and flipped through it haphazardly, still muttering under her breath.