The years hurried past, until who knew what year or day it was, at the Papal Palace in Spirit City.
At that moment, a blond little boy of about five or six, his eyes brimming with arrogance, was drenched in sweat as he practiced a fist technique unknown to this world on the training grounds two thousand meters directly in front of the Papal Palace.
The powerful, surging wind from his punches sliced through the air ahead like sharp swords, its whooshing echoing across the training grounds. He soon completed the routine, but without pausing, the little boy returned to its opening stance and began practicing from the start again.
Again and again, the little boy repeated the routine no fewer than ten times in short order. His delicate little face was flushed crimson with exertion, and traces of anger flickered in his azure eyes.
"Huff... huff..."
Panting deeply, the little boy reached his twentieth repetition. Only then did he laboriously undo the weights strapped to his limbs. They stirred up clouds of dust as they struck the ground, clearly far from light. This was the amount of training he had been required to complete every day since he was three.
At the rear of the training grounds stood an old man and a young man. The younger one looked about eighteen or nineteen and wore fitted black training clothes. He had a well-proportioned build and refined features, with his long black hair tied halfway up with a hemp cord, fluttering in the wind. He cut a handsome, upright figure, with an extraordinary martial bearing.
Beside the young man stood an elderly man with white hair and beard, dressed in golden robes. He stood with his hands behind his back, looking kind and benevolent, yet keen light flashed whenever his eyes opened or closed. He was certainly no ordinary old man.
Watching the little boy remove his weights, the old man nodded involuntarily, then cautiously asked the young man beside him, "Great-great-grandfather-my grandfather's grandfather-Ji'er's Black Tiger Fist should be fairly decent now, shouldn't it?"
It was an utterly incredible sight: an old man who looked nearly a hundred addressing a young man as his great-great-grandfather. Yet it was happening right there.
The young man curled his lip and glared at the boy the old man called Ji'er, frustrated that iron had failed to become steel. "Decent, my ass! He's practiced for three years and only barely managed to tie it all together, let alone develop Black Tiger Fist Intent."
Those words left the old man dumbfounded. He could hardly resist retorting: was fist intent something anyone could develop so casually?
If fist intent were that easy to develop, wouldn't the Piercing Spear Force that had made the Breaking Clan famous, and the Chen Clan's Seven Kill Sword Intent, belonging to the Seven Kill Sword hailed as the continent's foremost offensive martial soul, all become common roadside goods?
The old man grumbled inwardly, but dared not say more. An official one rank higher could crush a man beneath him; a gap in seniority like this was even more formidable.
"And Little Liu, just how are you doing your job as pope? That so-called number one sect on the continent, the Clear Sky Sect, has been making such a racket lately, and you haven't done a thing?"
"Or do you want these old bones of mine to put their lingering warmth to use? Shall I help you knock their arrogance down another notch?"
The old man, Qian Daoliu, shuddered at those words. Their Old Ancestor, Qian Chongling, was somewhere over fourteen hundred years old. Though he looked young, he might spiral straight up to heaven the very next second.
If their forefathers learned that their Old Ancestor, Qian Chongling, had dragged his old bones out to establish Spirit Hall's prestige, dying of old age along the way would be bad enough. If he dropped dead halfway through a fight, how could Qian Daoliu ever face their ancestors in heaven?
Qian Daoliu hurriedly said, "Just leave all the fighting and killing to us youngsters. Old Ancestor, you should eat when you want, drink when you want, and enjoy yourself however you please."
Qian Chongling shrugged indifferently and drawled, "Ah, the Qian Family really does get worse with every generation. Back in my day, your great-great-grandfather here beat those so-called Upper Three Sects single-handedly until they didn't dare let out so much as a fart."
Qian Daoliu listened with a face full of exasperation as Old Ancestor Qian Chongling reminisced about his past. He wanted to interrupt but lacked the courage, so he could only listen silently.
After quite some time, Qian Chongling finally finished reminiscing. "Little Liu, if you think Little Ji's training is good enough at this level, then fine."
"When he's level ninety-five and gets thrashed by some brat who's only just become a Titled Douluo, it'll be too late."
"You must be joking again, Great-great-grandfather. With our Qian Family's Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul, how could a level ninety-five Super Douluo possibly lose to someone who's only just entered that realm?" Qian Daoliu asked helplessly.
"Go ahead and spoil him. You'll find out when the time comes." With that, Qian Chongling walked slowly out of the training grounds without waiting for Qian Daoliu or his son to respond.
Qian Daoliu curled his lip and thought, I had my son so late in life. How could I not spoil him?
Seeing that Qian Chongling had gone some distance away, the panting Qian Xunji asked his father, Qian Daoliu, with lingering fear, "Dad, is he really our Qian Family's Old Ancestor?"
Qian Daoliu froze, then swung a heavy slap straight at him, leaving Qian Xunji utterly bewildered. "Your father, your grandfather, and your grandfather's father all grew up under the Old Ancestor's watch. How could it possibly be fake?"
"Even if you doubt you're my biological son, you must never doubt the Old Ancestor!"
At that point, Qian Daoliu suddenly swung another slap at him.
I have to say, that feels pretty good. No wonder the Old Ancestor likes moving his descendants with the iron fist of love! I should try it more often myself, Qian Daoliu thought.
Qian Xunji: You two old geezers, where are your manners?
As for why Qian Xunji thought that, it was because Qian Chongling had given him a minor beating every three days and a major one every five ever since he was little, until he began questioning his very existence.
And why did Qian Chongling beat Qian Xunji? He was the Secret Chamber Douluo! If not him, who else should he beat?
Now that I'm your Old Ancestor, I can beat you whenever I want. When I'm happy, I'll beat you to celebrate; when I'm upset, I'll beat you to vent. And every beating is perfectly justified—you have no choice but to accept it!
Thus, Qian Chongling delighted in it.
"Oh, by the way, after so much stillness lately, I've felt the urge to move. I'm planning to travel the continent. If I die of old age, I'll entrust someone with bringing my ashes back."
Those words drifted over from afar, interrupting the father and son's thoughts. Qian Daoliu, in particular, could not help bursting into tears.
As a level ninety-nine Peerless Douluo, he naturally knew that upon reaching a certain realm, one could roughly sense when the end of one's lifespan was approaching.
In Qian Daoliu's eyes, Qian Chongling, who had lived for over fourteen hundred years, was someone without precedent or successor. Thus, Qian Daoliu was not surprised; he had already prepared himself inwardly.
Qian Chongling had seen off Qian Daoliu's father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. Now, at last, it was Qian Daoliu's turn to see Qian Chongling off.
Qian Daoliu drew a deep breath. "We respectfully bid you farewell, Old Ancestor!"
Qian Xunji's eyes focused as he came back to his senses, and he echoed, "We respectfully bid you farewell, Old Ancestor!"
Qian Chongling: What the hell? Are you two little brats cursing me? It's not decided who'll be seeing whom off yet. Just you wait!
Once Qian Chongling had gone far away, Qian Xunji waved a hand, signaling a maid to bring him a towel. He wiped the hot sweat from his body and tidied himself up a little in the mirror she held. Only then did he leave the Martial Arts Arena with Qian Daoliu.
For today was Qian Xunji's sixth birthday, and also the day he would awaken his martial soul!
Before you continue