Night was black as ink, gently enveloping Nuoding Academy.
Inside Dorm Seven, faint snores rose and fell, interweaving as the daytime clamor fell utterly silent.
Ling Feng had not gone to sleep.
He sat cross-legged on his bed, his eyes lightly closed. The rank-twelve Soul Power within him flowed slowly like a stream along profound pathways, tempering his meridians and consolidating his newly attained realm.
That brief conversation on the back mountain had seemed casual, yet it had stirred deeper ripples in his heart.
Limit Absorption Theory...
The knowledge bestowed by the system was exquisite and ahead of its time, far beyond this era's understanding.
Grandmaster Yu Xiaogang was hailed as unrivaled in theory, but the foundations of his research still rested on the general data Spirit Hall released to the public.
What the system had given him, however, was a key that led straight to the essence, a means of prying the rules loose.
Four hundred and twenty-three years... He silently repeated the number, an almost imperceptible curve lifting the corner of his mouth.
For him, that restriction might as well not have existed.
Knock, knock, knock-
An extremely faint knocking, carrying a certain stubborn rhythm, broke the stillness of the night.
It came from the entrance to Dorm Seven, cautious, as though afraid of disturbing too many people.
Ling Feng raised his brows slightly, quietly reined in his Soul Power, and opened his eyes.
At this hour...
He already had a guess.
He rose, draped on his outer robe, walked soundlessly to the door, and pulled it open.
Sure enough, Yu Xiaogang stood outside in the moonlight.
His face looked somewhat pale beneath the cold, clear moonlight, his eyes sunken. Yet those eyes were astonishingly bright, threaded with bloodshot veins and burning with an almost obsessive flame.
He had clearly not slept all night, his entire being caught in a state of extreme excitement and exhaustion.
"Grandmaster?" Ling Feng let an appropriate hint of surprise enter his voice. "It's so late. What brings you..."
"Ling Feng." The Grandmaster interrupted him, his voice slightly hoarse, his burning gaze fixed on him. "I spent a long time thinking about what you said today."
He went straight to the point without any pleasantries, clearly consumed by that question.
"About... the maximum age limit?" Ling Feng stepped aside. "Would you like to come in?"
The Grandmaster shook his head, remaining at the doorway. He lowered his voice even further, as though afraid of waking something, yet also as though declaring something profoundly sacred. "I did more than think. I went through all my research notes and checked hundreds of cases in Spirit Hall's secret archives... although the overwhelming majority confirmed the limit of four hundred and twenty-three years, still!"
His tone suddenly grew excited, and he stepped half a pace forward. "Still, there really are a handful of vague records! They're ancient and lacking in detail, mentioning only that certain inheritors of ancient bloodlines, or people favored by deities, had First Soul Rings whose colors... differed from those of ordinary people!"
His breathing grew heavy. "I used to dismiss those records as legends or errors! But your words opened my eyes! Physical strength, mental resilience, Martial Soul quality... yes! It must be those factors! Those variables worked together to push that limit higher!"
The more he spoke, the more excited he became, nearly gesticulating wildly, completely immersed in his own world of reasoning.
Ling Feng watched him quietly without interrupting.
Though this Grandmaster was constrained by his own aptitude and his era, his dedication to theory and his keen insight were truly moving.
Suddenly, the Grandmaster stopped short, his gaze locking firmly onto Ling Feng once more, so fervent it almost seemed capable of melting him.
"Ling Feng!" His voice carried a slight tremor. "Tell me, why did these things occur to you? Was it your... your Martial Soul? Or your body... or..."
He did not finish the question, but his meaning was self-evident.
He suspected that Ling Feng was precisely that one-in-ten-thousand exception!
Ling Feng understood, but his face showed a little "difficulty" and "helplessness."
"Grandmaster, I just enjoy letting my thoughts wander." He skirted the heart of the matter. "I feel that many things shouldn't have only one answer."
That answer clearly could not satisfy the Grandmaster.
He drew a deep breath, as though making some resolution, his gaze utterly sincere and even faintly pleading. "Ling Feng, I know you have reservations. But this... 'wandering imagination' of yours is exactly what my lifelong pursuit of theory desperately needs! It might shatter the shackles and create an entirely new system!"
He raised the subject again, his tone more solemn and urgent than ever before. "Become my disciple! Officially! I'll teach you everything I know, holding nothing back! And together, we can explore those unknown fields! We can test those 'ideas' of yours together!"
He was practically swearing an oath. "As for the origins of your Martial Soul, I, Yu Xiaogang, stake my integrity on this: I will never pry, and I will never tell anyone! All your secrets will be safe with me! I only hope you'll accept my guidance, so that together we can..."
"Grandmaster." Ling Feng softly interrupted his impassioned speech.
His voice was calm, yet carried an unquestionable resolve.
The Grandmaster's words stopped abruptly, and he looked at him expectantly.
Ling Feng slowly shook his head, his tone carrying an appropriate measure of apology, but more of his own determination. "Thank you for thinking so highly of me. But my answer remains the same. I'm used to finding my own way. Please don't bring up taking me as your disciple again."
He had been rejected once more.
Most of the flame in the Grandmaster's eyes dimmed in an instant. Immense disappointment and exhaustion surfaced on his face, and his lips moved a few times, as though he wanted to persuade him further but did not know what to say.
Silence spread between them.
Moonlight spilled down, casting long shadows.
Only after a long while did the Grandmaster heave a lengthy sigh filled with boundless regret, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I... understand."
He looked at Ling Feng with a complicated gaze, filled with regret and unwillingness, but in the end, that thirst for knowledge overpowered everything else.
He settled for the next best thing, his voice dry. "Then... in the future, could we... discuss things with each other? Like we did today? If you have any new 'ideas,' you can come to me anytime. As for some of my research, if you're interested..."
At that moment, he was no longer a teacher trying to take a disciple, but more like a researcher yearning to exchange ideas with a peer.
He had adopted a very humble stance.
This time, Ling Feng did not refuse. He nodded. "Of course, Grandmaster. Your theories are vast and profound. I have things to learn as well."
Those words gave the Grandmaster a trace of comfort.
He gave Ling Feng a long, searching look, as though trying to see completely through this youth who had repeatedly rejected him and repeatedly left him shaken.
Finally, he nodded and turned away. His retreating figure looked somewhat desolate and lonely beneath the moonlight as he slowly faded into the night.
After a few steps, he suddenly stopped without turning back. His voice drifted over on the wind, carrying an indescribable weight of meaning:
"I hope that after you return from the Soul Hunting Forest... you'll have some... new ideas."
With those words, he lingered no longer and slowly walked away.
Ling Feng stood at the doorway, watching his figure disappear, his gaze sharpening slightly.
After the Soul Hunting Forest?
New ideas?
This master of theory seemed to have sensed something.
Or rather, he was looking forward to something.
Ling Feng closed the door, shutting out the moonlight and the chill of the deep night.
A curve slowly lifted the corner of his mouth.
New ideas?
There would certainly be some.