Feng Lingtian stood on the ground of the white space without moving. His previous two experiences had already allowed him to figure out the pattern here.
The first time was in childhood, when he was abandoned and picked up by his grandfather; the second time was in his youth, when he studied desperately to change his fate. He could probably guess what the third time would be—
It must be the period related to his grandfather. He doesn't know exactly when he will return to that time, but the thought of seeing his grandfather again makes him have no intention of backing down.
He waited for a while, but no new fluctuations appeared in the space ahead. He remained calm, knowing that what was meant to happen would eventually come.
Then, a scene unfolded directly in front of him—without prelude, without transition, like a door being opened.
It was a hospital room with white sheets and simple furnishings. The sky outside the window was gray. An old man lay on the bed, covered with a thin blanket, so thin that he was almost unrecognizable.
Feng Lingtian's body felt as if it were nailed to the ground. He recognized the ward and the bed—memories of the last period of his grandfather's life in his previous life.
Feng Lingtian still remembers that day. He sat by the bedside, holding the old man's hand, without saying a word. Most of the medical equipment by the bedside had been removed, leaving only the most basic monitoring equipment. The numbers on the screen jumped slowly and steadily.
Feng Lingtian didn't hesitate for long before taking a step towards the scene, pulling himself into it.
A few seconds later, Feng Lingtian was already sitting in the ward. His body felt heavy, and the smell around him was a mixture of disinfectant and old bed sheets.
He sat on a plastic chair by the bed, looking at the old man on the bed—his hair was completely white, his face was so thin that only the outline of bones remained, an IV was inserted into the back of his hand, and his skin was so thin that you could see the veins.
Feng Lingtian reached out and gently grasped the old man's hand, his fingertips tracing the calluses on the back of his hand, a result of years of hard work, and softly sighed, "Grandpa... it's been so long..."
The old man seemed startled by the movement; his eyelids twitched, and he slowly opened them. Seeing Feng Lingtian sitting by the bed, he paused for a moment, then gave a weak smile, " Little Tian, what brings you here? Aren't you busy with work?"
Feng Lingtian held his hand tightly, not letting go. "Grandpa... I missed you, so I came to see you."
The old man didn't say anything more, but the smile on his lips didn't fade. Feng Lingtian looked at his frail appearance and heard the familiar gentleness in his voice; something in his heart seemed to have been gently struck.
He looked down at the hand he was holding the old man's. The old man's hand was thin and light, completely different from the rough and strong hand that had held him when he was young.
Feng Lingtian felt very sad and heartbroken. No matter what, he wanted to do something. He didn't want to just sit there and watch.
Just then, a thought suddenly popped into his mind.
"You have Soul Power. Transfer your Soul Power to him, and Grandpa can live a few more years."
Feng Lingtian's hand twitched slightly. The thought was clear, natural, and came without abruptness, as if he had finally found the words to express something he had been pondering all along.
He could feel an extremely faint light gathering in his palm— his Soul Power was indeed still circulating, flowing quietly even in this timeline that did not belong to the Douluo Continent.
He didn't act immediately, but remained silent for a moment before speaking, "Grandpa, if I told you... I have a way to restore you, would you be willing?"
The old man looked at him and gave a weak smile, "Won't that hurt you?"
Feng Lingtian did not answer. He could not lie and say that he would be fine, nor could he say something like "it might be very dangerous" to make his grandfather make the decision for him.
His silence was an answer in itself. The old man looked at him for a while, then said, "Then forget it. Everyone dies eventually. I've lived long enough. Don't do anything to hurt yourself."
Feng Lingtian sat there, the light still hovering in his palm, neither dissipating nor advancing. He wanted to do something, but his grandfather's words stopped him—
It wasn't because he changed his mind, but because he suddenly realized that his thought had come too naturally. So naturally, as if it had been placed there by someone else.
He looked down at the light in his palm, remained silent for a long time, and then withdrew his hand. The light flickered once before disappearing completely, as if to confirm that he had truly given up.
"Okay," he said, "Then I won't do it. I was just joking, please don't take it seriously."
The old man didn't speak, his eyes closed, as if he were about to fall asleep. But he gently tightened his grip on Feng Lingtian's hand, very lightly, as if confirming something.
Feng Lingtian felt the strength of that hand. He knew that his grandfather understood—not just the joke, but the meaning behind it.
But Grandpa didn't press the matter or expose him; he simply responded with that hand.
Feng Lingtian didn't speak again, just sat there, letting that hand hold his for a while. The sky outside the window darkened a bit, the numbers on the monitor slowly fluctuated, and the old man's breathing was still very light, but it didn't become weaker.
The scene froze at that moment, not slowly fading away, but suddenly stopping. Feng Lingtian felt the pulling sensation on his body disappear, as if a pair of hands had withdrawn, leaving him standing alone in place. Then he realized that he was no longer in the ward, but standing on the ground of the white space again.
He looked down at his palm; the Soul Power had completely dissipated.
Then, he looked up at the blank area in front of him. A figure emerged from the depths of the white space, its outline gradually becoming clear—tall, with a blurred face but an undeniable presence.
The figure didn't approach; it simply stopped a few steps away, as if it had observed the entire scene before appearing.
"I am the Asura God King, in charge of the order of the Divine Realm, discerning right from wrong, and upholding the fairness of the rules." The voice was clearer and more real than before, as if the speaker were right in front of him.
"You have passed the three tests I set. The first time, you chose to wait—you did not hate, you did not seek revenge, and you did not interfere with the course of events just because you were abandoned."
The second time, you gave up the convenience of predicting the future and chose to fill the gap with your own labor—you didn't take shortcuts and left no debts.
The third time, you faced temptation and chose respect—you didn't use forces outside this world to forcibly keep someone who was ready to leave.
Three choices are enough to prove you are qualified to inherit my mantle. Now, are you willing to inherit my mantle?
Feng Lingtian did not answer immediately. He remained silent for a moment, then raised his head to look at the figure. " Asura God King, before I agree to your request, I have a few questions I would like to ask first."
The Asura King didn't urge him, "Alright, ask away."
Feng Lingtian stared at the blurry figure, paused for a moment as if gathering his thoughts, and then said, "You should know I'm not from this world, right?"
These words, falling into the white space, were neither a question nor a statement. The Asura King remained silent, as if waiting for him to finish speaking.
Feng Lingtian continued, "Also, regarding Tang San... I know about the arrangements between you and him. If I inherit your divine position, what will happen to him?"
"And—" Feng Lingtian paused, "My grandfather, is there anything I can do for him?"
After asking the three questions, Feng Lingtian said nothing more.
The Asura King did not answer immediately, but simply looked at him quietly, as if he were re-evaluating the person standing before him. Feng Lingtian stood still, waiting for an answer.
He neither urged him nor looked away. The white space remained quiet for a long time.