The Martial Soul's Stirring
The knocking sounds from the mine tunnel came through the rock walls, muffled and dull.
Lu Yuan sat cross-legged on the floor of the quiet room, with a sheet of straw paper spread out in front of him. He held a charcoal pencil in his hand, but didn't move it.
He closed his eyes, Soul Power seeped out from his depleted meridians, Sisi, Simulation the fluctuations of the Soul Power storm in his memory. It was chaotic, high-frequency, and full of destructive power.
A faint, delicate phantom of the Blue Silver Grass appeared in his palm. When his Soul Power swept over it, the leaves trembled slightly.
wrong.
Lu Yuan stopped, his brows furrowed. He recalled the events in more detail—the "critical" state before the storm detonated, and the subtle fluctuations that followed when the Shadow Guards guided the turbulence.
He readjusted his Soul Power output. The intensity was reduced to the minimum, but the frequency became much more complex. Several different types of tremors were forcibly mixed together, conflicting with each other while maintaining a fragile balance.
Sweat dripped down my back. My veins ached.
The edge of the Blue Silver Grass in my palm suddenly lit up for a fleeting moment.
Immediately afterwards, a clear "pulsation" spread throughout his body through the connection of his Martial Soul.
Like someone who has been tied up for a long time, when the rope loosens a little, the muscles instinctively tense up and then relax.
Lu Yuan opened his eyes, his breathing rapid.
He stared intently at the now calmed Blue Silver Grass.
"The suppressed Origin..." The charcoal pencil finally fell, drawing messy lines on the scrap paper, "... loosening in a chaotic energy environment?"
Fragments from Bai Zhi's secret letter surfaced: "Lock," "Origin Limitation," and "Rules Flaw."
Theories about energy fields and life imprints from past lives are spinning and colliding wildly.
A bold hypothesis took shape.
When he pushed open the door to the quiet room, it was already dark outside. Mo Chen was squatting in the corner of the workshop, staring intently at the parts, Lin Xiao was leaning against the rock wall chewing dry rations, Shen Moxin was writing and drawing under the oil lamp.
"I have an idea," Lu Yuan said in a hoarse voice.
Several people looked over.
Lu Yuan sat down and first asked Shen Moxin, "In traditional theory, what is the essence of Martial Soul?"
Shen Moxin adjusted her glasses. "The manifestation of Soul Master's bloodline and soul, a bridge connecting the Soul Power of heaven and earth. The quality of the Martial Soul and the level of Innate Soul Power determine the 'width' and 'stability' of this bridge."
"What if," Lu Yuan said slowly, "This bridge had a height restriction from the very beginning?"
Shen Moxin was stunned.
"It's not that the bridge isn't wide enough; it's that the bridge itself has been covered and enclosed by walls." Lu Yuan raised his hand, and the illusory image of Blue Silver Grass appeared. "No matter how strong one's bloodline and soul are, they can only circulate within the walls and cannot reach the wider world outside."
Mo Chen put down the parts. "What does that mean?"
"It means that from the moment Martial Soul awakens, it is bound to some kind of ' Shackles '," Lu Yuan said in a deep voice. "These Shackles limit the energy levels it can communicate with. The Innate Soul Power level may just be an external manifestation of how tight these Shackles are."
The mine tunnel was so quiet that only the crackling of the burning oil lamp wick could be heard.
Lin Xiao licked his canine teeth. "Lock?"
"The 'lock' mentioned in Bai Zhi's intelligence." Lu Yuan nodded. "I guess it directly affects the Martial Soul Origin. An extremely chaotic Soul Power environment—such as Soul Power storm—may instantly Simulation the Shackles ' weakened state."
He paused. "That's why my Blue Silver Grass reacted strangely. It wasn't evolution; it was that the Shackles loosened slightly, and the suppressed Origin revealed a trace of its true nature."
Shen Moxin's breathing quickened, her finger tapping the temple of her glasses. "This explains so much... Top-tier Martial Soul families maintain stable lineages generation after generation, with virtually no disruptive mutations; Innate Soul Power level has become an ironclad rule..."
She suddenly looked at Lu Yuan. "Your theories! Your redefinition of the essence of Soul Power are all attempts to describe the form of that Shackles! Even your cultivation method might be searching for a way to bypass the restrictions of that Shackles!"
"It's just a possibility," Lu Yuan said calmly. "It still needs to be verified."
Mo Chen scratched his head. "How do we verify it? Create another Soul Power storm? We can't afford that."
"No." Lu Yuan shook his head. "Use more precise Soul Power manipulation to actively 'stimulate' the Martial Soul Origin. It's not about pursuing an increase in Soul Power, but about finding the feeling of 'loosening'."
He looked at his palm. "My Blue Silver Grass is Mutated Martial Soul. Mutation means instability, and it may be more sensitive to fluctuations in the Shackles."
In the following days, Lu Yuan went into a state of madness.
He stopped accumulating Soul Power in the usual way and devoted all his time to the precise control of Soul Power fluctuations. Shen Moxin was pulled along by him to deduce, and the scrap paper was filled with frequency curves. Mo Chen made several simple Soul Power fluctuation recorders.
The experiment was difficult.
Simulation a specific frequency range requires dividing Soul Power into several vibrations of different natures to maintain a fragile balance. This demands extraordinary perception and control precision.
Lu Yuan's Soul Power was reduced to only 20%, and his meridians were injured. Every attempt was like walking a tightrope. His Soul Power went out of control and backfired three times, the most serious time being when he coughed up blood for almost half a quarter of an hour.
He didn't stop.
Lin Xiao increased the perimeter of the perimeter. Mo Chen occasionally muttered "crazy" while repairing parts. Su Yan and Li Wangye quietly stood guard outside the quiet room after completing their training.
Evening of the seventh day.
Lu Yuan sat cross-legged in the center of the quiet room, his face pale and his clothes soaked with sweat. A walnut-sized structure of Soul Power floated on his right fingertip, with seven or eight kinds of faint light rotating, colliding and intertwining within it.
This is the "resonance model" he adjusted. Its intensity is less than one percent of the Soul Power storm, and its frequency is more precise—the target is not destruction, but a test.
He took a deep breath and directed the faint fluctuation to his palm.
A phantom image of Blue Silver Grass appeared.
The moment the Soul Power fluctuation touched the Martial Soul, Lu Yuan's muscles tensed. A strange "pulling sensation" spread throughout his body along the connection with the Martial Soul.
It wasn't pain, nor was it comfort.
It is an ancient and subtle resonance.
The illusory image of the Blue Silver Grass in the palm of his hand moved. The leaves, from their basic shape, began to slowly and autonomously unfold.
A nearly transparent new leaf bud peeks out from the side of the main stem. It is so delicate that it is almost invisible, with a faint silvery sheen along its edges.
It did not absorb any external Soul Power.
But the instant it appeared, Lu Yuan clearly felt that there was a faint connection between himself and his surroundings—the cold rocks, the damp air, and the sparse moss vitality in the crevices of the rocks.
He vaguely sensed a kind of energy that was different from Soul Power, more primitive, thinner, and more "fundamental".
Though as faint as a candle flickering in the wind, it certainly exists.
Lu Yuan's heart pounded like a drum.
This is not "evolution" in the traditional sense. The Soul Power Level has not increased, and the Martial Soul form has not undergone a major change.
It's more like bypassing a certain part of the "lock," secretly extending a tiny "tentacle" through the gaps in the Shackles, touching some kind of energy that is locked away deeper and more Origin.
What you call yourself doesn't matter.
The important thing is that a path may exist.
Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the quiet room. Lin Xiao appeared at the door, his amber vertical pupils particularly striking in the dim light.
"Lu Yuan," he spoke quickly, "The people from the Listening Wind Pavilion have reached the outer perimeter of Old Crow Ridge. Their movements are very rapid, as if they're searching for something—probably traces of Soul Power fluctuations leaked from the last attack."
He paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Something's not right with the Cloud Mist Sect either. The people they sent have gone missing, and instead of withdrawing these past few days, they've sent even more men to patrol the outskirts. They're even more agitated than before. They've lost men, and they're desperate."
Lu Yuan slowly clenched his fist, and the illusory image of the Blue Silver Grass and the newly sprouted leaf buds quietly retracted.
His face was expressionless, but the fire in his eyes burned even more intensely and brightly.
The darkness deep within the mine tunnels remained profound. But at this moment, the lingering touch in his palm, connecting him to the deeper world, illuminated the path ahead more clearly than any light.
Risks are never far away; the exploration has only just begun.
He stood up.
"Knew."