Two years passed in quiet power.
Tang San no longer sought strength through shortcuts. Each breath, each moment of stillness became part of a vast, deliberate puzzle he was assembling beneath the mountain that once held the bones of the Tang Clan. Under moonlight and firelight, spirit metal rang beneath his hammer as he forged the new roots of the future.
He had long since awakened the first stage of the Primordial Breathing Method—the ancient technique that allowed his body and soul to grow in harmony, absorbing the world's intent drop by drop. No one knew where the technique had come from, not even Tang San. Only that it was dangerous, and exclusive. A single flaw in its circulation pattern would rupture a soul master's foundation entirely. It was why he never passed it down, nor would he.
After two years of continuous refinement, his spiritual sea had deepened further. His talent, already once monstrous, had now grown beyond comprehension. Most cultivators would envy a 1% increase in talent each year. Tang San had pushed himself for two years for that exact reward—until one day, in the depths of the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well, a rare confluence of medicinal energy emerged.
It was an ancient heart-core flower, submerged in twin waters for thousands of years, half red as magma, half white as crystal. Swallowing it after days of refining, he felt a searing burn race through his core.
His talent jumped 10% in a single stroke.
He kept the change hidden, silent. To others, he was still the quiet figure rebuilding a fallen sect. But within him, the tides had shifted.
—
Most of his time was spent forging—both weapons and principles.
He created several new secret techniques for the Tang Clan, tailored to a new era:
Nine-in-One Ring Strike: A terrifying soul ability fusion, capable of combining the effects of all nine spirit rings into a single overwhelming burst. It required perfect timing, immense spiritual control, and physical durability few could survive.
Spirit Ring Dissolution Technique: Never spoken of aloud. It allowed Tang San to dismantle and destroy his own spirit rings—not arbitrarily, but after personally slaying a powerful spirit beast. He could then replace them with spirit rings above 300,000 years, creating a body of pure force. A self-reinvention of soul cultivation from the ground up.
Artificial Spirit Ring Array: Using a combination of soul formation matrices and spirit energy crystals, he crafted synthetic spirit rings capped at 100,000 years in age and 80% strength. These were not for him, but for orphans and outer sect members with no access to high-level spirit beasts. Even so, they came at a cost—requiring strong physique, mental stability, and could not evolve.
Some rejected the path.
Tang San did not mind.
The continent had already begun whispering his name again—not because he had declared war, but because his survival defied all logic. He had not ascended, had not vanished. Instead, he quietly rebuilt, and the fear that grew from the unknown was more powerful than any title.
Spirit Hall stirred first.
Qian Renxue's golden warships patrolled border skies more frequently. Bibi Dong dispatched shadows into the outer territories near the Tang Clan's mountain. But no one dared strike.
The legacy of a man who had refused godhood still lingered in every realm of power.
Tang San himself remained mostly indifferent to the movements of his old enemies. His friends—Dai Mubai, Oscar, Ma Hongjun, Ning Rongrong—visited often, but rarely did he engage them deeply. He offered help when needed, shared tea when time allowed, and gifted the occasional forging blueprint. But he no longer walked side by side with them.
They were allies of the past.
He was building something for the future.
—
Beyond the mountain, new geniuses began rising.
In the far north, a twin-souled child named Huo Zhilan awakened an ancestral flame spirit, rumored to be connected to the earliest volcanic gods. She forged her own sect in months and declared neutrality—yet watched Tang San's moves with sharp, analytical eyes.
In the west, from the fallen empire of the Star Luo, a brutal talent named Lu Sheng conquered five major sects in less than a year using brutal martial arts. He admired Tang San's legend, but vowed to surpass him before age thirty.
Even the Sun Moon Continent, now integrated uneasily with the Douluo core, began sending mechanical cultivators and soul engineers to observe the changes. What they found was a sect that spoke of clarity, patience, and will, not conquest. But beneath it all, something ancient was stirring.
In one rare moment, an envoy of the Spirit Hall arrived with an offer: a vast sum of materials, scrolls, and ten thousand-year spirit beasts in exchange for a glimpse at Tang San's forging process.
He refused.
"Some knowledge is not bought with materials," he said calmly, "but with blood and time."
The envoy returned empty-handed.
—
One night, Tang San stood alone before the lake, feeling the hum of spirit energy across the mountain.
All nine rings of his first soul had been replaced, each now over 300,000 years in age. The second soul, the Clear Sky Hammer, followed suit shortly after. The sheer force of his new foundation made ordinary enemies meaningless.
Even so, he remained at Level 98.
The path beyond was no longer linear.
He knew the truth now: Level 99 was Demigod, a mere shadow of the divine.
Level 100 was the First God Level, where most gods of the past had stopped.
Level 110 was Second God Level—a realm barely tread by a handful, including Qian Renxue.
Level 120 was Super God—a myth more than a truth, where fate and law blurred into silence.
To cross the threshold to Level 100, Tang San would need to craft his own godhood, not inherit one. He had the shards of insight, but not yet the key.
Years more. Perhaps decades.
He was patient.
The Tang Clan was no longer dead.
It was sleeping, deep beneath the earth like an old dragon.
And when it awoke, the entire continent would know:
Tang San had never died.
He had simple