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A deep and aged voice finally echoed through the palace gates, reaching the spacious plaza outside.
"Come in."
Everyone's expressions instantly turned solemn. The Titled Douluo, including Yuanshi Douluo, bowed deeply with cupped hands toward the hall.
"Greetings, Grand Elder!"
Though they could not see the figure within, they all respectfully saluted.
"Enter the hall."
"Yes…" The members of the Jiang family responded in unison.
Once inside, the descendants of the Jiang family bowed again.
The elder did not bid the Titled Douluo to rise. His expression calm, he slowly swept his gaze from the hall's left pillars to its right.
Having been in seclusion for three years, he now found that, aside from a select few, most of his descendants had shown little progress in their cultivation. His expression gradually dimmed with disappointment.
"You must all work harder."
"The glory of the family lies with me, but it also lies with you. I am old now. In the end, the future depends on you."
The Titled Douluo quickly responded, "Please don't worry, Grand Elder. We understand."
Jiang Yundong sighed and shook his head, his gaze finally settling on his eldest grandson, who stood to the left.
The elder, with his silver hair and youthful face, finally revealed a hint of a smile.
"Shuo'er, come here. Come to your grandfather."
"Let me have a look… Hmm? Your progress far exceeds that of your uncles."
The young boy obediently stepped forward and stood beside the elder's golden dragon throne.
"Very good, very good. You've cultivated the True Essence Technique to the third layer already. You're better than your father—at your age, he had only just reached perfection in the first layer."
The elder beamed with pleasure, stroking his beard with one hand while resting the other on his grandson's shoulder, murmuring praises.
Below, the other Titled Douluo wore expressions of envy. They too had brought their children and grandchildren along.
Yet none of them received this kind of treatment.
Forget getting near the dragon throne—none were even granted the honor of having the Grand Elder personally assess their potential.
The boys and girls of Jiang Shuo's age had similar looks of envy. But all they could do was tilt their young faces to watch the warm interaction between grandfather and grandson from afar; they dared not step forward.
"I heard that this year, among the younger generation, only Shuo'er possesses innate full soul power?" The elder's gaze shifted, his eyes regaining their sternness as he looked down at the crowd.
The Jiang family members—many of whom were decades or even a century old—lowered their heads, not daring to meet the elder's eyes.
At last, the Sect Master, Yuanshi Douluo, straightened his back and stepped forward. "Father, this year, the clan has one with innate full soul power, one with innate ninth-level soul power, and five with innate eighth-level soul power…"
The more the elder listened, the more his face fell.
"That's enough. No need to continue."
"All of you may leave. Have Shuo'er stay behind with me."
Naturally, no one dared to defy the command. They cupped their fists and exited Taiji Hall in an orderly fashion.
Chen Yuan looked reluctantly at her son beside the dragon throne.
Suddenly, a hand patted her shoulder. Looking up, she saw her husband.
"Don't worry. Everything is developing for the better," Jiang Yuanshi said gently, with a reassuring smile hidden from the others' view.
"Mhm…" Chen Yuan nodded and looked away.
She turned and walked out.
The envy on the faces of the Taixu Sect's Titled Douluo was almost palpable.
The status of being the eldest son's eldest son clearly had its privileges.
If even the elders felt this way, the younger generation felt it even more keenly. Though they didn't understand the intricacies of power plays, they understood one thing very clearly: Grandfather doted on their eldest cousin the most.
…
The wooden hall, once the doors were closed, should have been dim.
Yet Taiji Hall was the opposite—not only was it not dim, it was remarkably well-lit.
The Taixu Sect was a typical Soul Master sect, yet it didn't reject soul tools as the aristocrats of the three great empires did.
Even though the mighty descendants of the Taixu God looked down on soul engineers, their inventions were undeniably useful.
So, the sect simply turned a blind eye to the procurement of such items by their affiliated clans.
Even Taiji Hall was equipped with soul-powered lights.
Jiang Yundong placed both hands on his grandson's shoulders, smiling warmly. "Come, let Grandpa see your other dragon-shaped Martial Soul."
Jiang Shuo nodded, hopeful that his well-traveled grandfather, who had roamed the world for over three hundred years, might recognize his second Martial Soul.
The youth extended his tender left hand, fingers slightly curled. Before its form appeared, a sound rang out.
"ROAR!"
A high-pitched dragon's cry suddenly echoed through Taiji Hall.
At the sight of the Martial Soul in his grandson's left hand, Jiang Yundong's once-cloudy eyes instantly sharpened.
His grip on the boy's shoulders involuntarily tightened.
"Grandfather, you're crushing my shoulders…"
The boy's small face twisted in pain, forcing him to gently remind the elder.
"Ah… Did I hurt you, little Shuo? My fault, my fault."
The elder quickly let go and smiled kindly, his eyes narrowing.
In his heart, he already had an answer.
Relieved, the boy forgot the pain and quickly asked:
"Grandfather, do you recognize my second Martial Soul?"
He looked eagerly at the wise and experienced Taixu Douluo.
The elder didn't respond immediately, lowering his white-haired head in contemplation for a moment.
"I recognize parts of it, but not everything."
"According to the continent's ancient records, among elemental Martial Souls, there exists a degree of the thunder attribute referred to as 'Extreme.'"
"This level is exceedingly rare, appearing perhaps once in a century, or even a millennium. Even my Taixu Mystic Dragon Martial Soul, despite a lifetime of cultivation, never reached the level of Extreme Thunder."
"To think you, little one, were born standing at that peak… Truly, life is unpredictable."
Jiang Yundong sighed. What he had pursued in vain for over three hundred years had now appeared in his own grandson.
Should he feel bitter, or fortunate?
But in an instant, that bitterness melted into profound pride.
Jiang Shuo's heart began to pound. Damn! Extreme Thunder?! Isn't that the most destructive elemental power there is?
"Grandson, tell me, what is the name of your Martial Soul?"
Pulled from his reverie, the boy heard his grandfather's steady, powerful voice.
Collecting his thoughts, Jiang Shuo replied, "I call it the Ninefold Mystic Golden Dragon. The thunder that accompanies it, I call Ninefold Mystic Golden Thunder."
"Ninefold Mystic Golden Thunder… Not bad, not bad. Quite domineering."
"Hahaha! As expected of my grandson!"
Jiang Yundong shot to his feet, laughing heartily as he stroked his beard, his voice shaking the great hall.
After a moment, his gaze returned to the boy, his expression growing serious once more.
"Grandson, remember this: do not use this Golden Dragon Martial Soul for now. And do not let anyone know you possess it."
"Do you understand?"
Jiang Shuo nodded repeatedly. "I understand, Grandpa."
The Taixu Douluo looked both proud and wistful as a strange thought crossed his mind.
A god is born into the Taixu line once every thousand years. By my calculations, the time is about right… Could it be that it's not me, nor Yuanshi, but…
…
The two continued their quiet conversation in the great hall. Jiang Shuo took the opportunity to reveal his other Martial Soul as well, hoping his learned grandfather could analyze it.
The Taixu Douluo was stunned yet again.
His expression became incredibly complex.
He had thought that a Martial Soul with Extreme Thunder, at a Dragon King level, was already a monumental blessing for the Jiang family.
He never imagined there was another.
"Silver Shuo Spear… Silver Shuo Spear…"
"These dragon markings… they resemble… could it be… the Silver Dragon King?"
The more the Taixu Douluo thought, the more alarmed he became.
How could his grandson's body possibly withstand two such powerful Martial Souls?
The Jiang family was a clan that had produced gods—more than one, in fact.
At certain times, they could even communicate with the realm above.
And the last Jiang family member to ascend to godhood, perhaps due to his personality, had a penchant for passing down 'divine oracles'—which was really just his excuse to chat with his descendants.
…
After a long silence.
The elder looked down at his grandson again.
"Grandson, do you have any idea what this spear is used for?"
Jiang Shuo nodded blankly, then shook his head.
"Maybe… I have a slight feeling."
"The Silver Shuo Spear isn't as heavy or overbearing as the Ninefold Mystic Golden Dragon, but I can feel it absorbing my soul power. And not just that… it feels like it can also absorb the elemental attributes from my other Martial Soul."
…
Jiang Yundong's expression grew even more complex.
So, it's true.
The heavens truly favor the Jiang family.
"Alright, put it away."
Jiang Shuo obediently complied.
Gazing at his short grandson, the elder's eyes grew increasingly gentle and kind.
Perhaps his earlier affection was born from the duty of bloodline and succession.
But from this day forward, it was the hope and expectation a ruler placed upon his chosen successor.
"Go and rest. Tomorrow, your grandfather will personally take you to hunt a soul beast and obtain your first soul ring."
The boy's heart leaped with joy. Was he finally about to take the first real step on his journey in this life?
"Okay! Thank you, Grandfather!"
Jiang Yundong waved his hand. "Go on. Rest well. Don't worry about anything else; I'll speak with your father."
The boy nodded quickly, bowed deeply one last time, and slipped out of the great hall.
…
Watching his grandson's departing figure, the elder was filled with a mix of emotions.
There was relief that the family's glory would continue, and joy that his successor was so promising.
And finally, there was a tiny, fleeting trace of personal regret.
A god, once every thousand years…
Sitting quietly on the dragon throne, the elder chuckled softly and shook his head again.
A long dream must eventually end.
After three hundred years of struggle, perhaps it is finally time for release.
(End of Chapter)