What exactly is a soul?
It was a question as ancient as it was elusive. Even in Lin Xiao's previous life, countless people had tried to answer it, yet none had managed to grasp its true essence.
Here, in this world of spirit power and martial souls, he had a martial spirit born to perceive souls themselves—the Other Shore Flower—and still, he couldn't describe what a soul truly was.
Everyone knew they had one, that they could think, move, and feel. But where did that sense of self originate? What was it made of?
All he knew was that a soul carried one's memories and will. Yet today, he had seen something that defied all reason—souls could be made.
The Soul-Summoning Tree had drawn wandering souls to itself, fusing them into grotesque new forms. When that three-headed hound emerged, he had genuinely felt the aura of a hundred-thousand-year beast—faint but undeniably real.
The night in the Star Dou Forest was never truly quiet. Winds howled between the trees, carrying the faint roars and breaths of countless spirit beasts. Lin Xiao ignored it all, his mind deep within his spiritual sea.
Nightmare Douluo's purpose for gathering so many spirit beasts remained unclear, but one thing was certain: he did not plan for Lin Xiao to die easily. The time ahead was short; Lin Xiao had no luxury to search for safety—only to act when he could.
Beside him, Nightmare Douluo listened to his disciple's steady breathing. He sensed the flow of spiritual power but dismissed it. With a Titled Douluo standing guard, it was only natural for the boy to cultivate in peace.
As the night deepened, the four captured beast hunters began to doze. But just as they leaned against each other for warmth—
A shriek pierced the forest.
It was high and sharp, like the wailing cry of an infant. Lin Xiao's consciousness jolted violently from meditation. The four hunters went rigid, their legs trembling uncontrollably.
Nightmare Douluo stood up at once, eyes narrowing toward the darkness.
"A hundred-thousand-year beast?"
Even the air grew heavy at that sound. The caged spirit beasts nearby began thrashing, awakening in fear.
A hundred-thousand-year beast in the Star Dou Forest was no rarity, yet Nightmare Douluo's face darkened. Though he bore the title of Douluo, he was far from the strongest among them—and before such a creature, even he felt dread.
He glanced once at the sack of captured beasts and said coldly, "You head for the forest's edge. I'll try to lure it away."
Lin Xiao felt that oppressive aura as well. Though suspicion flickered in his chest, he kept silent and moved toward the outskirts.
"Still standing there?"
Nightmare Douluo's tone turned icy.
The hunters exchanged looks, then hoisted their sacks of beasts and hurried after Lin Xiao.
"Pity," Nightmare Douluo murmured, a faint, mocking smile twisting under his hood. Then his figure vanished into the dark.
Lin Xiao pressed forward at full speed. The lesser beasts of the outer forest roared and hissed at their passing, but none could truly threaten him.
"Brother! Wait for us!"
The burly hunter lumbered behind him, panting heavily, the large sack still slung across his back. Lin Xiao's path cleared most of the beasts, allowing him to barely keep up.
"Brother, do you know what kind of beast that was? Is your teacher strong enough to fight it?"
Lin Xiao glanced over his shoulder, eyes cold. He said nothing. If Nightmare Douluo truly faced a hundred-thousand-year beast head-on, Lin Xiao doubted he would survive. His Nightmare Martial Spirit could kill weaker minds effortlessly—but against equal power, its effectiveness was limited.
Would Nightmare Douluo die in the forest tonight?
The thought came unbidden. But Lin Xiao dismissed it at once. His teacher wasn't the type to fight to the death—he'd flee long before that.
When Lin Xiao didn't respond, the burly man pressed again. "That cry—it sounded like a child's wail, didn't it? I think it's a Ghost-Faced Owl! They're terrifying creatures!"
The name made Lin Xiao's eyes narrow. He recalled the four beasts Nightmare Douluo had captured—the Ghost-Faced Owl among them. A flash of realization struck him.
"Throw away the sack," he said abruptly.
"What?"
The burly man blinked, confused, but instinctively released it. The heavy bundle dropped to the ground with a dull thud.
They didn't stop running. Lin Xiao glanced back, his expression darkening.
Of course. Nightmare Douluo had never been one for self-sacrifice. If a hundred-thousand-year beast had appeared, he wouldn't stay behind to protect anyone.
The "bait" left behind to attract it… was them.
And that sack contained the four-thousand-year Ghost-Faced Owl—perhaps related to the hundred-thousand Ghost-Faced Owl's sudden rage. Whether or not the beast's arrival was coincidence, the connection was too close to ignore.
The burly man seemed to sense the truth as well. Breathing hard, he exhaled in relief and flexed his wrists, edging subtly closer to Lin Xiao.
"Say, brother," he began carefully, "earlier, you mentioned some kind of 'Holy Church.' What was that about?"
As he spoke, the other three hunters also closed in, step by step.
"That's not one of those evil sects, is it?" sneered the thin one—"Old Third," if Lin Xiao remembered right. "Your teacher doesn't seem to treat you too kindly."
He grinned, voice hardening. "Didn't think we'd get a chance to rid the world of scum today."
The last word had barely left his mouth when killing intent exploded.
A sharp, cutting force lunged straight for Lin Xiao's back. The four men struck in perfect coordination—one behind him, two flanking, one in front—each targeting a limb or a vital point.
Lin Xiao's voice came calmly, almost bored. "Your 'Fifth Brother'—the one who goes for the throat, right?"
Before they could react, his stride halted abruptly. His upper body twisted, left arm sweeping backward.
A gleam of cold silver flickered in his palm—the short dagger that had materialized from nowhere.
The attacker behind him froze mid-step, the blade sinking deep into his chest.
"You could've just admitted you wanted to rob and kill me," Lin Xiao said evenly. "Why pretend you're doing good for the world?"
His arm lifted. The man's body arced through the air in a half-circle before crashing to the ground in front of him.
In that instant, countless streaks of dark-red light burst from the corpse, scattering like petals in the wind—the radiance of souls torn free.
(End of Chapter)