The heavenly curtain replayed Yu Yuanzhen's pale figure standing outside his son's door, and the training ground at Shrek Academy watched with sharpened eyes. Ning Rongrong, Oscar, Dai Mubai, and the others regarded Yu Xiaogang with undisguised contempt. A malignant mutation and half a rank of Innate Spirit Power were common misfortunes on the Douluo Continent—but to behave as Yu Xiaogang had, to tell his own father to "get lost" after being offered cultivation resources, that was a different kind of disgrace.
Tang San frowned, uncomfortable. He forced himself to excuse the boy's behavior: the trauma of the Awakening could make anyone act irrationally. Others were less charitable. Zhao Wuji and his companions muttered about wasted resources and spoiled privilege; Flender bristled but could do little to silence them. Even those who did not know Yu Xiaogang well felt the sting of the spectacle—the sect's face had been lost, and the boy's performance had deepened the wound.
At the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School, Ning Fengzhi and the senior Douluos exchanged looks of pity and calculation. Gu Rong's laugh was cold; Chen Xin's interest was practical—if a Dragon God bore the same name, what had that other world done differently? The broadcast had become more than a replay of humiliation; it was a lesson in how fragile prestige could be.
The video continued. Inside the closed room, Yu Xiaogang raged and refused comfort. Yu Yuanzhen, after a long, strained silence, had chosen to invest his own cultivation reserves in his son. He argued that the spirit's unusual, externally manifested form and the initial Dragon Roar hinted at hidden potential; with resources and careful guidance, the boy might yet grow. The elders objected—resources were finite, and many youths deserved them more—but the Sect Master's decision stood. He would cultivate his son himself.
For six months Yu Xiaogang shut himself away, refusing food and company until hunger forced him out. When he finally emerged, heavier and hollow-eyed, he declared his willingness to cultivate. He trained in the Mimicry Cultivation Field his father had prepared, endured the whispered contempt of clansmen, and consumed the privileges Yu Yuanzhen could provide: rare books, restricted techniques, and stacked resources meant for a Titled Douluo's heir.
Progress was slow but steady. From a meager half rank of Innate Spirit Power, Yu Xiaogang climbed—step by grinding step—until, at fifteen, he reached Rank ten and stood on the threshold of his first spirit ring. The crowd watched with renewed curiosity: what ring would a boy with such a past and such patronage obtain?
Before the answer could appear, the heavenly curtain paused.
"First part finished. Take a break. Comparison subject Dragon God Douluo Yu Xiaogang will begin shortly."
The screen's message left the Douluo Continent in suspended breath. One life had been laid bare—arrogance, humiliation, stubborn paternal love, and the slow, grudging climb from disgrace. Now the world waited to see the other path: how a transmigrator's choices had turned the same name into a Dragon God.