After transmigrating, Yu Xiaogang had little certainty about the Douluo Continent's future. One thing he did know: his body's natural talent was poor. Five aimless years had already made him a laughingstock. If his Martial Soul Awakening turned out weak, would that stain Yu Yuanzhen's reputation for years to come? The thought of that possibility—after all the care his father had given—was unbearable. He would rather die than let that happen.
So, soon after regaining his senses, Yu Xiaogang proposed something bold: begin cultivation before the Martial Soul Awakening.
On the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile School's stage, the idea sparked debate. Gu Rong voiced the conventional view: cultivating before Awakening was usually pointless—the continent's rules had been set for generations. Yet the heavenly curtain's footage showed a different life for this Yu Xiaogang: a childhood of hardship and choices that diverged from the norm. If those choices were the reason he overturned fate, perhaps the rules were not absolute.
Ning Fengzhi hesitated. Chen Xin counseled patience: let Dao answer in time. Across the Douluo Continent, factions watched the heavenly curtain closely. If pre‑Awakening cultivation worked, it would change how everyone trained.
The video continued. Yu Xiaogang's earnestness moved Yu Yuanzhen. He knelt, placed a hand on his son's head, and smiled with steady resolve.
"Silly son, don't worry. You will never be a stain on my life."
His words were gentle but unshakable. If Yu Xiaogang had been a stain, Yu Yuanzhen would have sent him away long ago. The father's choice warmed Yu Xiaogang's heart. Feeling the firm palm on his head, Yu Xiaogang shook it off and spoke with quiet determination.
"I may not be able to change everything, but I want to try."
Yu Yuanzhen asked the obvious question: cultivation is painful—can you endure it? Yu Xiaogang answered without hesitation: certainly.
Training began the next morning. On the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect's private ground, Yu Yuanzhen watched his five‑year‑old son run under a strict, fatherly gaze.
"Run! You think you can get stronger being this slow?"
Lap after lap, Yu Xiaogang pushed himself. His throat burned; breaths felt like shards of ice and fire. Sweat soaked his clothes; his legs grew heavy as if filled with lead. Every step ached. Every muscle screamed. He wanted to stop, to crawl back into warmth and sleep.
But the thought of becoming a lifelong joke—of others using him to mock Yu Yuanzhen—kept him moving. He gritted his teeth and endured.
When Yu Yuanzhen finally called a halt, Yu Xiaogang collapsed, utterly spent. The Sect Master's praise was simple: "Not bad." Inside, he was surprised. He had expected the boy to falter, to cry and quit. Instead, Yu Xiaogang had persevered without complaint. Ordinary children would have fled; this child had not.
Watching, Yu Yuanzhen compared his son to the Clear Sky Sect's prodigal twins. Their talent was obvious, but their Heart‑Nature had been inflated by praise; without correction, trouble would come. Seeing his own son's stubborn will, Yu Yuanzhen felt pride swell in his chest.
"Clear Sky Twins? Hmph. My son is no less capable."
The routine hardened into habit. After training, Yu Yuanzhen led Yu Xiaogang to the medicinal bath: a ritual to restore energy, prevent injury, and strengthen the body. As Sect Master, Yu Yuanzhen could mobilize top‑tier resources; the Elders grumbled, but he welcomed their complaints. His son had chosen to shoulder a burden for the family—how could he not support him?
The bath stung at first. Yu Xiaogang yelped and flinched, then forced himself to sit and endure. The medicine worked its way into sore muscles; his face twisted with every new sensation. When Yu Yuanzhen finally allowed him out, the boy felt as if he'd been pardoned. Yu Yuanzhen's voice carried a gentle pressure: "If you insist on cultivating, this will be your daily life." Yu Xiaogang answered without hesitation: "I can manage."
Under Yu Yuanzhen's guidance, the afternoons became meditation sessions. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect's methods favored lightning‑type Spirits, so Yu Xiaogang used only basic techniques—still superior to common methods across the continent. He absorbed spiritual power slowly; no Awakening came yet, but he was not discouraged. If cultivation produced instant results, the Douluo Continent would have started training long before Awakening existed.
Evenings were for study. Yu Yuanzhen's explanations over five years had been broad; now Yu Xiaogang read books, asked questions, and took notes. He learned about spirit rings, the advantages of Beast Spirits, and why physical strength mattered for acquiring high‑age rings. He cataloged everything, building knowledge to compensate for his weak natural talent.
For six months, his days followed this rhythm: training, medicinal baths, meditation, study. The Sect's members shook their heads. "The spirit hasn't even awakened yet, and they're already rushing to cultivate." But Yu Xiaogang persisted.
Then the Martial Soul Awakening arrived. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect held no grand ceremony—no standout geniuses that year, and Yu Xiaogang's past aimlessness left few expecting anything. When he stepped into the Awakening formation, golden light enveloped the hall. Dragons roared; the light shattered with a deafening crack.
A small, pig‑like beast appeared at Yu Xiaogang's feet.
Those who had expected nothing were not disappointed. The Innate Spirit Power test followed: Level 1.
Yu Yuanzhen's eyes, however, remained filled with deep worry as he watched his son in the formation. Under the heavenly curtain, forces across the continent erupted into uproar—some in scorn, some in curiosity, all watching to see whether the boy's relentless effort would change his fate.