The race for the throne was intensifying with every passing day.
The Queen Regnant, Aurelia, sovereign of Aurellan and living embodiment of the Solar Phoenix bloodline, was approaching Rank 95 —When she reached that threshold, she would retire from worldly matters to cultivate the Laws of the world, aiming to ascend into the highest, most unfathomable realms of strength.
And when that day came — the day the Queen stepped down — the throne would be left behind.
However, it is not a prize that can be claimed peacefully.
While Crown Prince Vaelen currently bore the title of heir, he was far from the only contender — or even the most dangerous one.
The Queen had four children, and each cast their own shadow across the future of Aurellan.
In age order, from oldest to youngest:
First Princess, Zhi Ying — a Rank 88 Spirit Douluo.
Her Spirit was the Golden Flame Phoenix—a potent offshoot of the Solar Phoenix bloodline—and her strength was bolstered by her father, King Consort Xiaobo, himself a Rank 94, with the title The Golden Flame Douluo; his spirit is the Golden Flame Element.
Though Zhi Ying showed little interest in the throne — preferring to walk the path of pure martial cultivation — her power was undeniable.
In open combat, she could easily defeat Crown Prince Vaelen.
Her indifference to rulership was perhaps the only reason Vaelen still breathed easily today.
Second Princess, Si Yu — a Rank 77 Spirit Saint.
Born of a low-ranking concubine rather than a formal consort, Si Yu bore the stigma of being the only royal child without the Solar Phoenix Spirit or a variant.
Instead, she manifested a rare, independent Spirit — the Serene Lotus.
The other noble houses whispered behind her back, ridiculing her lack of "true royal blood."
But those who dismissed her were fools.
Because Si Yu's power was real.
Real enough that, given time, she could rise into a force none would dare mock.
And then there was Second Prince, Zixin — the fourth child of the Queen.
A Rank 70 Spirit Emperor, still young but with terrifying potential burning in his veins.
His father was none other than Royal High Consort Taio, the Rank 91 Falling Star Douluo, a master of the elusive and deadly Gravity Spirit.
From the moment of his birth, Zixin was marked for greatness — carrying a bloodline intertwined with the Solar Phoenix and the mysterious, devastating forces of gravity itself.
Though he lacked Vaelen's seniority, Zixin's steady cultivation and brutal training hinted at a future where he might surpass even the Crown Prince.
Already, many among the younger nobility watched him with cautious hope — or hidden fear.
The Crown Prince needed no more contenders.
Not when his position was already hanging by a thread — not when every misstep could be his last.
He needed a merit.
A great, undeniable victory under his name.
Once, eliminating the "declining" Dugu Clan would have been a simple matter — a word whispered into the right ears and....poof.
They had been considered relics — shadows of a poisonous past, fading quietly into obscurity.
But now…
Now they showed their teeth.
They fought against the fate the world had assigned them.
They grew, developed, evolved each passing day — gathering strength like storm clouds over the southern marshes.
The Dugu Clan was no longer something that could be ignored.
They were becoming a threat.
A challenge.
A future catastrophe, if left to grow unchecked.
Therefore, Vaelen went to the one man he knew could act beyond the suffocating web of court politics.
The only one who might still see the danger clearly.
His father — the Glowing Feather Douluo of the Spirit Hall.
The meeting was arranged quietly, in a private hall within the old Spirit Hall embassy in the capital.
No grand retinues.
No witnesses.
Just father and son — bound by blood, by ambition, and by mutual necessity.
Vaelen entered first, dressed in a muted version of his usual finery — no princely gold today, only deep crimson robes stitched with black phoenix feathers.
He bowed, deeply, not merely out of respect — but because he needed what he was about to ask for.
The Glowing Feather Douluo stood by the tall windows, arms folded behind his back, his Spirit Power so dense it seemed to warp the very air around him.
He turned slowly, his sharp, elegant face betraying little.
Only the faintest quirk of an eyebrow as he regarded his son.
Vaelen wasted no time.
"Father," he said, voice low and urgent.
"We need to eliminate the Dugu Clan."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice further, though they were alone.
"They are showing... concerning movements. Rapid development. Dangerous alliances. Their ambitions are no longer hidden."
For a moment, silence reigned between them.
Only the faint crackle of Spirit Power against the windowpanes broke the stillness.
Then, finally, the Glowing Feather Douluo spoke — voice smooth, cultured, but edged with iron:
"And you come to me," he said, "because you know your mother will not allow it."
Vaelen stiffened but said nothing.
The truth was plain enough.
Queen Aurelia would never permit an open assault on the Dugu Clan — not without overwhelming proof of rebellion.
She prized stability above all else, especially as she approached the final stages of her reign.
But Vaelen could not wait.
He bowed his head, hands clenched tightly at his sides.
"I need your help," he said simply.
"If the Dugu Clan rises any higher... if they claim the throne by right of blood... I am finished."
The Glowing Feather Douluo regarded him for a long moment, weighing.
Calculating.
Then, at last, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Very well," he said softly.
"But know this, my son — if we move against them, it must be final."
He turned back toward the window, staring out at the distant skyline of the capital.
"No half-measures. No mercy. Crush them completely...in fact…I will do it myself."
Vaelen straightened, relief washing over him, mingled with a cold, focused anticipation.
"Yes, Father," he said, voice filled with quiet steel. "I understand."
______________________________________________
While a walking disaster known as the Glowing Feather Douluo was preparing to descend upon them, the Dugu Clan continued to grow — steady, patient, and unstoppable.
The Grand Expedition had proceeded with stunning success.
One by one, the members of the subsidiary clans secured their Spirit Rings — each carefully selected and guided, their foundations reforged according to the Dugu Clan's new philosophy.
When the last Spirit Master among them had succeeded, they returned to Viremoor Keep with high spirits and bright eyes, the banners of their new clans flying proudly overhead.
The atmosphere was light — a sharp contrast to the heavy tension that had existed when the expedition first began.
It was not merely a return.
It was a rebirth.
And so, as the vast convoy made its way back toward their stronghold, the group that remained behind in the wild forests was far smaller — but infinitely more important.
Only twenty-two remained now:
Six younger members of the Dugu main branch, six older members, and their loyal attendants.
Still a large group by standard expeditionary practice, but small enough to move with agility and secrecy.
The next generation — and their protectors.
And within that core group, Xin stood at the forefront.
At just six, he had already reached Rank 18 — a pace of cultivation so fast that it made even the seasoned Elders exchange uneasy glances.
But when their eyes turned toward Dugu Bo — their Clan Leader, their monster of a patriarch — who had recently broken through to Rank 87 Spirit Douluo, any words of praise for Xin suddenly felt hollow.
For what was astonishing for a young prodigy…
Was merely expected in the bloodline of Dugu Bo.
Still, those closest to the truth knew better.
Xin's progress was staggering not merely because of his blood, but because of his will — the unrelenting, knife-edged ambition he carried behind his calm, courteous smile.
Where others advanced because of luck or opportunity, Xin advanced by sheer, calculated design.
He had plans.
The deeper they moved into the wild heart of the forest, the more the atmosphere changed.
Here, the air itself seemed heavier, saturated with Spirit Power so dense it weighed down the body.
Every step forward was a step into older, darker territory.
It didn't take long before they encountered the children's first opponent.
A 10,000-year-old Human-Faced Spider — a towering, grotesque beast with long, spindly legs ending in gleaming black blades, its bloated abdomen shimmering with a sickly iridescence.
Its face, disturbingly human-like, twisted into a cruel mockery of a grin as it sensed their approach.
The younger members tensed, instinctively preparing their Spirit Energy.
But Dugu Bo merely lifted a hand, a silent command freezing everyone in place.
His golden eyes flickered toward his eldest son.
"Good practice for you, Xin'er," he said lightly, as if discussing the weather.
Xin stepped forward immediately, his expression calm and focused.
Bo's next words carried the sharp edge of a test:
"Don't use your Winged Glacial Phosphor Serpent."
Xin blinked once — surprised but not questioning.
Instead, he simply nodded.
"Only your Bronze Cauldron," Bo continued, his voice low and firm.
"Subdue it. Force it into submission — make it sacrifice its cultivation voluntarily."
A few of the older Dugu clan members exchanged glances — impressed despite themselves.
Forcing a 10,000-year-old Spirit Beast into submission without outright killing it was no small feat — even for a seasoned Spirit Ancestor.
"And while we're here..." Bo added, almost casually,
"We might as well secure your second Spirit Rings too."
Xin's heart thudded once in his chest, not from fear — but from excitement.
The path of cultivation was built on seizing moments exactly like this.
He stepped forward onto the clearing where the spider waited, its eight gleaming eyes narrowing, sensing a threat — but also underestimating the boy who approached it without summoning a "proper" Beast Spirit.
Xin took a slow breath, centering himself.
He extended his right hand — and with a pulse of golden light, the Bronze Cauldron materialized before him.
Massive, imposing, etched with ancient sigils of alchemy and force, it hovered slightly above the ground, humming with restrained energy.
Around him, the younger siblings and servants watched, holding their breath.
Even the older generation stood silent, sensing the magnitude of the moment.
The Human-Faced Spider hissed, flexing its talon-like legs.
Poison dripped from its fangs, sizzling as it hit the ground.
And Xin moved.
The Bronze Cauldron hovered steadily behind him, radiating a deep, resonant hum.
Unlike typical tool spirits, it wasn't summoned to attack directly.
Instead, it poured its energy into Xin's body — buffing his muscles, reinforcing his bones, and hardening his tendons like tempered steel.
Xin surged forward — so fast that to the untrained eye he became a blur.
The Human-Faced Spider shrieked, rearing up on its hind legs, poisonous fangs flashing in the dappled forest light.
Its long, bladed forelimbs sliced downward with a crackling hiss of spirit power.
But Xin was faster.
His right fist shot out — a clean, brutal strike straight into the spider's joint.
The impact came almost silently — a soft thud — but the sound of it hitting echoed a heartbeat later, like thunder chasing lightning.
Crack!
The spider staggered back, its leg trembling from the force of the blow.
Its exoskeleton, strong enough to deflect swords, now showed faint fractures spreading outward from the point of contact.
Xin did not pause.
He slipped under the beast's next wild strike, weaving through its legs like water, every step driven by the amplifying pulse of the Bronze Cauldron's power strengthening him from within.
Left. Right. Uppercut to the exposed abdomen. Elbow to the thorax.
Every strike landed, every movement flowed like a carefully rehearsed dance of brutality.
The spider screeched again, its limbs flailing.
It tried to spray venom — a mist of death — but Xin anticipated it, covering his mouth and nose with a barrier of spirit energy.
He darted in close once more, aiming a vicious spinning kick directly into one of its supporting legs.
Another crack! echoed.
The spider stumbled, its balance broken.
The Bronze Cauldron behind Xin pulsed brighter, surging more energy into him — a steady, relentless drumbeat strengthening every fiber of his body beyond its limits.
Xin planted his feet firmly into the cracked earth, drew back his fist, and aimed for the spider's "human" face — the nerve center of its mind and body.
With a final roar, Xin drove his punch forward.
BOOM!
The spider's body shook violently from the impact.
It collapsed, spasming — not dead, but broken.
Its spirit energy fluctuated wildly, a sign that its will had been shattered by Xin's relentless assault.
It whimpered — yes, whimpered — and lowered its massive, disgusting head, submitting instinctively to the power that had so thoroughly crushed it.
The fight was over.
Not by death.
Not by slaughter.
But by domination.
Xin exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension in his muscles.
Sweat clung to his brow, but his eyes burned with clear, cold focus.
Behind him, Dugu Bo nodded slightly — the faintest hint of a smile ghosting his lips.