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The sound of the bell echoed through the stone corridors of the Academy for Young Nobles. It signaled the fourth lesson of the day—one of the most important of the term: Spiritual Geopolitics.
The classroom was wide, with tall windows that let in the golden morning light. A colossal map of the Douluo Continent occupied the back wall, and on it, dozens of small flags and symbols were pinned—empires, sects, clans, and factions. All arranged like pieces on a living chessboard.
Lei Wuchen sat in his usual seat in the middle row. His eight-year-old face already bore an unusual maturity. Over the past two years, he had endured mockery, overcome obstacles, and built a solid reputation—not just as an innate genius, but as someone who never backed down. His name was beginning to earn respect.
The teacher was Elder Li Shentong, a man with a frail appearance, but whose presence made the students straighten their backs. A former advisor to the Empire, he had served as a war counselor in his youth.
"Sit down, children. Today, we'll talk about the true power that governs our world. I'm not just referring to spiritual strength… but to influence. To legacy. To the structures that have shaped the era we live in."
He raised a long bamboo pointer and aimed it at the center of the map.
"This is the heart of our continent: the Heaven Dou Empire. One of the two largest empires of the human world. Ruled by Emperor Xue Ye, it's an ancient empire with over two thousand years of history. Its capital, Heaven Dou City, is the political and military center of the north."
Some students raised their heads with pride. Many there had noble blood from Heaven Dou—including Wuchen.
"To the south, we have the Star Luo Empire," continued the elder. "An empire more inclined toward martial power, ruled by a royal lineage that passes the throne through succession combat. The royal family consists of incredibly powerful cultivators, and their culture values strength above all."
"Both empires coexist… for now. But there are tensions. Spies, fragile diplomacy, border disputes."
Shentong then moved the pointer to the east.
"Here is the Spirit Hall. The true colossus of our world. Founded nearly ten thousand years ago, it is a spiritual organization with authority over the registration and certification of spirit masters across the continent. They control rankings, missions, promotions. No one can become a respected elder or be officially recognized without passing through the Hall."
"Who leads that organization?" a student asked.
"It is currently led by Supreme Pontiff Qian Xunji. A man with a brilliant and spotless reputation, and… they say, the strongest man alive." He lowered his voice slightly. "Spirit Hall maintains a façade of religion, altruism, and service—but make no mistake: it is an empire within the empire. Its influence rivals—and in some ways exceeds—that of the two great nations."
Wuchen wrote in silence.
The elder now pointed toward the mountainous regions on the map.
"Beyond the empires and the Hall, we have the independent sects. Some are nearly legends. Others are real pillars of power."
"The first is the Seven Layers of Ice Sect, or Heavenly Snow Sect, located in the Northern Snowy Mountains. Specialists in ice- and water-type spirits."
"The second, perhaps the most mysterious, is the Blue Moon Clan, whose existence many deny. Said to wield the Speed Rabbit spirit and possibly connected to divine lineages."
"And the Four Elements Sect, composed of four families mastering the elements of fire, wind, water, and thunder. They are aligned with Spirit Hall."
He turned to the right wall, where smaller symbols were pinned.
"And then we have the spirit clans. Many were once powerful, but few have withstood political pressure. The main ones today are:"
1. Clear Sky Clan
2. Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan
3. Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan
He raised his first finger.
"The Clear Sky Clan is synonymous with raw power. Its members wield the Clear Sky Hammer, considered the most powerful among strength-type spirits. They now live reclusively in the mountains, but their name still inspires both respect and fear."
"Second is the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, heirs of a draconic bloodline. Their spirit is the Tyrant Dragon, a lightning-type beast with massive destructive power. Their bloodline is rare and extremely potent. Many of their descendants become elite spirit masters."
"Lastly, we have the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan, the most powerful support-type clan on the continent. Their spirit, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile, can significantly amplify their allies' attributes—attack, defense, speed. In group combat, they're nearly unbeatable."
Wuchen saw some classmates nod in agreement. He himself found it fascinating—a spirit that didn't directly attack, but transformed a whole team into unstoppable warriors.
"The current clan leader is Ning Fengzhi. At his side are two renowned guardians:"
"Sword Douluo Chen Xin, master of the Seven Kill Sword—a spirit so sharp it can cleave mountains."
"And Bone Douluo Gu Rong, whose Bone Dragon spirit grants immense defense and unique skills. Together, they're feared even among high-level Douluos."
There were murmurs of awe. Other minor clans were also mentioned:
Divine Boar Clan — pure strength and endurance techniques. Nearly extinct.
Poison Spirit Clans, like the White Ghost Clan — reclusive and dangerous.
Feline Spirit Clans — agile and offensive, now dissolved into minor families.
"And above all these names… there are rumors. Of gods. Of ancient inheritances. Of forbidden techniques that defy the physical world. But that… is a subject for another lesson."
Shentong rested the pointer in the corner and looked at the class.
"What you need to remember, children, is that the world is shaped by martial strength, political influence, and spiritual authority. Alliances shift. Thrones fall. But those with true power... mold the future."
He paused, then fixed his gaze on Wuchen.
"And some of you, if you survive… may become the pieces that change the game."
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The days passed slowly after that. Wuchen could feel signs of spiritual overload in his body. The spiritual energy that once flowed gently through his meridians now pulsed with greater pressure. His senses were sharper, his dreams more vivid.
One night, about a month earlier, while meditating in the courtyard outside his dorm, the spiritual flow in his dantian exploded. A wave of heat surged through his chest.
The Iron Tyrant Armor activated on its own, a century-old spirit ring rising behind him, enveloping his body in a dull metallic glow. His muscles contracted, bones cracked. That was the sensation.
He had advanced. Level 20.
Wuchen opened his eyes with difficulty. His body was drenched in sweat.
But now, he needed his second spirit ring.
And that meant waiting. As he had done for a month now. He could have gone with a teacher from the academy, but he trusted no one there. So he had sent a letter to his father asking for guidance. So far, no reply had come. As a personal guard of the Duke, his father's work was complex, and time for them was rare.
Two days later, he received a letter.
> "My son,
I've heard of your breakthrough. Pride cannot describe what I felt reading your name among those who awakened. Prepare yourself. In three days, I will come for you.
Our destination is the Crimson Dusk Forest. There, you'll face your next battle."
Wuchen folded the letter and stored it carefully.
In the days that followed, he trained every spare second. The instructors noticed the change: more precise strikes, a stronger defense, perception beyond his peers.
On the marked morning, he left the academy walls. A simple carriage waited for him on the dirt road, beside a tall man, handsome, black-haired, with a strong build and deep eyes.
"Father."
Lei Qingshan nodded.
"You've grown."
They said nothing more. The journey would be long.
But in Wuchen's heart, a fire burned.
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