Sea Dragon Douluo – Will and Authority
Their training began atop the Storm Spire, a jagged obsidian tower that jutted from the ocean like a monument to war. The wind tore through the air with relentless force, howling as though the sea itself tested Shenling's resolve.
Sea Dragon Douluo stood atop the platform, golden eyes blazing like distant suns. His aura radiated dominance—primal, immovable.
"Command the ocean," he barked. "Or be consumed by it."
Shenling looked out over the crashing waves, his fists clenched. "But I'm not ready to command anyone," he murmured. "I can't even control myself."
Sea Dragon Douluo's expression darkened. "That uncertainty is a luxury. The sea does not wait for you to be ready. It bows to those who claim it."
He unleashed a surge of spiritual energy so dense and crushing that Shenling dropped to his knees. The pressure curled around his limbs like chains.
Shenling gasped, shoulders trembling. "This... this feels like I'm drowning."
"You are," Sea Dragon said coldly. "And if you don't stand, you'll never rise from it."
"I can't!" Shenling groaned, sweat pouring down his back.
"Then you are not worthy of the Sea God's legacy!" Sea Dragon shouted. "You are not a vessel for divine power. You are a boy playing at godhood!"
Those words sliced deeper than any blade. Shenling's knuckles turned white.
"I will… rise," he muttered. "I have to."
Inch by inch, he fought gravity. The spiritual pressure cracked the stone beneath him, but Shenling stood. His knees trembled, but his gaze locked onto Sea Dragon's.
"I said—I will rise!" he roared, his energy bursting outward.
A pulse of blue and violet rippled the air. For a moment, the storm bent around him.
Sea Dragon smiled. "Good. Make the sea remember your name."
He stepped forward and placed a firm hand on Shenling's shoulder.
"You have the potential to lead, boy. But authority is more than power. It is about knowing when to fight and when to stand still. That is what I will teach you."
Over the following days, Sea Dragon did not go easy on Shenling. Each session tested the very limits of his endurance. Waves summoned by Sea Dragon's commands crashed around them, while spiritual pressure bore down on Shenling like the wrath of the deep.
One night, as they rested by a fire built in a hollowed shell, Sea Dragon finally spoke with something resembling warmth.
"I once lost a disciple to arrogance. He tried to command the sea before he earned its respect. It swallowed him whole."
Shenling turned, eyes wide. "What happened?"
"He drowned, Shenling. Not in water—but in ambition. Promise me you won't be him."
"I promise," Shenling whispered. "I want to rise, but I'll do it right."
Sea Dragon Douluo's nod was slow, solemn. "Then I will teach you everything."
Sea Fantasy Douluo – Illusion and Discernment
The Veiled Lagoon shimmered with shifting light, its mist clinging to the skin like fine silk. It was here, among the spectral beauty of the dreamtide waters, that Shenling met Sea Fantasy Douluo.
Her movements were fluid, ethereal. She never stepped—she drifted, like a memory refusing to settle.
"This place bends truth," she murmured, her voice melodic. "Are you ready to find yours?"
Before Shenling could answer, the mist thickened. A hum vibrated through the air, and the world shifted.
He was no longer in the lagoon. He was in the sea again, just a babe, inside the drifting casket. The scent of salt and the lull of waves surrounded him. He felt the helplessness, the faint warmth of a memory he couldn't place.
Then, a voice—his mother's—soft, sorrowful.
"Forgive me… may the sea love you more than I ever could."
Shenling's eyes widened. "This… this isn't real."
"It is and it isn't," came Sea Fantasy's voice, echoing from every direction. "Illusions can be memories. Or lies. Sometimes they are both."
The scene shifted again. He was older, standing before Bo Saixi. Her face was cold, distant.
"You are nothing but a tool," she said.
"No… no, that's not true!" Shenling shouted. "She loves me! She's always loved me!"
"Then why does your heart doubt?" the illusions whispered.
Every moment of insecurity he'd felt echoed around him. Every judgment, every failure. His own voice began to turn against him.
"You'll never be the Sea God's heir. You're not strong enough. Not good enough."
"Enough!" Shenling roared. "I know what's real!"
And in that moment, the mist shattered.
The Veiled Lagoon returned, and Sea Fantasy stood before him, her gaze sharp.
"Good. Illusions lose power when faced with conviction. But remember—truth is fragile. You must guard it."
Shenling collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily. "I thought I was strong… but my doubts run deep."
"Of course they do," she said, kneeling beside him. "We are not measured by the absence of fear—but by how we walk through it."
She extended her hand. "Come. There is more to show you."
Over the next few days, she led him through increasingly complex illusions—alternate futures, corrupted reflections, false triumphs.
In one, he ruled the seas with cruelty. In another, he was forgotten. In all of them, a piece of him fractured.
"You must learn to recognize yourself," she explained, "no matter how many mirrors are placed before you."
One evening, she showed him a vision of himself—not as he was, but as he could be: graceful, confident, his powers fully awakened.
"Do you see that boy?" she asked.
Shenling nodded slowly. "I want to be him."
She smiled. "Then remember how he feels. Because that is your truth, not this fog."
In the final test, Shenling faced an illusion of Sea Fantasy herself. Cold. Mocking. She attacked him with mental blades, whispers that sought to unravel him.
"I'm not afraid of you," he said, eyes firm. "I see you. I see the real you."
The false Fantasy vanished, and the real one emerged from the mist, her expression unreadable.
"You passed," she said simply. "Most break. But you bent, and returned."
As she faded into the mists, her final words lingered: "Truth is not a destination—it is a path. Walk it well."
Sea Ghost Douluo – Spiritual Fortitude
If training with Sea Dragon was an assault on the body, then training with Sea Ghost Douluo was an assault on the soul.
Sea Ghost led Shenling deep beneath Sea God Island into the Abyssal Hollow, a sacred cavern where sunlight and sound were swallowed whole. The moment Shenling stepped inside, he felt as though the world had forgotten him.
"No enemies here," Sea Ghost said, his voice distant, echoing. "Only yourself."
The hollow was an ancient place. Walls lined with glowing sea crystal barely illuminated the black pool at its center. Shenling sat cross-legged beside it, silent. No training, no orders—just reflection.
Days passed like drifting seaweed. Shenling's mind became louder than the world around him. He heard the whisper of doubts, memories long buried—his parents' voices, the lull of the Siren, the fear of abandonment. The longer he stayed, the more he felt submerged beneath the weight of his own mind.
"You're not alone," came Sea Ghost's voice on the fourth night, quiet as a ripple. "But you must learn to face what haunts you before you can banish it."
Shenling looked into the water and saw reflections of his worst fears: Bo Saixi's disappointed eyes, the Seven Douluo turning their backs, the Sea God's projection shattering in rejection.
"I don't want to be consumed by this," he muttered, hands clenching.
"Then define yourself," Sea Ghost replied. "Not by what you run from, but what you hold onto."
So Shenling began building something in his mind—a sanctuary, a lighthouse. Each brick a memory of kindness: Bo Saixi's lullabies, the laughter of disciples, the approving nod of Sea Dragon. It wasn't perfect, but it was his.
"I'm building a lighthouse," he said one evening. "So I can find my way back when the tides pull too hard."
Sea Ghost stepped from the shadows, eyes gleaming faintly. "Then you have already found your anchor."
He guided Shenling into deeper meditation, teaching him how to mold his inner energy into structure. Not to suppress his emotions, but to understand them. To name them. Fear became caution. Sorrow became empathy. Anger became drive.
On the seventh night, Shenling sat unmoving for hours. When he opened his eyes, the pool's surface stilled, no longer reflecting dread—but serenity.
"You've seen your abyss," Sea Ghost said, pride flickering in his voice. "And now, you have climbed from it."
Sea Woman Douluo – Empathy and Restraint
The coastal grove shimmered beneath a halo of sunset, where coral trees bloomed with pink and lavender petals, and sea birds cried over the gentle surf. It was a sanctuary that pulsed with serenity—where Shenling was summoned next.
Sea Woman Douluo waited barefoot atop a pool of still water, each ripple from her step perfectly balanced. Her presence was calming, maternal, and yet there was a profound sadness beneath her eyes.
"You've endured pain, power, and illusions," she greeted gently, voice lilting like a lullaby. "But none of that matters without understanding others."
Shenling hesitated. "What do you mean?"
"True strength," she replied, beckoning him forward, "is not just the ability to command—but to feel, to understand. To embrace the storm and soothe it."
He followed her onto the water's surface, surprised to find himself able to walk upon it under her spiritual guidance.
Over the next hours, they sat together in the center of the lagoon, unmoving. The sea whispered between them, soft and ceaseless.
"Close your eyes," she instructed, "and listen."
Shenling obeyed. For a long time, there was only silence… and then, slowly, he began to feel.
He sensed the emotions of the waves—their joy when birds danced across them, their sorrow when storms churned them. He felt a presence in the wind: laughter, pain, longing.
His eyes snapped open, stunned. "I… I can feel them. The ocean. The lives beneath it."
Sea Woman Douluo smiled faintly. "This is the heart of the Sea God's compassion. He does not rule through fear, but through connection. Through care."
Tears stung Shenling's eyes. "But how can I carry so much? It hurts."
"It must," she replied softly. "For if you numb yourself to pain, you numb yourself to joy as well."
She raised her hand, and the waters around them glowed with life. Schools of fish leapt joyfully, coral shimmered, and whales sang in the distance.
"Empathy is not weakness. It is your strength. The strongest waves come from the deepest places."
In their final lesson, she led him through the village on Sea God Island. They passed a boy scraping his knee, a mother singing to her infant, an old man lost in memory.
"Feel them," she whispered.
Shenling did. He felt the ache of loss, the bloom of love, the sting of loneliness, and the flicker of hope. It overwhelmed him.
"They carry these feelings alone?" he asked, breathless.
"Yes. And now, you carry them too. But you don't have to carry them forever—only long enough to understand. That is the balance."
That night, as the moon crowned the sea, Sea Woman Douluo and Shenling sat together in silence.
"You are more than power," she said at last. "You are more than destiny. You are someone who listens."
Shenling bowed low, tears slipping freely. "Thank you."
Her arms encircled him briefly—warm, tender.
"When the storms rise within you," she said, "remember this peace. And return to it."
And so, Shenling did not leave stronger in body, or faster in reflex. But he left with something deeper: a soul anchored in compassion.