Dawn crept over Notting City Junior Soul Master Academy, its first pale rays slipping through the dormitory window of Qishe. Arthev's eyes opened in perfect sync with the light—no alarm, no sound, just ingrained habit. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stretched with deliberate quiet.
"Still asleep, huh?" he murmured, casting a glance at the others. Soft snores drifted through the room, mingling with the occasional creak of beds under shifting bodies. Tang San's blanket was, as always, perfectly folded—neat, precise, a mirror of his personality. Xiao Wu's pillow, on the other hand, was a chaotic mess, half-covered in her hidden stash of carrots.
Arthev allowed himself a small smirk. "classic."
He dressed in silence, pulling on his training gear with practiced ease. Grabbing his small travel bag, he slipped out of the dormitory without a sound. The morning air greeted him with a sharp, biting chill. He welcomed it. The sting helped sharpen his senses. It kept him alert. Focused.
He walked purposefully toward a secluded grove beyond the edge of the academy grounds. There, beneath a gnarled oak tree he had unofficially claimed as his own, he settled into a cross-legged position, facing the slow-burning glow of the eastern horizon. The first tendrils of sunlight painted the sky, and Arthev inhaled deeply, holding the warmth of morning in his lungs. With each exhale, he grounded himself deeper into the earth, anchoring mind and body.
"Tailed Beast possession is not about brute strength," he whispered to himself, his voice steady and low. "It is about control. Discipline," he thought, his mind already mapping the day's training regimen. "It is control—of the body and the mind. I am not using Shukaku. I am mastering him."
For the next hour, his breathing moved in perfect rhythm with the rise and fall of his internal energy. Every inhale sharpened his focus, every exhale released tension. Muscles tightened, then relaxed, aligning themselves with disciplined precision. Deep within, the sand stirred—slowly at first, like a sleeping dragon shifting in its lair.
By the time Arthev returned to Qishe, the dormitory remained hushed, wrapped in the stillness of early morning. He moved swiftly through his routine, showering under a blast of icy water that chased away the last remnants of drowsiness. Dressed in his travel clothes—sturdy boots, a reinforced tunic, and a hooded cloak that offered both concealment and protection—he checked his gear one final time.
His gaze sharpened as he slung the bag over his shoulder, voice low but firm.
"Practicing tailed beast possession here is too risky," he muttered. "Shukaku's soul power could leak through. Someone might detect it. It is better to go where no eyes follow."
He closed his eyes, drawing his awareness inward. His breathing slowed, thoughts dimmed, and the material world faded.
In its place rose a vast desert—sun-drenched and endless. Warm winds swept across the dunes, carrying the scent of scorched stone. Atop a distant hill of sand lounged Shukaku, his massive form partially buried, amber eyes gleaming with mischief.
"Took you long enough," the beast rumbled, his voice deep and resonant as his tail swayed lazily behind him. "You are finally letting me out to play?"
Arthev crossed his arms, unfazed by the creature's size or tone. "We are heading into the Hunting Soul Forest. You will have your 'playtime,' but do not overdo it. We need to remain unseen."
Shukaku let out a low chuckle, teeth flashing in a toothy grin. "No promises, brat. But I am curious what kind of soul beasts they have crawling around in that cage of theirs."
"Then behave," Arthev replied, turning on his heel. "We have work to do."
With that, the desert faded, and his consciousness returned to his body. No hesitation. No delay. His feet were already in motion, carrying him toward the academy gates—and into the wild unknown of the forest beyond.
"Forest trip, huh, Stunned Face?" Shukaku's gravelly voice echoed in Arthev's mind, laced with dry mischief. "About time you let me stretch a bit. Maybe crush a few trees? Chase some poor beasties until they wet themselves?"
Arthev did not flinch. His tone was calm and measured, each word deliberate and crisp. "We are training tailed beast possession. This is not a rampage—keep the aura suppressed. We move unnoticed."
"Tch. Always with the leash," Shukaku grumbled, sprawling onto his back in the vast expanse of the mental desert. "Fine, I will behave. Mostly. But if a big, juicy soul beast shows up, I make absolutely zero promises about avoiding a sandstorm."
Arthev's mental gaze narrowed, his presence sharpened. "One leak of your soul power, and someone strong will come sniffing around. You are already Titled Douluo level—94, perhaps even higher. They would sense you from halfway across the kingdom."
"Heh. Big words for a squirt like you," the tailed beast snorted, amusement rumbling deep in his throat. But his wide, jagged grin stretched even further. "Still, I like your spine, kid. Let us roll."
Arthev pulled back from his inner world, the mental landscape fading as he opened his eyes. His expression was calm, his focus razor-sharp. Without hesitation, he stepped out of Qishe and into the fresh morning light, moving briskly through the awakening streets of Notting City. His destination loomed steadily ahead—quiet but imposing: the local branch of Spirit Hall.
------
The building stood just as intimidating as Arthev remembered—tall and imposing, its polished stone facade catching the morning light like a blade. A golden sword was mounted above the arched entrance, gleaming proudly as if to ward off the unworthy. Inside, white-robed clerks glided through the hallways with near-spectral grace, their movements quiet and precise. The interior walls were adorned with grand murals—seraphic beings and legendary soul masters frozen in eternal glory, their painted eyes glowing faintly in the dim interior light.
At the front counter of Spirit Hall, a sharp-eyed clerk fixed Arthev with a pointed stare. Her gaze was direct, no-nonsense.
"A warrant for the Hunting Soul Forest?" she asked, her voice brisk and clipped. "You are young. Very young. Do you have the coin?"
Without hesitation, Arthev reached into his bag and produced a small pouch. He placed it on the polished desk, and the distinct clink of gold soul coins rang through the otherwise silent hall.
"This should cover it," he replied evenly, his tone calm and self-assured.
The clerk opened the pouch and began counting, her fingers moving with trained precision. With each metallic clink, her frown deepened, but she said nothing. Finally, after a quiet moment, she reached beneath the desk and pulled out a stamped parchment.
"You are cleared," she stated curtly, sliding the document across the counter toward him. "But do not expect a refund if you fail to return."
"I will not need one," Arthev replied, pocketing the permit with quiet confidence.
Exiting Spirit Hall, he turned east, making his way toward the vast forest that loomed at the edge of Notting City. Dense, shadowed, and untamed—it held danger in every root and branch, but also the promise of growth and strength.
At the forest's gated entrance, a grizzled guard clad in silver-plated armor stepped forward, blocking his path. The man's eyes swept over Arthev from head to toe, his expression unimpressed. "You sure about this, kid? People die in there. Soul masters included."
Arthev said nothing. He reached into his cloak and calmly produced his student identification and the stamped Spirit Hall warrant. Then, with controlled precision, he released a pulse of soul power—level 18. The air around him vibrated with a faint hum, subtle but unmistakable.
The guard's eyes narrowed, and a flicker of surprise crossed his weathered features. After a moment of silence, he stepped aside with a grunt.
"Hmph. Brave or foolish—I have seen both. Just watch your back. Beasts do not care how talented you are."
Arthev gave a small, respectful nod. "Thank you."
Without looking back, he crossed the threshold into the forest. The rich scent of moss, bark, and damp earth met him immediately. Shafts of sunlight pierced the high canopy above, scattering golden patterns across the forest floor. With each step he took, the noise of the city fell away, replaced by the deep, watchful silence of the wild.
From his pack, he drew a tightly wrapped pouch. Within it, nestled in clean cloth, were kunai and shuriken—silent steel meant for emergencies. His instincts sharpened, and his movements grew more precise. Every footfall, every breath, was measured.
But suddenly—he felt it.
A subtle shift in the air.
His steps slowed.
Something—or someone—was watching.
It was not obvious. Just a faint pressure, lingering at the edge of perception, like a whisper brushing against the back of his mind. He paused for the briefest moment and glanced over his shoulder, eyes scanning the dense weave of trees.
Nothing stirred.
Not a branch. Not a leaf.
But Arthev did not let it show on his face.
If it follows, it will reveal itself eventually.
With quiet resolve, he continued forward, slipping deeper into the forest's shadowed heart. Each step was controlled, soundless, the kunai pouch at his side a comforting weight.
Deep in his subconscious, Shukaku stirred.
"Someone is tailing us, huh?" the beast rumbled with a low chuckle. "Finally. Things are starting to get interesting."
---
Earlier, in the city's outer fringe—
Arthev had slipped through a narrow alley, weaving between crumbling walls and fading lanterns. The buildings began to thin, and the air shifted—fresher, cooler. The faint scent of pine teased the edge of the breeze, signaling that the forest was near.
But just before he could reach the tree line—
A figure materialized.
No warning. No sound. Just presence.
A towering man clad in black, his cloak trailing behind him like smoke. His aura crashed down upon Arthev like a tidal wave, suffocating and absolute.
Arthev froze.
His muscles locked on instinct. His breath caught mid-inhale.
An overwhelming silence fell between them, heavy as stone.
The pressure was crushing—like a mountain pressing down on his chest.
The man stood silent, unmoving. His face remained obscured beneath the brim of a black hat, but his eyes—those eyes—pierced through the shadows. Fierce. Timeless. Unblinking. They stared straight into Arthev's soul.
Tang Hao.
A chill ripped down Arthev's spine.
Haotian Douluo. Rank 95.
His thoughts surged like a storm. Why now? Why here?
Is it because of Tang San? His mind grasped for logic, for reason. Or did he sense something else… Shukaku? The tailed beast power? No—more likely the soul beast aura…
His knees buckled slightly. The bark of a nearby tree bit into his back as he stumbled and braced himself against the trunk, grounding his balance. Cold sweat clung to his skin, tracing a line down the curve of his spine.
He clenched his jaw and exhaled slowly through gritted teeth, steadying his breath.
"Oi, Stunned Face!" Shukaku's voice burst through Arthev's mind like a crack of thunder—half-warning. "That guy is a freakin' strong! His power's almost on my level—maybe worse, maybe higher! Are you seriously thinking of walking toward that?!"
"I do not know," Arthev answered silently, his mental voice composed but tight, eyes locked unwaveringly on the man ahead. "But I need to understand why he is here."
And so, without turning away, he began to walk—each step measured, deliberate, and heavy with resolve.
He stopped just a few paces from the cloaked figure, maintaining a respectful distance. His posture remained tall, back straight, shoulders squared—but beneath the surface, every muscle was coiled under the weight of immense spiritual pressure.
Still, he stood his ground.
He met those ancient, fire-forged eyes head-on, refusing to yield even a flicker of fear.
"Senior," Arthev said, voice clear and composed despite the tightness gripping his chest, "may I ask who you are?"
There was no immediate reply.
Tang Hao's eyes—razor-sharp, inscrutable—narrowed fractionally, as if measuring something only he could see. Something beneath Arthev's skin. Beneath his soul.
For a long, breathless moment, even the wind seemed to still. The rustling leaves held their breath. The birds dared not sing.
The forest waited.
Waited for the Douluo to speak.
To be continued.....