"Innate soul power: Level 12."
The words echoed in the vast Awakening Hall of Spirit Hall, at the base of Angel God's statue.
When the crystal ball dimmed, young Qian Xunji's fists clenched. His lips trembled, his heart heavy with disappointment.
'Level 12… Not 15 like father,… will he look down on me?'
Qian Daoliu's stern eyes softened for the first time in the day. He knelt before his son, placing a heavy, warm hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Xunji, do not lower your head." His voice was deep, carrying the weight of a patriarch, yet laced with rare gentleness. "You are my son, a child of the Qian family. What flows in your veins is the light of the Angel Goddess herself. Whether it is 12, 15, or even 20, your destiny is not decided by a number at birth. It is decided by what you forge with your hands and your resolve."
The boy raised his head slowly, eyes shimmering. "But Father, you awakened with innate Level 15… .If I cannot match you, how can I ever prove myself worthy?"
Qian Daoliu chuckled, the sound low and proud. He pointed toward the towering statue of the Angel Goddess behind him.
"Do you know, Xunji, why our family bears her blessing? Why Spirit Hall exists? Since the day our ancestor became one with the Angel God, Spirit Hall has been the shield of this continent. When evil soul masters sought to slaughter villages, who stood in their way? When demonic sects spread chaos, who eradicated them root and branch? Always Spirit Hall."
His gaze sharpened, his eyes glowing faintly. "Strength is not just about what you are given. It is about what you seize. Every evil soul master you slay, every life you protect, every act of justice you deliver—these will polish your soul until it shines brighter than any 'innate number.' That is what it means to be Angel's heir."
The boy's heart pounded in his chest. His father's words, spoken with such conviction, carved themselves into his bones.
'To protect the continent… To be the shield… To prove myself to Father…'
Starry-eyed, Qian Xunji looked at the golden statue, his small fists clenching tight.
That night, he swore a vow in silence.
'I will not be remembered as the one who fell short. I will become stronger than anyone. I will cleanse this world for the Angel God.'
—
His growth stunned even the elders of Spirit Hall.
By the age of fourteen, Qian Xunji stood as a Soul Ancestor at Level 45. His talent was undeniable, sharpened not just by his bloodline but by his ferocious diligence. He threw himself into cultivation like a man starving for air. But cultivation alone was not enough for him.
He joined the Angel Corps, not as a pampered heir, but as a warrior.
The first time he went on patrol against roaming evil soul masters, his hands trembled around the hilt of his spear. The corps had tracked a small group of killers who preyed upon traveling merchants, leaving trails of blood across two provinces.
When the fight broke out, he was nearly struck down. The image of a child's corpse, discarded by those bandits, burned itself into his eyes. Rage consumed him. He unleashed his soul rings without hesitation, spearing the enemy through the throat.
That night, staring at the blood on his hands, Xunji felt no regret.
Instead, he felt… exhilaration.
'This is what Father meant. To destroy evil, to be the hand of justice. If I must kill a thousand to protect one innocent, then so be it.'
The corps commander praised him, and Qian Daoliu's eyes gleamed with approval when he returned.
But deep inside, a seed had been planted. A dangerous seed.
The seed of fanaticism.
----
One Day, The Angel Corps unit was fighting fiercely with a group of evil soul masters, the clash of soul skills shaking the air. Qian Xunji had seen a lone figure fleeing into the shadows—a Soul Elder, barely worth his attention compared to the real threat.
He followed silently, tracking the aura through the dense forest until he reached a remote mountain village. Smoke curled lazily from the chimneys, children's laughter faintly echoing between wooden houses. For a fleeting moment, he thought it would be easy—strike quickly, return to the squad, and be praised.
In his quick growth of strength Qian Xunji seemed to have forgotten his caution. He paid for it very dearly when he stepped into the square.
A sudden cold wind swept the area, followed by a black flash. Pain erupted in his chest. Qian Xunji staggered back, his vision blurring. The Soul Elder had been waiting. From the shadows, several more figures emerged, their laughter cruel and mocking.
This was a trap, there were more than a single soul master present.
Chains of spirit energy wrapped around him, and despite his valiant resistance, the wound sapped his strength. Soon, the prodigy of the Angel Clan was bound to a stake in the center of the village.
The villagers were dragged out of their homes, herded like cattle. They huddled together, mothers shielding their children, old men trembling, young men clutching hoes and sticks in futile defiance. Their strongest was barely a Level 12 Soul Master—powerless before the predators that surrounded them.
The leader stepped forward. His Martial Soul materialized—a grotesque spider skull, with purple flames flickering in its hollow eyes. Its eight bony legs scraped across the ground with a sound like nails on stone.
Qian Xunji, blood dripping down his face, whispered through clenched teeth, "Cleanse… you…"
The Soul Elder sneered. "Oh? The little angel wants to cleanse me? Then let me show you something special."
With a gesture, he activated his soul skill "Third soul skill: Connection."