Holy Spirit Cult Headquarters, beneath the Demonic Forest — the Sanctum of Souls.
The underground complex spanned over a thousand acres, its walls carved from pure granite and illuminated by countless embedded soul devices that filled the cavern with an eerie golden light.
It was both majestic and terrifying — a monument to darkness.
Over a thousand Evil Soul Masters had gathered here, most ranging from three to six Soul Rings in strength, while two hundred of them radiated power far greater.
Under Zhongli Wu's command, every cultist stood in disciplined formation around a massive open plaza, their eyes fixed on the youth standing beside their leader — Ethan.
Many among the younger generation looked at him with thinly veiled hostility.
From the faint ripples of his aura, it was obvious that he had only just become a Soul Master.
To them, this "Holy Son" seemed weak — unworthy.
In the world of power, strength alone determines worth.
Even in the Holy Spirit Cult, where darkness reigned, that rule was absolute.
While the Cult could have multiple Saintesses, there was always only one Holy Son.
And if he failed to prove himself extraordinary, none would fear him — not even his own followers.
Before him, the air was thick with malice — hundreds of oppressive auras pressing down like a storm.
If Zhongli Wu hadn't quietly shielded Ethan with his own spiritual power, that pressure alone could have crushed him instantly.
---
"Holy Son," Zhongli Wu said, smiling faintly. "Release your Martial Soul."
Ethan nodded.
Soul Power surged through him, and his Spirit Eyes opened wide.
That strange gray-white Soul Ring shimmered once more beneath his feet, glowing faintly in the air.
The plaza erupted into murmurs.
> "A Body Soul? Isn't that the kind trained by the Body Sect?"
"That ring doesn't look like a normal color… what level is it supposed to be?"
"He's ten years old at least, right? And he's still only got one ring?"
"Pathetic…"
Ethan clenched his fists tightly, his heart pounding with anger.
He had endured humiliation once before in his life.
He refused to endure it again.
Zhongli Wu noticed the flicker of fury in his eyes and smiled — pleased.
That unwillingness, that pride, was exactly what he wanted.
He raised a hand for silence.
"Quiet."
The murmur died instantly.
"You must be wondering," Zhongli Wu continued slowly, "why I chose this child to be the Holy Son of our Cult. Allow me to tell you — that Soul Ring you see is a self-generated ring. His true Soul Power exceeds Level Thirty — the only one in all of Douluo Continent born with Innate Level Thirty Soul Power."
His words fell like thunder.
The hall went silent — then gasps spread like wildfire.
Legends spoke only of the Innate Level Twenty Angel, the one who had become a god.
But this boy… had surpassed even that.
Among the Cult, a few scholars versed in ancient theories whispered in awe:
"If the old records of the Spirit Hall are true, then… anyone born with Level Thirty or higher Soul Power is destined to ascend as a god!"
Indeed, it had long been rumored that Grandmaster Yu Xiaogang's Ten Core Competence Theory from millennia ago had been plagiarized — fragments stolen from Spirit Hall's forbidden archives.
Those archives had vanished with the fall of the Spirit Empire, their secrets scattered through time — but here, one stood before them as living proof.
---
Zhongli Wu looked satisfied with the cultists' shock.
He reached into his soul storage device and drew forth a black banner etched with runes — the Soul-Guiding Flag — and began to chant softly.
Those who knew him well understood what came next.
From the flag erupted a torrent of tormented wails — countless vengeful spirits rising into the air, their forms twisted and broken. Among them were Titled Douluo-class wraiths, slain by the Cult over centuries.
Zhongli Wu turned to Ethan.
> "Ethan, release your Martial Soul fully. I shall complete your second awakening before all present."
Ethan's face twitched.
If his Spirit Eyes truly absorbed these things, he might well become an uncontrollable monster — a being of pure destruction.
But refusal meant death.
One way or another, he would join the souls screaming inside that flag.
So he took a breath and obeyed.
His Spirit Eyes flared open — and the spirits reacted instantly, shrieking as they swarmed toward him.
---
Before hundreds of watching eyes, those mighty wraiths poured into Ethan's gaze one after another.
Each one struck his mind like a hammer blow.
Pain seared through his skull — unbearable, soul-splitting agony.
He screamed, clutching his head, as his Spirit Eyes devoured their essence.
Yet through the agony, Zhongli Wu smiled in satisfaction.
The boy's eyes burned with power — and promise.
This was how Evil Soul Masters awakened mental-type Martial Souls —
not through the body's limit like the Body Sect did, but through soul impact — flooding the spiritual sea with suffering until it evolved.
Most Evil Soul Masters were mentally fragile; few dared attempt this method.
But Zhongli Wu intended to raise Ethan as a true heir — the Holy Son of legend.
He would not allow his foundation to be flawed.
This was baptism through torment — the forging of a god in darkness.
---
Under the cult's collective gaze, ripples began to form across Ethan's eyes.
His once pale-blue irises deepened — until they burned crimson.
A crushing aura exploded from him, sweeping the entire plaza.
Ethan's Spirit Eyes were a spiritual Martial Soul — even at age six, his mental power had surpassed ordinary limits.
After years of cultivation, it had reached the Spirit Link Realm, and when he destroyed the Duke's Mansion, it rose to the Spirit Link Peak.
Now, under Zhongli Wu's relentless push, he broke through every barrier—
Spirit Sea Realm.
Mid Spirit Sea.
Spirit Sea Peak.
And then—
Spirit Abyss Realm!
A chasm without end.
A mind vast as the heavens and deep as the underworld.
Where thought alone could command reality.
Ethan's Spirit Eyes finally ceased devouring souls.
Zhongli Wu's expression was ecstatic.
He sealed the Soul-Guiding Flag and gripped Ethan's shoulder, trembling with awe.
Among all Evil Soul Masters — even the most gifted — none had ever reached the Spirit Abyss Realm so young.
---
Ethan could now sense his own reflection without a mirror — his spiritual consciousness so vast it enveloped him entirely.
His features had sharpened, his aura grown heavier.
Within his blood-red eyes, ripples of light pulsed hypnotically — reflections of his boundless power.
He could feel it.
His Spirit Eyes could now act — exerting power with pure thought alone.
He spread his arms.
A surge of mental force burst forth, lifting his body effortlessly into the air.
Another gray-white ring appeared beneath his feet — and as he rose higher, a wave of repulsive force exploded outward.
> Well then… Shinra Tensei, he thought with a dark grin.
Below, the thousands of cultists stared in awe as their Holy Son ascended into the air.
Light from the soul lamps behind him struck his silhouette, casting a divine — no, demonic — radiance.
In that instant, Ethan Hartwell looked like a god descended from the abyss.
> "All hail the Holy Son!"
"Glory to the Holy Son! Glory to the Holy Spirit Cult!"
Someone shouted first — and then the entire hall erupted in worship.
The crowd roared with fanatical devotion, bowing to him as though before a living deity.
Ethan gazed down at them, dazed, half-amused.
It almost reminded him of his previous life — of fans screaming themselves hoarse at concerts.
The senior Elders gathered beside Zhongli Wu, trembling with excitement.
"Congratulations, Master! The Holy Son has descended!"
Zhongli Wu threw back his head and laughed — loud, triumphant, unrestrained.
The sound echoed through the cavern as the Elders joined him, eyes burning with zeal.
> "Heaven bless the Holy Spirit Cult!"
And there, suspended in the air, Ethan could only sigh inwardly — before saying the only line that fit this over-the-top moment.
> "Now… let the world feel pain!"
He smirked faintly to himself.
> Alright… yeah, that was a little too dramatic.
---
(End of Chapter 4)