As Qiangu Zhangting stood in the quiet meditation room, his mind was a battlefield. He knew the history of this world all too well. He knew that in the shadows of the Star Dou Great Forest, the Silver Dragon King—Gu Yuena—was still slumbering, waiting for the day she would wake up and weave the illusions that would turn the original Zhangting into a pathetic "Dragon Rider" clown.
Not this time, Zhangting vowed, his grip tightening on the phantom of his rod. I won't wait for her to play with my soul. I will become a force so absolute that even the Dragon King will have to reconsider her game.
Han Tianyi, oblivious to his disciple's transmigrator secrets, watched with a piercing gaze. "Aim for the top and you may reach the middle; aim for the middle and you will fall to the bottom. That is the first rule of the strong. Now, witness the second."
The mental world descended once more, but this time it was different.
Zhangting felt his consciousness being pulled into a void where Han Tianyi was God. Elements—Earth, Fire, Wind, and Water—collided and merged, creating mountains, boiling oceans, and screaming storms. It was the magnificent cycle of Elemental Creation. Life born from chaos, perishing back into the dust. It was intoxicating. For a moment, Zhangting felt himself slipping, wanting to simply copy this perfection.
Suddenly, the world vanished. Reality snapped back like a whip.
"Second point," Han Tianyi's voice was like ice. "Those who learn from me live, but those who imitate me die. Even if you find a god of elements later, remember: what belongs to others is a borrowed suit. It will never fit your soul. Innovate, Zhangting. Or fail."
The Elder stepped back, leaving the boy in a silence that felt heavier than a mountain. He wanted to see if Zhangting had the "Plum Blossom" spirit—the fragrance that only comes from enduring the bitter cold of solitary research.
The Mirror of the Mind
Time flowed like a sluggish river. Han Tianyi watched Zhangting's body, his disappointment growing. The mental fluctuations radiating from the boy were nearly identical to his own Elemental Creation.
Has he resorted to 'Borrowism' already? Han Tianyi sighed, a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. A noble house prodigy after all... too much resources, too little struggle. He's just copying my homework.
He walked toward Zhangting, intending to forcibly wake him. Even if he had to break the boy's meditation, he couldn't let his disciple walk into the trap of imitation. But as his mental feelers touched Zhangting's aura, Han Tianyi froze.
His cloudy pupils shrank to pinpricks. He was wrong.
Zhangting wasn't copying. He was simulating.
Using his dual-life mental talent, Zhangting had created a mental "sandbox." He was using Elemental Creation as a tool, not a goal. Inside his Sea of Spirit, he was smashing Han Tianyi's methods against the Cudgel Intent of the Qiangu family.
He was looking for a fusion. The Coiling Dragon Rod didn't want to "create" worlds—it wanted to shatter them.
In an instant, the peaceful aura of creation vanished. It was replaced by something violent, jagged, and terrifyingly concentrated.
Elemental Explosion.
"He succeeded? Just like that?" Han Tianyi whispered, stunned. He had found his own path at the Four-Ring stage. This boy had found his direction as a mere child with a single ring.
The Trial of the Ironclad Dragon
"I've found it, Teacher," Zhangting said, opening his eyes. They weren't the eyes of a child anymore; they were cold, focused, and humming with a destructive frequency. "A path that suits the Rod. Elemental Explosion."
Han Tianyi didn't waste words. He waved his hand, and the mental world descended again. This time, it wasn't a void of creation. It was a desolate arena.
With a roar that shook the very foundation of Zhangting's soul, a hundred-year Ironclad Dragon materialized.
Even as a sub-dragon species, its bloodline carried the faint, oppressive scent of the True Dragons. To a normal Spirit Master, this was a benchmark of terror. But Zhangting didn't flinch. For six years, he hadn't just sat idly at a desk; he had also been practicing the family's basic cudgel techniques, grinding his body into a weapon.
He summoned the Coiling Dragon Rod.
The purple spirit ring—the gift from IX—flared with a blinding light. The Gold element didn't just coat the rod; it became the rod. Zhangting felt the weight shift, the air around the weapon beginning to vibrate with unstable energy.
"Three strikes," Zhangting whispered, his voice echoing in the mental arena. "To dispel the dream of the dragon."
The Ironclad Dragon lunged, its massive claws tearing through the mental air. Zhangting didn't retreat. He stepped into the strike.
First Strike: The Shattering Impact.
He swung the rod not at the dragon, but at the air in front of its chest. At the moment of contact, the Gold element didn't just strike the scales—it detonated. The concentrated metallic energy exploded outward, creating a shockwave that sent the multi-ton beast sliding back, its "impenetrable" scales cracked and weeping.
The dragon roared in agony, its primitive mind confused by the sheer violence of the impact. It tried to sweep its tail, but Zhangting was already in the air.
Second Strike: The Piercing Gale.
This wasn't just a swing; it was a downward thrust. He channeled the Elemental Explosion into a single point at the tip of the rod. As it struck the dragon's head, the explosion was contained, driving the force deep into the skull. The sound was like a thunderclap in a small room. The dragon's knees buckled, its eyes rolling back.
"And the third," Zhangting's voice was a low growl.
Second-Generation Villain? No. He was a God in the making.
Third Strike: The Dragon's End.
He swung the rod in a full horizontal arc. The Gold element reached its peak instability. As the rod connected with the beast's neck, a supernova of metallic shards and raw force erupted. The Ironclad Dragon—the synonym for defense—was literally blown apart into spiritual fragments.
The arena went silent.
Zhangting stood in the center, the Coiling Dragon Rod resting on his shoulder. He wasn't panting. He wasn't tired. He looked disappointed that it was over so quickly.
Han Tianyi retracted the mental world, staring at his disciple in a new light. This wasn't just "talent." This was a predatory instinct.
"Elemental Explosion..." Han Tianyi murmured. "You didn't just learn. You conquered the element."
Zhangting looked at his teacher and gave a thin, dangerous smile. "Teacher, the dragon's dream is easy to break. I'm looking forward to the day I get to try this on a True Dragon."
The first lesson was over. But for the Douluo Continent, the nightmare had just begun.