All rights reserved to the respective authors.
"Dialogue": Represented in double quotes for conversations between characters.
'Thoughts': Represented in single quotation marks, indicating the characters' internal reflections.
[Diary]: Represented in square brackets, used for messages intended for the heroines or entries written by Tenshin.
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[With the mystery of Tang San's twin martial souls finally unraveled, it was time to address the other topic: his so-called full innate soul power.]
[Let's be clear right from the outset—Tang San's innate soul power isn't truly full. Not in the traditional sense. It's… artificially elevated.]
The heroines' eyes widened in disbelief. 'Artificially? How could that even be possible?' The idea defied everything they thought they knew. It was unthinkable.
[Under normal circumstances, innate soul power is set at birth—determined by the quality and compatibility of one's martial soul. A soul master's ceiling was thought to be decided the moment their martial soul awakened. But Tang San wasn't ordinary.] [He had brought something with him into this life: a hidden edge from his past existence in the Murim World—the Mysterious Heaven Skill, a profound internal cultivation method refined over centuries in a different realm of martial arts.]
[Unlike the standard cultivation techniques on the Douluo Continent, which rely on one's martial soul as a conduit to draw in and harmonize with the ambient energies of heaven and earth, the Mysterious Heaven Skill was wholly independent. It bypassed the martial soul entirely, allowing direct absorption, refinement, and circulation of energy through the body.]
[And because of that, Tang San began cultivating before his martial soul ever awakened. By the morning of the Martial Soul Awakening Ceremony, he had already reached a bottleneck—the first cap of the Mysterious Heaven Skill, equivalent to level 10 soul power.]
When this revelation surfaced in the diary's latest entry, it sent shockwaves through its readers. A silence, deep and stunned, overtook them. Tenshin's analysis had just overturned a core belief of soul master society: that innate soul power was fixed at birth and immutable. Now, that belief lies in tatters.
This wasn't merely a personal advantage Tang San had secured. It was something far more seismic—an earth-shaking loophole that shattered the traditional understanding of the cultivation system. A secret that, if widely known, could rewrite the rules for generations to come.
Spirit Hall
Within the vast, vaulted chamber of the Spirit Hall, Bibi Dong sat poised and motionless. Her fingertips lightly traced the diary's edge, her gaze locked onto the words as if reading them could grant her deeper truths. Despite holding the title of Pope and being counted among the most formidable powers on the continent, this discovery was entirely foreign to her. The very idea that innate soul power could be enhanced… it shook the foundations of her knowledge.
Yes, there were whispers of immortal herbs—mythic plants said to awaken hidden potential or enhance natural talent—but despite years of dispatching scouts across the continent, she had found little more than rumors and exaggerations. The few genuine discoveries were vanishingly rare, exorbitantly priced, and their effects disappointingly limited.
But the Mysterious Heaven Skill? This was different. This was systematic. Scalable.
If it truly worked as described, it could revolutionize the future of cultivation. Children born with only level 3 or level 5 innate soul power might rise to level 10—surpassing thresholds once thought unreachable—before their martial soul even manifested. Even those once deemed hopeless could rise from obscurity and shape their own destinies.
Bibi Dong's thoughts surged like a tidal wave.
'Could commoners, with no prestigious bloodline or background, be cultivated into elite soul masters?'
'Could this method produce legions of high-potential cultivators where none had existed before?'
For a fleeting moment, she envisioned a new future—one where bloodline supremacy no longer dictated one's fate. A future where Spirit Hall could forge armies from scratch, based on discipline and method rather than chance and lineage. A future she could mold with her own hands.
Beside her, Hu Liena's voice broke through the silence—soft, but weighted with urgency. "Teacher… this Mysterious Heaven Skill…"
Bibi Dong didn't shift her gaze. Her voice remained calm, yet awe laced every word. "Nana, this is no mere technique. It's a treasure. A gift from another world, with the power to reshape ours."
She paused, a dangerous light gleaming in her eyes. "If it were within all my power, I'd have Tang San taken—captured, interrogated, dissected if needed. But that's impossible. Not while Tang Hao is watching over him. And not while the diary remains in shadows, known only to a few."
Hu Liena nodded solemnly. She understood the stakes. For all her authority as Pope, Bibi Dong's power had limits. The Elder Hall—and the true upper echelon of Spirit Hall—still obeyed Qian Daoliu. Most Titled Douluos pledged loyalty to him, not her. And her own strength had waned from the toll exacted by divine trials.
Bibi Dong couldn't afford a misstep. Not yet.
But even so, the fire of ambition burned undiminished within her.
'Even a sliver of the insights within this diary could be worth more than a dozen immortal herbs,' she mused. 'If I can harvest even a fragment of soul power with each entry… then in time, I won't just recover what I've lost. I will surpass it. Transcend it.'
All the while, across the continent, others holding copies of the diary leaned in closer, breath held in anticipation.
[At first glance, it might appear that Tang San's innate soul power had been greatly enhanced—reaching level 10. But a closer examination of the novel's timeline and key contextual clues paints a very different picture. When analyzed carefully, Tang San's actual cultivation speed falls noticeably short of what would be expected from someone with full innate soul power.]
[To begin with, it took him nearly three full years to reach Level 10—despite cultivating with the Mysterious Heaven Skill, a technique vastly superior to any native Douluo Continent meditation method. That alone speaks volumes. The first ten levels are widely regarded as the easiest and fastest to ascend, so this pace is surprisingly slow.]
[And it doesn't end there.]
[From the age of six to twelve, Tang San advanced from Level 10 to Level 29. That's a span of six years—averaging just about three levels per year. But even this modest rate becomes even less impressive when factoring in one key event: the backlog of energy he accumulated while stuck at the Level 10 bottleneck, unable to break through for lack of a soul ring. Once he finally obtained his first ring—from a four-hundred-year-old Mandala Snake—he jumped directly to Level 13, a gain of three levels in a single moment.]
[This implies that his true cultivation speed during that period was even slower—closer to an average of 2.5 levels per year.]
[Naturally, there are mitigating circumstances. Some people from my past life might argue that Tang San had to split his time between several demanding pursuits: working in the blacksmith shop, studying under Yu Xiaogang, and secretly honing the Tang Sect techniques he'd brought with him from the Murim World. These certainly consumed a portion of his time and energy.]
[Still, even when taking those factors into account, this pace remains unexpectedly slow for someone with full innate soul power.]
When the readers of the diary reached this passage, many were initially confused. Why would Tenshin claim Tang San's speed wasn't consistent with full innate soul power? But as they reviewed the timeline and statistics laid out in the entries, they found themselves reluctantly nodding. The numbers aligned with Tenshin's argument. His analysis, unsettling though it was, made sense.
And that wasn't the end of their unease.
Even more troubling was the implication that Tang San's natural cultivation talent might actually be mediocre. How could that be? How could someone born with not just one, but two powerful martial souls—a combination that should have guaranteed exceptional innate soul power—show such underwhelming progress?
The heroines shifted in their seats, having in account that innate soul power was tied directly to martial soul quality; then how did someone like Tang San underperform so significantly?
Something didn't add up.
Their eyes returned to the diary's pages with renewed urgency. Perhaps Tenshin wasn't done. Perhaps the next entry would unravel this contradiction.
[Although I can't provide a definitive explanation for Tang San's low cultivation aptitude, I believe there's a reasonable theory—especially considering he possesses two high-quality martial souls.]
[To understand this, we must first examine what actually determines innate soul power.]
[It's commonly accepted on the Douluo Continent that a stronger martial soul results in greater innate soul power. But this view overlooks another critical factor: the child's physical condition prior to their martial soul awakening.]
[Tang San's early life under Tang Hao was harsh. While I've previously noted the visible signs of neglect, there's more beneath the surface. If he hadn't transmigrated with the Mysterious Heaven Skill, it's likely he wouldn't have survived long enough for the martial soul awakening ceremony.]
[His nutrition and overall health during childhood were extremely lacking. In retrospect, without the support of the Mysterious Heaven Skill, his body might have been too weak to even awaken a martial soul—let alone twin martial souls, they would be out of the question.]
[One of the less obvious benefits of the Mysterious Heaven Skill is its effect on the body. Beyond cultivating qi, it strengthens the constitution—enhancing recovery and improving stamina.]
[This aspect is often overlooked in mainstream soul master society.]
[People focus on bloodline and martial soul quality, but few consider how crucial pre-awakening health is. A child born with a powerful martial soul may still awaken with low—or even no—innate soul power if malnourished or frail. Without enough energy or physical strength, the awakening process can be delayed, disrupted, or yield unstable results.]
[In more severe cases, the martial soul can mutate unpredictably or fail to awaken entirely.]
When the readers first came across the theory in the diary, it sent a shockwave through them. The notion that a child's nutrition before awakening could shape the strength—and even the fate—of their martial soul was revolutionary. Until then, the prevailing belief was that lineage alone determined a child's potential. Yes, some of the more powerful clans and sects had indulged their young with expensive medicinal baths or rare herbs, but these were seen as luxuries—minor enhancements to future growth, not critical factors in shaping a child's destiny. But now, this theory demanded attention, revealing a truth too significant to ignore.
And it wasn't just the theory about nutrition that stirred unease. What followed in the diary was even more unsettling: the Mysterious Heaven Skill. The idea that this technique could strengthen both the body and the soul was as intriguing as it was dangerous. It sparked a new kind of curiosity—a dangerous ambition. The more they learned, the more they realized how much was at stake, and the more they yearned to uncover the full power of this foreign cultivation method.
Across the continent, a stunned silence fell. The implications were too vast to ignore. For the first time, no one could claim that commoners' weak martial souls were simply the result of inferior bloodlines. The problem was no longer just fate—it was nourishment. The long-standing divide between the noble and common classes was no longer a question of destiny. It was a matter of diet. The tragedy of empty bowls, passed down through generations, had created a chasm that could no longer be overlooked.
As for Tang San's plight, most of the diary holders felt little sympathy. He was a distant figure to them, someone whose relevance was mostly academic. Their opinions of him were lukewarm at best. If anything, they wondered whether Tang Hao had truly intended to raise a son—or let one perish.
But not all of them remained indifferent.
Heaven Dou City, Moon Pavilion
Tang Yuehua stood at the threshold of her hall, diary clenched tightly to her chest. Her breath caught in her throat.
Her brother… had allowed this?
She had known Tang Hao's grief over Ah Yin had shattered something inside him. But this—this was neglect bordering on cruelty. Had he truly turned his back on his only son to this extent?
Her fingers trembled as she pressed the diary to her heart. Rage and sorrow tangled in her chest like storm clouds. And then—another thought crept in.
'From the way Tenshin wrote it… it almost seems like Tang San has had the memories of his past life since his birth…'
She paused, heart hammering. She had dismissed earlier hints as a stylistic quirk. But what if it wasn't just a literary device? What if Tang San had always remembered who he was—right from the moment of birth?
Spirit Hall
Within the high-vaulted sanctum of the Spirit Temple, Bibi Dong sat like a statue of war-gilded ice. Her fingertips tapped against the cold stone of her throne.
"Nutrition," she muttered, the syllables edged with realization.
This wasn't just an academic revelation—it was strategic. For centuries, Spirit Hall had attributed low innate soul power among commoners to flawed bloodlines. But what if it had been starving all along?
Her mind surged with implications.
How many potential powerhouses had slipped through their fingers because they were too hungry to awaken properly?
Even if half of Tenshin's theory proved true, the consequences were enormous. The orphan care system in Spirit City—and elsewhere—would have to be restructured. Silently, she began to plot the first quiet reforms, careful not to rouse suspicion from rivals within the Elder Hall.
In different places on the continent, Zhu Zhuqing and Ning Rongrong sat with their copies of the diary open before them, frowning.
A weight settled in their stomachs.
A new, anxious question formed, 'Would the weekly soul power increase rewards from Tenshin's diary retroactively increase my innate soul power upon awakening?' Or would they also be like Tang San?
They hoped—desperately—for the former.
And then the diary fell silent. No new entries appeared.
All of the women didn't know whether to feel frustrated by the pause or relieved to have time to process what they had just learned.
Nuoding Academy
The reason Tenshin had stopped writing in his diary was simple—what was unfolding before him was one of the iconic scenes in the Douluo Continent timeline. He slowly advanced, silently approaching Tang San and Yu Xiaogang as history played out.
After hearing Yu Xiaogang's name and learning he was a revered authority in soul theory, Tang San had clearly mulled things over. The decision did not come lightly, but once it was made, he did not hesitate. He dropped to his knees, his voice steady and sincere as he bowed three times—slow, deliberate, and filled with reverence. "Please accept me as your disciple!"
Yu Xiaogang's stern features softened, the weight of loneliness and decades of academic solitude cracking just enough to reveal joy. He reached down quickly, pulling Tang San up with a fatherly firmness. "Xiao San," he chided gently, though his voice held warmth, "never bow so easily. That kind of respect should be reserved for the heavens—and your parents."
Tang San met his gaze, steady and calm, and spoke with quiet resolve, "A teacher for a day is a father for life. It's only right that I bow to you."
Yu Xiaogang let out a hearty, almost disbelieving laugh. "Hahaha! Excellent! Truly excellent!" He hadn't heard the phrase before, but the weight behind it stirred something deep within him.
The moment hung there, bright and genuine—a fleeting oasis of emotion. But as the tide of excitement ebbed, Yu Xiaogang's attention shifted. His eyes landed on the other boy standing a few paces away: Tenshin Satoru.
Tenshin hadn't moved closer. He stood still, almost casual, but with an alertness that couldn't be dismissed. Yu Xiaogang's gaze lingered. Despite the child's martial soul being an obscure form of Chains and his innate soul power capping at only level seven. Tenshin had demonstrated exquisite control of his martial soul earlier that day. Even if he wasn't another Tang San.
With a thoughtful nod, Yu Xiaogang smiled. "Satoru Tenshin," he said kindly, "would you also like to become my disciple? I can help you grow—much stronger than you could alone."
Tang San said nothing. He didn't like Tenshin, that much was clear—but he wasn't reckless or immature enough to challenge his new teacher's judgment. He simply observed, his face unreadable, keeping his reservations to himself.
Tenshin didn't reply right away. He didn't even blink. From the outside, it might've looked like he was thinking deeply. But that wasn't it.
A soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Ding! You have witnessed a pivotal moment in the main timeline. A new function has been unlocked: Broadcast!]
[Everything captured by this function will be transcribed directly into the diary. Note: only 50% of the usual points will be awarded, but a rare special reward is possible. All rewards are distributed at midnight.]
Tenshin's lips twitched in a faint smirk. 'Finally,' he thought. 'No more scrambling to jot every detail down like some half-mad historian.' Without hesitation, he activated the feature.
Far from the scene,across the continent, crystal-clear images began to flicker across various diaries' pages:
[Rule 8: Any heroine who watches an entire live broadcast will receive either a random default reward or a rare special reward. The latter has an extremely low drop rate. All rewards are distributed at midnight.]
Anticipation surged. While the common rewards were small, they were guaranteed—and the faint glimmer of a rare prize had them glued to their screens.
And what they saw didn't disappoint.
The live feed opened with a vivid shot of Tenshin. The boy stood confidently, framed by soft sunlight. His snow-white hair, streaked with subtle threads of gold, shimmered like spun moonlight. His features were refined yet youthful—almost too perfect—and his eyes, swirling between deep sapphire and metallic silver with vertical pupils, lent him an otherworldly presence.
Next to Yu Xiaogang stood a much smaller boy—six years old, perhaps—with jet-black hair and a reserved, thoughtful expression. His posture and mannerisms gave him away: Tang San.
The contrast between them made the scene even more compelling.
Among the watching heroines, two in particular couldn't tear their eyes from the image of Yu Xiaogang.
Liu Erlong's hand clenched unconsciously over her chest. Bibi Dong's gaze darkened.
Their emotions were raw, heavy with years of unresolved pain. Liu Erlong's voice cracked through the silence, barely more than a whisper. "Xiaogang… it's really you. You look so tired…"
The words felt like both a reunion and a farewell, soaked in regret.
But for the rest, their focus was elsewhere. Tenshin's mysterious aura, poised presence, and striking appearance captivated them completely. His serene confidence was magnetic.
Then, Tenshin finally broke the silence.
He smiled faintly, the gesture courteous but unreadable. His voice was soft, curious, and edged with something sharper. "May I ask a basic question, Master? What is your current soul power level? Since your theories are so acclaimed, I imagine your strength must be extraordinary as well?"
Yu Xiaogang's smile froze.
He had anticipated admiration—maybe even awe. What he received instead was polite skepticism from a child with unsettling composure.
Liu Erlong and Bibi Dong immediately tensed, recognizing the subtle crack in his façade. They knew the truth, of course: Yu Xiaogang had been stuck at soul power level 29 for years, a bottleneck he had never broken.
Yu Xiaogang cleared his throat, struggling to maintain his composure. "Ah… I'm primarily a theorist," he said, forcing a light chuckle. "My cultivation level isn't high. I've devoted my life to research and scholarly pursuits."
Tang San blinked. His gaze faltered slightly, confusion creeping into his expression. A sliver of doubt began to form—small, but unmistakable.
Tenshin didn't press, not overtly. But the softness in his voice took on a firmer, more curious tone. "I see. But… if your strength is limited, how did you develop your theories? From what little I know—even without having attended any academy yet—true understanding often comes from direct combat and high-level cultivation."
He tilted his head slightly, still respectful but unyielding. "Or perhaps you come from a prestigious background? Do you have soul masters funding or supporting your work?"
Yu Xiaogang's expression went rigid. The boy's questions, though delivered with poise, were surgical in precision. Each one struck a nerve. For a man who had staked his identity on intellectual dominance, being questioned—cornered, even—by a six-year-old was nothing short of humiliating.
His silence spoke volumes. And across the screens, every heroine leaned closer, watching it all unfold.
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Author's Note
Writing entries that describe the experiences Tenshin has recently undergone is becoming repetitive. In many cases, these entries occupy most of a chapter—or even entire chapters. To remedy this, I added a new system feature that not only addresses the issue but also provides a consistent power-up for Tenshin, transforming the system beyond its previous state.
I realize that the excuse I initially offered may seem weak, but I felt it necessary to provide some justification. If anyone can suggest another plausible explanation, I'm all ears. And while I know this feature might be considered clichéd, it was the best idea I could come up with.