### Chapter: Four Years of Fire and Silence
Four years passed like fleeting shadows beneath the eternal skies of Martial Soul City, yet for Su Chen, they left behind a trail of blood, fire, laughter, and secret warmth that reshaped his fate and soul.
Now standing on the edge of his fourteen year, Su Chen was no longer the boy who once clutched the edge of destiny with trembling hands. The childish softness of his face had sharpened into clear angles. His bluish-black hair fell past his shoulders, wind-kissed, and his crimson eyes—once filled with innocent fire—now glimmered with restrained power.
\*\* Soul Rank 48.\*\*
A number many at his age could only dream of. But more than that—it was how he reached there that mattered.
---
In the cold silence of the Spirit Hall's exclusive training yard, Su Chen held his signature weapon—the **Trident Martial Soul**—a gleaming dark-blue construct, heavy, sleek, and radiating killing intent. Not because of any soul skill.
No—Su Chen had mastered the *Trident Intent.*
It was like the legendary sword intent. But sharper. Wilder. Destructive.
In these four years, he had learned to kill a Soul Elder in five precise strikes, even without triggering a single ring. All through technique, speed, and **aura**. Soul masters whispered about him in secret halls:
> *"A devil with a food-type martial soul... and a war god's spear."*
He had also perfected his cooking-type soul abilities, which still bore the disguise of sweetness and innocence—an ability that disarmed enemies… just before he cut them down.
And then there was **Hu Liena**.
To the world, she was his senior sister, but rumors burned faster than dry wood in summer winds. Their camaraderie, their constant togetherness—it gave birth to talk.
> *"They act like lovers. Isn't the Saintess too close to him?"*
Su Chen didn't deny it. Nor did he confirm it. It was a blurry line he tread carefully.
Until he had to explain himself… to **Bibi Dong**.
---
That day still hung like dew on his soul.
He had walked into her chambers. She was reading scrolls, regal and unreadable.
> "...So, the Saintess and you, hmm?" she said without looking.
He had swallowed hard.
> "There's nothing... that crosses the line."
> "But you're looking at her," she said sharply. "While eating from *my* bowl."
Her words struck deep, and he had dropped to one knee—not to beg, but to reach for her hand.
> "You are the first. And you will always be the *first.*"
Under his coaxing, his honesty, and a kiss under lamplight—she finally smiled.
> "Then promise me, Su Chen. No matter how many you gather... I will be your *first wife.*"
He promised.
With lips, eyes, and soul.
---
Their trip for the fourth soul ring was more than a hunt. It was a secret honeymoon—seven days of warmth and passion in the wilderness, far from Spirit Hall's cold discipline.
They lived like man and wife—tender mornings, teasing evenings, and long conversations beneath starlit skies.
She told him about her past.
He told her about the world he remembered.
They returned after three months, having found a 10,000-year spirit beast that gave Su Chen a powerful new skill—a wide-range domain that corroded enemy souls with each breath.
When **Hu Liena** asked for her own soul ring hunt, Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed at Su Chen. He could read it in a heartbeat:
> *"Don't you dare cross the line."*
He didn't. But he didn't stop **Hu Liena** from acting like his little lover, either.
Another seven days in the forest.
Another flame sparked—but not yet set aflame.
---
2 and half years rolled by like seasons passing a quiet village..
Most days were training. Others were filled with secret meetings with Bibi Dong. And some, carefully arranged, with Hu Liena.
But Su Chen never crossed the line—because the line was clear. He was waiting.
Waiting for the promise he made for at fourteen.
Now, he stood at the edge of thirteenth. One year remained before he would set out alone into the world, to forge his path and make his legend. One year left to spend with her… before he returned with answers, revenge, and perhaps...
...everything he needed to change fate itself.
He had saved thousands of **Fate Destroyer Points (FDP)**, waiting to buy the mysterious forbidden techniques he'd bookmarked long ago—some for body refinement, others... more indulgent.
He chuckled at the thought.
> "Heh… one more year. Then the real game begins."
Just like that, four years passed—not in idle peace, but in deliberate pacing.
Su Chen had not raced toward strength like typical system protagonists.
He built **foundations.**
He mastered **intent.**
He won **hearts.**
And now\...
He was almost ready to shake the entire Douluo Continent.
> "Just wait, world," he whispered, looking out from the training courtyard. "The destroyer of fate is coming."
---
Night draped Spirit Hall in silence, but one melody softly echoed through the air.
In a secluded bathing chamber, a boy was relaxing in a wooden tub, warm steam rising around his lean frame. He was singing—not loudly, but with a gentle, melodic hum that carried emotion far deeper than the lyrics. His voice was rich, almost hypnotic, and his eyes held a soft glow.
This boy was none other than Su Chen.
The flickering candlelight reflected off his sculpted jawline and the sharp features of his maturing face. He had grown tall over the years, his body well-toned from constant training, his once-innocent gaze now replaced by quiet confidence and depth.
And tonight, he was in an exceptionally good mood.
> "Tomorrow..." he murmured to himself with a small smile.
Tomorrow was his fourteenth birthday.
But more importantly—it was the day of his promise.
He didn't need to say it aloud. His heart already knew what it meant. A step forward. A threshold crossed. A bond finally sealed.
After drying off, Su Chen dressed and walked back to his room, humming quietly.
Beneath the moonlight, he smiled once more… then slipped into bed and closed his eyes.
> "Tomorrow… everything changes."
Morning broke with a soft golden hue painting the windows. A gentle knock echoed on the door of Su Chen's room. But before anyone could respond, the door opened slowly—just recently unlocked by Su Chen himself.
Standing there was a vision of elegance and maturity.
Bibi Dong, dressed in a delicate light-purple gown that clung softly to her graceful form, stepped into the room. In her hands were two gifts: one, a carefully folded robe—a handwoven garment she had crafted slowly over the past four years with threads of care and memory; and the other, two bluish bracelets, shimmering faintly with a hidden spatial energy embedded within them.
She placed both gifts on the edge of the bed, her movements quiet, almost reverent.
Without a word, she stepped closer… and embraced him.
> "Happy birthday," she whispered softly near his ear.
Su Chen's arms slowly wrapped around her back, holding her close, warmth spreading through his chest.
Then, without hesitation, she kissed him—not a brief gesture of affection, but a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips moved against his with long-held desire, as though pouring years of buried emotion into that single act.
Time seemed to stop.
Only when their breath grew short—when the moment threatened to consume them—did they pull apart, gasping lightly, eyes locked in silence.
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