The torrent of energy subsided, leaving a profound and solid warmth in its wake. Yao Xuan's heightened senses slowly returned to normal, the invisible, nine-colored luminescence fading from his aura.
'A significant improvement,' he assessed internally, a quiet thrill coursing through him. His fist clenched unconsciously under the desk, and he felt the new power coiling within his muscles—a raw strength he estimated had increased by nearly eighty kilograms, bringing him to a staggering 230 kilograms. He was now physically stronger than two grown men combined. 'But the path ahead is steeper. The next 0.1% will cost three points. The easy gains are over.' He felt no arrogance, only a sharpened focus. The quest for Golden Evolution Points would now require greater strategy and effort.
"Brother Xuan," Tang Wulin's voice, laced with open curiosity, broke through his thoughts as the class ended. "What were you doing just now? For a moment, I could have sworn you were... glowing."
Yao Xuan's internal calm didn't flicker. 'The Golden Dragon King bloodline is sensing the awakening of its progenitor,' he realized. He kept his expression one of mild puzzlement. "Glowing? Don't be silly, Wulin. How could I be glowing? You must have been staring at the blackboard too long."
"Uh... yeah, maybe," Tang Wulin scratched his head, a little embarrassed but not entirely convinced. The feeling had been so vivid, so comforting. "Must have been my imagination." He shrugged and headed back to his seat, the strange, warm impression lingering in the back of his mind.
The morning passed uneventfully. When the bell signaling the lunch break finally chimed, Yao Xuan gathered his things and headed home. As he approached the apartment door, it swung open before he could reach for his key.
"Brother Yao Xuan! You're back!"
Na'er stood there, her usual quiet demeanor replaced by visible excitement. But then she did something unusual. She leaned forward, her small nose twitching as she inhaled deeply. Her amethyst eyes widened.
"Wow! Brother Yao Xuan," she exclaimed, her voice filled with innocent wonder, "you smell so good today!"
Yao Xuan stopped short. 'She can sense it too,' he thought, understanding dawning. The connection was deeper than he had imagined. Na'er's Silver Dragon King bloodline was a direct, albeit distant, descendant of the Ancestral Dragon. His own bloodline's growth was like a beacon, resonating with the very core of her being. Her inexplicable attachment to him wasn't just emotional; it was primal, written into her very soul.
"I smell good?" he asked, playing along with a gentle smile.
"Yes!" Na'er affirmed, nodding vigorously. She took a half-step closer, her small form tilting toward him as if drawn by an invisible force. "A very special scent. It's... warm. And safe. It smells really, really nice." She said it with the absolute certainty of a child stating that the sky is blue.
A profound sense of connection and responsibility washed over him. Her purity and directness disarmed him completely. "Well, I'm very happy that Na'er likes it," he said, his voice soft. He reached out and took her hand. "Now, let's not keep Mom waiting. I'm starving."
The scene was one of domestic bliss. The three of them sat around the table, the conversation light, the food simple but nourishing. In that moment, the grand schemes of systems and bloodlines faded, replaced by the simple, powerful warmth of a family meal.
***
Time flowed like a steady river, and half a year slipped by.
For Yao Xuan, life settled into a productive and disciplined rhythm. His mornings were for academic studies, which his enhanced mind handled with ease. Every afternoon, without fail, he would go to Mangtian Studio. The air there, thick with heat and the ring of hammer on metal, had become a second home. Evenings were dedicated to meditation, the silent cultivation of his soul power a non-negotiable pillar of his growth. On weekends, Lin Ximeng would take him and Na'er on outings—to parks, to markets—weaving ordinary, joyful memories into the tapestry of their extraordinary lives.
His progress was methodical and impressive. Two months into the school year, he became the first in his class to break through to Level 6 Soul Warrior. The breakthrough was a quiet affair, marked by a sudden expansion within his dantian and a clearer, sharper perception of the world. After reaching Level 6, his meditation efficiency improved, the daily trickle of Evolution Points increasing by nearly half. However, the reservoir of soul power required for each subsequent level had also deepened significantly. It took another eighty days of diligent work before he felt the familiar surge, breaking through to Level 7. Now, he was steadily working his way through that level, about thirty percent of the way to Level 8. It was a slow, steady climb, but he was patient.
His mental power, honed by daily meditation, had also grown steadily from 45 to 58 points, hovering on the precipice of the late stage of the Spirit Origin Realm.
His progress in forging was perhaps the most visually dramatic. The first three months at the studio were a trial of pure endurance. His daily task was to hammer raw iron blocks—three thousand strikes a day. It was a monotonous, grueling process designed to build muscle memory and perfect his form. As his body adapted, Mang Tian increased the challenge, gradually replacing his five-kilogram hammers with ten-kilogram, and finally, twenty-five-kilogram versions. Yao Xuan welcomed the increased weight; each heavier hammer was a better tool to temper his body and force the absorption of dormant Ancestral Dragon power.
After three months of this foundational training, Mang Tian finally deemed him ready. He was allowed to begin simple metal refining—the first true step of a blacksmith. Every Saturday, Mang Tian would personally instruct Yao Xuan and Tang Wulin, his voice a low rumble as he demonstrated the subtle art of "listening" to the metal. With his superior physique and [Enhanced Comprehension], Yao Xuan's progress was rapid. In his fifth month, he successfully completed his first hundred refinements—a milestone that signified a basic mastery over the fundamental process.
Even the notoriously hard-to-please Mang Tian was moved to praise. "Not bad, boy. Not bad at all," he had grunted, a rare glint of approval in his eyes. For a level-six master, a hundred refinements was child's play, but for a six-year-old with less than five months of training, it was nothing short of prodigious. Mang Tian felt a deep-seated conviction that he had not just found one, but two disciples who could potentially surpass him.
Finally, there was the evolution of his bloodline. As anticipated, the flood of Golden Evolution Points had slowed to a trickle. In six months, he had accumulated thirty-one points: three from cultivation, eleven harvested from his continued guidance and shared struggles with Tang Wulin, four from small, precious moments of increased favor with Na'er, ten from completing the first stage of his forging side-quest, and three from other minor events.
He invested every single one into his Ancestral Dragon Bloodline, pushing its concentration to 3%. Combined with the constant physical tempering of forging, his strength had soared to nearly 350 kilograms. He was no longer just a strong child; he was a physical marvel, his body a vessel being steadily filled with the power of a primordial legacy. And with each percentage point, the invisible, comforting scent that Na'er loved so much grew just a little bit stronger, deepening the bond that was his greatest treasure and his most powerful weapon.