"Perfect... absolutely perfect!"
The voice boomed through the grand hall, vibrating with a mix of pride and raw ambition. Qiangu Dongfeng, the formidable Master of the Spirit Pagoda, couldn't take his eyes off the young boy standing before him.
"Innately Full Soul Power! My grandson, Zhangting, you carry the blood of a Limit Douluo!"
The boy in question, Qiangu Zhangting, stood unnaturally still. To the onlookers, he looked like a prodigy overwhelmed by his own potential. In reality, he was a soul from another world, trapped in a timeline he knew was destined for a bloody end.
For six years, he had waited for this moment—the awakening of the Coiling Dragon Rod. As the golden light of the inheritance spirit surged through his veins, the raw, explosive power of the Tool Spirit confirmed his identity. He was now a top-tier noble of the Douluo Continent, backed by a family of monsters: a Quasi-God great-grandfather and two Demi-Gods.
Three Limit Douluos in one clan, Zhangting thought, his eyes darkening. And yet, in the original story, we were nothing but stepping stones. Clowns played by the 'love-brained' Silver Dragon King until we went mad and died in anonymity.
He wasn't going to let that happen. Not this time.
"Grandfather," Zhangting said, his voice calm, masking the storm of calculations running through his mind. He knew the greatest threat wasn't just Shrek Academy—it was his own family's obsession. The Shrek bombing incident was a ticking time bomb, and his grandfather's burning hatred for the Academy was the fuse.
If I can't stop the obsession, I have to outshine it, he decided. I have to become so powerful, so indispensable, that the Spirit Pagoda bends to my will before they walk into their own grave.
"Zhangting," Dongfeng leaned in, his gaze intense. "You have always been sharper than the others. Tell me, have you chosen your first Soul Spirit? The family tradition dictates the Evil-Breaking Dragon—it's the perfect match for our bloodline. By level thirty, you'll be unstoppable."
They walked through the heavy, reinforced doors of the Thousand-Year Purple-Grade Treasury. Row after row of glowing spirit tools held ancient, flickering essences. This wasn't the public archive; this was the private hoard of the Qiangu main line.
"The Evil-Breaking Dragon is the safe choice, Grandfather," Zhangting replied, his fingers trailing near a restrictive seal. The cold metal felt like a reminder of the cage his destiny was supposed to be.
He turned to face the old man, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips. "But I didn't come here to be 'normal.' I didn't come here to follow the path of those who failed before me."
The air in the room seemed to chill. Zhangting knew that to change the era, he couldn't just be a Dragon Knight. He had to be the Illusionary Knight—the one who controls the board while everyone else thinks they're winning.
"I've made my choice," Zhangting's voice was a low, firm blade. "And it will be the first step in ensuring the Qiangu name never bows to Shrek again."