Huo Yuhao from The Peerless Tang Sect is incredibly talented.

As Huo Yuhao took action, he used his extraordinary wisdom as a signal tower to enlighten Wang Dong and Xiao Xiao, whose consciousnesses sank into the depths of the spiritual sea.

Meanwhile, the soul power within their bodies was unconsciously circulating, nourishing their physical forms.

"here it is?"

Xiao Xiao was a little curious about where this place was.

This is precisely the era recorded by the Martial Soul, an era yet to be documented in history.

The era when the Dragon God went mad.

The sky was torn apart, and the gods were thrown into chaos. As the gods clashed, Douluo Star was left devastated, its mountains and rivers shattered, and humanity struggled to survive.

The sky was ablaze with fire, and there was an even stronger, indescribable smell—as if the whole world was being roasted over a fire.

That was the wailing of the most precious beings on Douluo Star.

Xiao Xiao stood on a patch of scorched earth, the ground beneath her feet cracked into a spiderweb pattern, with wisps of smoke rising from the fissures.

At the same time, earthquakes occurred, the ground shook violently, and the earth would open cracks from time to time, which would close after swallowing lives.

People were running. Many people. There were Soul Masters, civilians, elderly people carrying children, and young people carrying the wounded.

A meteorite larger than a house crashed down, and a Soul Master raised a shield to protect the crowd on the ground. Xiao Xiao saw the shield light up for a moment, then shatter, and then the man disappeared. Only a charred crater remained in his place.

"No—" she tried to shout, but her voice was swallowed up by an even louder roar.

Xiao Xiao suddenly closed her eyes.

When I opened my eyes again, the scene before me had changed.

The gods began to fight each other, and countless calamities fell from the sky, sometimes a fireball, sometimes a sword beam, and sometimes a bone.

But without exception, they fell from the sky with an overwhelming force.

Xiao Xiao looked up and vaguely saw something fighting in the sky.

That is God.

The gods are at war, and even in the aftermath, countless mortals have died.

Xiao Xiao wanted to do something, but found that she was just a passerby and had no way of touching anything here.

Xiao Xiao saw it all; she saw the struggles of countless ordinary people.

There was a migrating caravan, densely packed, stretching for dozens of miles, with no end in sight. The caravan included horse-drawn carts, stretchers, infants in swaddling clothes, and elderly people with white hair. The same expression was written on everyone's face.

It wasn't fear, it was hope. It was the humble hope that if we just went a little further, we could survive.

An object from outer space attacked them, and an old man intervened, while the people in the group prayed for him.

The old man died, but the team survived.

Xiao Xiao's heart clenched suddenly, because the old man's martial spirit was also a cauldron.

At the moment the old man died, Xiao Xiao vaguely heard a sentence.

As a god of the state, I should die for the state.

Before divine might, the old man was like an insect, a mantis trying to stop a chariot, courting his own death.

But the praying mantis that blocks the chariot will stop. Even if it only stops for a moment, that moment is enough for the swarm behind it to live one more day. And every person who lives one more day could become the next praying mantis to block the chariot.

One after another, they went on and on, their spirit never ceasing.

This is what the nation truly is. It's not a city, not a flag, not a slogan. It's generations of people filling the abyss of death with their flesh and blood, just so that future generations can breathe a little longer and live better.

The scene shifts again.

Xiao Xiao saw the sea.

It was not a gentle sea, but a raging one. Giant waves, like mountains, crashed against the land, one after another. A city struggled in the flood, its spires, walls, and streets swallowed up one by one.

A figure hovered above the city. The figure held a trident, was entirely golden, and had an indistinct face, but the oppressive aura emanating from him made the air tremble.

The first generation of Poseidon.

It was a nation with extremely advanced soul-guided technology. Their cities were filled with sophisticated soul-guided devices, towering buildings, and brightly lit streets. They once proudly proclaimed that the wisdom of mortals would eventually surpass that of the gods.

Then the sea god sent down a great flood.

Because they once opposed the Sea God, their civilization was interrupted, and only a few ancient soul tools remain on the Douluo Continent.

Xiao Xiao saw a Soul Master standing on the tallest tower in the city.

The man had white hair and held a staff in his hand. Behind him was a group of disciples, their young faces filled with fear.

"Teacher! We can't stop it! This is divine power! We can't possibly..."

"I know I can't stop it," the old soul master interrupted him, his tone so calm it didn't sound like he was facing death. "I didn't intend to stop it."

He raised his staff. A beam of light shot from the tip, not as an attack, but as a barrier. A thin layer, separating the flood from the city.

"teacher!"

"The time it takes for an incense stick to burn," the old soul master said. "I've calculated that within the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, we can evacuate some people."

"But you—"

"I am two hundred and thirty-seven years old this year." The old soul master did not turn around, his voice carrying an indescribable gentleness, "I've lived enough. You are still young. Go, live, and pass on civilization."

The flood swallowed the barrier, the tower, and the old man.

But some people still managed to escape from the city and passed on the flame of the soul tool.

Xiao Xiao's tears finally welled up and spilled out.

Xiao Xiao's tears dried and flowed again, flowed and dried again. In the end, she could no longer tell who she was crying for.

For the one who raised the shield? For the Great Cauldron Soul Master who sacrificed himself? For the old Soul Master who single-handedly fought against the Sea God? For those ancestors whose names she didn't even know?

Both are. Yet neither are entirely.

She was crying for the word "humanity".

These two words are so light, barely a matter of touching the lips. Yet they are also so heavy, heavy enough to crush the backs of countless generations and to erect countless nameless monuments.

Xiao Xiao understood what her martial spirit truly was: the cauldron symbolized suppression and protection, while Xiao symbolized harmony and balance.

"As a goddess of the state, I should die for the state." She softly repeated the words that echoed in her ears, then shook her head. "No. Not die for the state. Protect the state. Protect it until the very last moment, until it is no longer necessary to protect it."

The true meaning of martial spirit awakens.

As a result, Xiao Xiao's aura surged dramatically, reaching level 30 in one go.

Seeing this, Huo Yuhao nodded in satisfaction. Not bad, we've gained another comrade.

The Three Lives Soul-Suppressing Cauldron is inherently aligned with the nation, symbolizing the people's aspirations for a better future. The personality of the Three Lives Soul-Suppressing Cauldron's owner is inherently different from that of Tang San, a reactionary and anti-civilization element.

Wang Dong at the same time.

"Is this my spiritual sea?" she murmured.

The spiritual sea here is quite different, brighter and more expansive, like a vast, clear lake in an autumn field under a clear sky.

Wang Dong's spiritual sea is a sea of ​​flowers, but it also feels like his own spiritual sea.

Suddenly, a woman appeared and made eye contact with Wang Dong.

"Who are you?" Wang Dong's voice was tense.

The man slightly raised his chin, his tone indifferent as if stating a fact unrelated to himself: "That's a question I should be asking. Who are you, and why are you inside my body?"

Wang Dong's pupils suddenly contracted.

"Your body?" she repeated, her voice rising several decibels. "Are you kidding me? This is clearly my spiritual sea."

"Tang Wutong," the man said, uttering her name, "Daughter of the God King. The master of this Sea of ​​Spirit. Now, it is your turn to answer my questions."

Her gaze fell on Wang Dong like a knife.

"Who are you?"

"I am Wang Dong." Wang Dong gritted his teeth, enunciating each word clearly, "I am myself."

"Wang Dong?" Tang Wutong repeated the name, her tone carrying a subtle hint of sarcasm. "You mean, you're a mortal with no connection to the divine realm, yet you inexplicably appear in my spiritual sea as the daughter of a god-king, occupy my body, use my power, and still have the audacity to ask me who you are?"

"You're talking nonsense!" Wang Dong's voice shrilly. "This is clearly my spiritual sea! I have family in the Haotian Sect, and you call me an intruder? You're the intruder!"

"Oh?" Tang Wutong's tone grew even colder. "Then let me ask you, who are your biological parents?"

Wang Dong opened his mouth. Then he froze.

She couldn't say it. She had never met her biological parents, only occasionally heard her uncles mention them, and felt like an abandoned orphan.

Her biological parents ignored her completely. For so many years, she told herself it didn't matter, that her uncles treated her very well, and that it didn't matter who her biological parents were. But at this moment, facing Tang Wutong's gaze, she felt for the first time how pale those comforting words were.

"You've never met your biological parents, right?"

"shut up!"

Wang Dong erupted uncontrollably and began questioning Tang Wutong.

"Then why did you break into my body!"

The two spoke almost simultaneously, then froze at the same time.

They stared at each other like two cats with their fur standing on end, neither willing to back down an inch.

"Answer my questions first," Tang Wutong said coldly. "Who are you? How did you get in?"

"You're the one who should answer my question!" Wang Dong retorted. "Who are you? What gives you the right to claim this is your spiritual sea?"

"Because I've been sleeping here for over a decade."

"Because I've lived here for over ten years!"

"impossible."

"How is that impossible!"

Tensions were high. Like butterfly wings locked in a standoff, two forces of the same origin collided in the air, sparking shimmering light. Just as the conflict was about to escalate, a gentle voice drifted from the depths of the spiritual sea.

"Because you are sisters."

"Who's your sister!"

"Who's her sister!"

Two voices rang out simultaneously, both carrying the same denial and the same stubbornness.

Then they both froze.

This synchronization rate... is a bit too high. The sea of ​​flowers parted. A person walked out.

She looked exactly like them. Same height, same features, same hair and eye color.

Her features were softer than Tang Wutong's and more composed than Wang Dong's.

If Tang Wutong is an unattainable goddess, and Wang Dong is a tomboy on campus, then this person is—a person who has traveled a very long way, whose eyes are full of stories, yet remains gentle: Wang Dong'er.

She walked between the two of them, looked around, and suddenly smiled.

"I am not any of you." Her voice was soft, as if afraid of disturbing something, "but I know about you."

"Who are you?" Tang Wutong frowned.

"An observer from the future," Wang Dong'er said. "In a sense, I am a possibility between you. Of course—" she looked at Wang Dong, "I lean more towards her."

"What do you mean?" Tang Wutong's tone remained wary.

"What I mean is," Wang Dong'er looked at her, her gaze complex, "I've witnessed your story. Not on this timeline, but similar enough. Tang Wutong, Wang Dong, you're not intruder and host. Your relationship is more like that of identical twins."

"Impossible." Tang Wutong answered faster than Wang Dong, her voice firm and decisive. "I am an only child. There is only one daughter of a God-King in the God Realm."

"Is that so?" Wang Dong'er didn't refute, but calmly posed her first question, "Daughter of the God-King, your father, a God-King with two divine positions, can he really allow someone unrelated to him to enter the Sea of ​​Spirituality without being obliterated by the restrictions left by the God-King?"

Tang Wutong opened her mouth.

"Would the blessings left by your parents allow an outsider to possess your body?"

"Uh...maybe it's a misjudgment?" Tang Wutong was a little unsure. Her father was a God-King, how could he make such a mistake?

"A blessing from a god-king level could be misjudged? Don't forget you also have blessings from other gods."

Tang Wutong was speechless. As a new life born in the God Realm, she was pampered by all the gods.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call her the group's darling.

Wang Dong'er turned to Wang Dong.

"Wang Dong, why have you never met your biological parents? Why do your first and second uncles never mention anything about what happened before you were sent to the sect? Because there was never a 'before'. You were sent away right after you were born."

Wang Dong instinctively wanted to refute, but found herself equally speechless. The excuses she had used to convince herself—that her adoptive parents were good to her, so her biological parents were unimportant—collapsed at this moment.

A crack suddenly appeared in a corner of her heart that she had been deliberately ignoring, and countless questions that she had been suppressing welled up from the crack. She bit her lower lip and remained silent.

Wang Dong'er's voice was very soft, as if she were reciting an ancient poem: "Do you know what the fate of twins is?"

No one answered.

"Mirror twins, born of the same origin yet separated. The first thing you did upon entering this world was to separate." Wang Dong'er looked up at the sky above the sea of ​​flowers, where there was no sun or moon, only an eternal glimmer of light. "Your fate was sealed from the moment you separated—one slumbered, one grew; one waited, one rushed forth. And when they meet again..."

She paused.

"The path to godhood that the God-King left for you, the final step, is that whoever survives will inherit everything from the other, become one, and ascend to the throne of a god."

Tang Wutong froze on the spot, as if an invisible sword had pinned her spine. Her pupils slowly contracted, and her lips opened and closed.

"No," her voice squeezed out from deep in her throat, hoarse and unlike her own, "it's impossible."

Wang Dong'er's gaze cut through her silence like a knife.

"In the God-King family, the price of becoming a god is never just a matter for one person."

"I will never accept that!" Tang Wutong's voice finally returned, but it was sharp and unlike her usual self. "For a future I can't witness, we have to kill each other—that's so unfair. If such an arrangement exists, I will beg Father to change it. He must have a way. He can—"

Although Tang Wutong was spoiled, she was not bad at heart. In the God Realm, Tang Wutong had more time to run around and have fun.

"This is the will of your god-king father himself."

Tang Wutong's voice stopped abruptly, as if her vocal cords had been severed.

She looked at Wang Dong'er. Wang Dong'er looked at her too. There were only a few steps between them, but it felt like there was a life-or-death divide between them.

There was no mockery, no pity in Wang Dong'er's eyes. Only calm. That calm was more cruel than any accusation, because it meant that every word she spoke was true.

"Impossible." Tang Wutong took a step back. Her haughty demeanor finally cracked, like the first fissure spreading across ice. "You're lying. What proof do you have?"

Wang Dong'er did not answer. She simply stood there quietly, like a judge unwilling to deliver a verdict.

Then a scene appeared before Tang Wutong's eyes.

It wasn't something she actively recalled. It was something she was forcibly dragged out. It was as if someone had lifted the deepest slab of her memory, revealing a deliberately buried, rusty truth.

That was the last day in the realm of gods.

The sun was shining brightly. Her father stood before her, very tall. His hand rested on the top of her head, his palm warm. His voice was gentle, as gentle as a father lulling his daughter to sleep.

"Sweetie, you'll be fine after a nap."

She closed her eyes. Her eyelids felt heavier and heavier. It was quiet all around, except for her father's breathing and the sound of her mother walking in the distance.

She tried to open her eyes, but couldn't; she was too sleepy.

"And then, Father?" She heard her own voice, very soft, as if it came from a great distance.

"Then you will wake up." The father's voice flowed in the darkness like a gentle river. "After you wake up, you will have a perfect husband. He will dote on you in everything, because he owes you so much—"

The father paused for a moment.

"He will hold you, he will kiss you, and he will shield you from all swords and blades."

She wanted to ask something more, but darkness had already crept in. Her father's last words drifted into her ears, like water falling onto the surface.

"So, you should get some sleep."

The image disappeared.

Tang Wutong stood on the sea of ​​spirit, her whole body trembling.

She wanted to say this wasn't real. She wanted to say it was a memory fabricated by Wang Dong'er. She wanted to say her father wouldn't do such a thing.

I want to say...

She had so much to say, but couldn't utter a single word.

Facts speak louder than words; she couldn't fool herself.

In the original timeline, Wang Dong stole the account and his interpersonal relationships after he died.

She recognized the voice from her memory. Her father's tone, her mother's footsteps next door, and the weariness within her own body—the numbness left after her soul had been severed.

"So," she finally spoke, her voice barely audible, "you want me to accept this?"

Wang Dong'er shook her head.

"I just want you to know. How you choose to proceed after knowing the truth is your own business."

Tang Wutong turned to Wang Dong.

Wang Dong was also looking at her. This time, the hostility was gone. In its place was a strange feeling—like two strangers suddenly discovering that they shared the same blood. Strange, unfamiliar, repulsive, yet undeniable.

"You..." Wang Dong began, his voice slightly hoarse, "Was I about to curse at you just now?"

"...Yes." Tang Wutong paused, "You cursed."

Another silence followed.

"I heard you," Tang Wutong suddenly said.

"What?"

"Your heartbeat."

Wang Dong was stunned. Then she realized—she could hear Tang Wutong too. Not the kind of hearing with her ears, but a resonance from the depths of her soul, as if the rhythm of her heartbeats were completely aligned on a certain frequency.

Confused expressions appeared on both identical faces at the same time.

Wang Dong'er smiled as she watched this scene.

"Fool. You twins are connected, you can hear each other. You just have never tried."

"But," Wang Dong still frowned, pursed his lips, and lowered his voice, "you said we are destined to kill each other."

"I'm talking about the script the God King left for you," Wang Dong'er corrected, "not the play you have to act in."

Wang Dong'er thought to herself, "There's no infighting, only your one-sided death."

Tang Wutong raised her head.

"Are there other ways?"

"Of course. But that's not something you should be thinking about."

I suddenly felt like crying. But for some reason, I couldn't cry.

"I don't want to be a tool."

Her voice was muffled. Her light blue bangs covered her eyes.

"Wang Dong." Wang Dong'er's voice suddenly became very formal, as if she were reading a solemn testimony, "I will only say this once, so listen carefully."

Wang Dong raised his head.

"To love life is not to pretend that life is wonderful. To love life is to see how terrible life can be, and still love it."

"If you don't want to be a disposable tool, then read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles, and etch everything in the world into your eyes. Go see the mountains, go ford the rivers, go meet those who live with all their might, and get to know those names you've never met but are worth remembering."

"Then you'll find out—"

She reached out and touched Wang Dong's forehead with her index finger.

"You were never a tool. You just haven't had time to know yourself yet."

Wang Dong stared blankly at her.

Golden patterns appeared in the void, the seal left by the gods, now awakening. The wind grew stronger, and the golden light of the restriction surged from all directions, like an invisible hand closing, trying to push Tang Wutong's consciousness back into the abyss of slumber.

Tang Wutong's butterfly wings began to become transparent, and her figure swayed in the wind like a candle about to be blown out.

"It's time," Wang Dong'er said, without any surprise in her tone.

Tang Wutong bit her lower lip. She looked at Wang Dong for a long time.

"I still need to go and ask my father for an explanation." She finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Not to defend him. This matter needs to be addressed."

She knew her consciousness was being dragged back into that long darkness, and she didn't know how long she would sleep this time.

At the last moment, she turned her head and looked at Wang Dong.

"you--"

"What about me?"

"...It's nothing."

Wang Dong remained silent for a long time because he knew he wasn't an orphan, even though the truth was far more cruel.

When Tang Wutong recalled her last day in the God Realm, she also saw those memories.

You are just a tool.

Wang Dong raised his head, wiped his face, and glared at Wang Dong'er, who had a calm expression, with his red-rimmed eyes.

"How do you know so much?"

Wang Dong'er smiled, a smile with an indescribable meaning.

"Because I am you. After traveling a long way, I have become who I am today."

"You love life," Wang Dong'er said. "That's your true meaning."

Then her figure began to dissipate.

Watching the two leave, Wang Dong silently made up his mind that one day he must ascend to the realm of gods and ask that father what he thought of him!