Douluo: Shadow Sovereign

(Mo Ling's P.O.V)

The moon hung high in the night sky, casting silver light over the quiet forest. My breath came out in slow, measured exhales as I sat cross-legged on a flat boulder, my hands resting on my knees. The cool night air carried the rustling of leaves and distant hoots of owls.

Tonight, I would push my training further.

After three months of intense practice, I had developed a rudimentary control over my shadow. But that was not enough. I wanted mastery. I wanted to make it an extension of myself, to wield it as easily as I moved my own limbs.

I closed my eyes and let my soul power flow. My shadow flickered, dark tendrils stretching out unnaturally across the stone surface. I focused, visualizing a shape—a clawed hand.

The shadow trembled and warped, its form unstable. I gritted my teeth and pushed more energy into it. The fingers took shape, but as soon as I tried to flex them, the whole thing crumbled into nothingness.

Frustration welled up inside me, but I forced it down. Getting angry wouldn't help.

Instead, I adjusted my approach. Instead of brute-forcing my will, I allowed my soul power to flow naturally, letting my shadow move as if it had a will of its own. Slowly, carefully, the tendrils reformed, shifting until they took the shape of fingers once more.

Sweat beaded on my forehead. I tried to curl them into a fist. The motion was slow, jerky, but it held.

A rush of exhilaration surged through me. I had done it—barely, but I had.

(Third Person P.O.V)

The morning sun cast a golden glow over the quiet village, its rays filtering through the thick canopy of trees. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, carrying the fresh scent of dew-drenched grass. Birds chirped melodiously, their songs blending with the distant murmur of a flowing stream.

On a small mountain overlooking the village, Mo Ling sat cross-legged on a flat rock, his eyes closed in deep meditation. His breaths were slow and steady, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. Wisps of soul power pulsed around him, flickering like shadows in the morning light. His martial soul stirred faintly, resonating with the tranquility of the environment.

Just as he was about to slip deeper into his meditative state, the familiar sound of footsteps approached. He opened his eyes to see his grandfather standing before him, a rolled-up parchment in his hand. The elderly man's expression was calm but held a certain weight of importance.

"Mo Ling," his grandfather called, his voice steady yet firm.

"What are you doing here, brat? Haven't I told you today is the day you need to leave the village to attend Nuoding Academy? Go and pack your things—we need to leave before noon," said his grandfather.

"I know, old man, and I already packed my things yesterday. I was just meditating to increase my soul power," replied Mo Ling with a smirk.

His grandfather let out a short huff before nodding approvingly. "Hmph, at least you're diligent. Come down soon. We have a long journey ahead."

Mo Ling watched as his grandfather turned and started making his way down the mountain path. He took a deep breath, casting one last glance at the familiar landscape before standing up. His time in the village had come to an end. Now, a new chapter awaited him at Nuoding Academy.

The journey to Nuoding Academy took nearly two hours, with Mo Ling and his grandfather traveling by horse-drawn cart along a dirt road winding through lush forests and rolling hills. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against the ground blended with the occasional rustle of wind in the trees.

As they rode, Mo Ling's grandfather began speaking, his voice steady yet filled with wisdom.

"Listen, brat. Once you step into Nuoding Academy, you'll be entering a world far beyond our little village. You might be talented, but talent alone won't get you far. You'll meet nobles, commoners, and even those born into great clans. Some will look down on you, others will see you as competition. Keep your head down when needed, but never let anyone trample over you."

Mo Ling nodded, absorbing every word. He had expected this—he knew the world outside his village wouldn't be simple.

"Spirit masters are divided into ranks. You're still a Spirit Scholar, the very first step. Your goal is to become a Spirit Master and beyond. To do that, you need to cultivate diligently and seek the right spirit rings. Remember, the age and type of spirit beast you absorb will determine your strength."

His grandfather continued, "You also need to understand that spirit rings come in different colors based on their age. The stronger the beast, the more powerful the ring. But be careful—choosing the wrong ring can harm your cultivation instead of helping it."

Mo Ling smirked. "I won't make mistakes, old man. I've already thought about my path."

His grandfather chuckled. "Hmph. Confidence is good, but arrogance will get you killed."

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence, with Mo Ling contemplating his grandfather's words. As they neared Nuoding City, the dirt path widened, and stone roads replaced the rough terrain. More travelers appeared, some on foot, others on horseback or in carriages, all heading toward the bustling city ahead.

Soon, the towering gates of Nuoding Academy came into view. The academy's walls were high, built of sturdy stone, and its emblem shone proudly on the grand entrance.

Mo Ling took a deep breath as the cart came to a stop. This was it. The beginning of a new chapter in his journey.

With determination burning in his eyes, he stepped forward toward the academy gates.