On the vast Wushentian Continent, in the Grant Family of Qingyun City, the air was tight with expectation. Today was the family’s most sacred day—the Martial Soul Awakening Ceremony. Only by awakening one’s Martial Soul could a warrior truly step onto the path of cultivation. For every young fighter, this moment was a gate they had to break through.

“Burton Grant, your turn.”

After one youth stepped down and another went up, the elder presiding over the ceremony finally called Burton’s name.

Burton walked forward at an unhurried pace. Behind him, the other boys and girls stared at him with open admiration. Their eyes followed him like he was already someone standing high above them.

Since childhood, Burton had shown frightening talent. He picked up martial arts at three, mastered blade and sword at six, and by ten he could wrestle a wild tiger into submission. At eleven, he defeated every young prodigy in Qingyun City. Among his peers, there was simply no rival left.

Once, a powerhouse who had reached the realm of Martial King heard of Burton’s feats. The man had nodded with rare approval and said, “This child’s future has no limits. The Martial Soul he awakens may even break past the Mystic Rank. Even at worst, it should be Yellow Rank Five or above.”The moment the Martial King spoke, his words swept through Qingyun City like wind through dry grass. Everyone knew the Grant Family’s young prodigy had a boundless future ahead of him. Rumors even claimed the next family head was already set—Burton Grant.

The ranks of Martial Souls ran from Heaven down to Earth, Black, and Yellow, each split into nine grades. The Grant Family’s best awakening so far was only a Yellow Six-grade. Yet people whispered that Burton might awaken a Black-ranked soul. That alone showed how much faith the family had placed on him. And Burton had never disappointed anyone growing up.

Burton caught the eager, flattering looks around him from the corner of his eye. A strange flicker passed through his gaze, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, unreadable grin.

“Master Burton,” a young clan member beside him said, trying hard to curry favor, “your Martial Soul this year will definitely rewrite the Grant Family’s history. A Yellow Six-grade? That’s nothing. With your talent, awakening a Black-ranked soul wouldn’t surprise anyone!”

His words set off a wave of agreement among the nearby Grant disciples.

“That’s right! Master Burton is the brightest genius our family has ever seen. A Black-ranked Martial Soul? For him, that should be easy!”Those young girls still in the bloom of youth kept casting soft, lingering looks at Burton Grant. They edged closer on purpose, brushing their graceful figures lightly against him. Their eyes shimmered with affection as they spoke in sweet, coaxing tones. “Young Master Burton, once you awaken a Mysterious‑rank Martial Soul, don’t forget us.”

Burton didn’t spare them a real glance. He had no patience for their hopeful stares, not even enough to say one extra word.

“All right, Burton, step up,” the elder on the stage called, waving him forward. Even he looked eager, as if he couldn’t wait to witness the birth of that once‑in‑a‑century Mysterious‑rank Martial Soul. If Burton truly awakened it, the Grant Family would gain a legendary genius, someone with a real chance of reaching the realm of Martial King.

Burton sprang onto the platform. His pale hand slowly pressed against the black sphere before him.

The moment his palm settled on the sphere, the whole crowd held their breath. They wanted to see it with their own eyes—the rise of a Mysterious‑rank Martial Soul.

A single ring of yellow light circled the sphere. A mist surged up around it, veiling everything in a murky haze. When the fog finally thinned, everyone stared wide‑eyed at the result etched on the sphere’s surface.

And then—silence. Shocked, speechless silence.

Because on the black sphere, there was only one yellow stripe.

Just one.

Yellow‑rank, First Grade.

The lowest of the low.The air froze on the spot, as if everyone forgot how to breathe. All eyes locked onto that lone figure standing on the high platform, his silhouette looking thinner than ever.

The elder in charge of announcing the results stared hard at the black sphere before Burton Grant, praying for just one more stripe to appear on its surface. But fate gave no such mercy.

A thin arc of blue lightning curled around Burton Grant’s wrist. The moment the lightning formed, his Martial Soul was set. Once a soul took shape, its rank would never change.

“Burton Grant… awakened Martial Soul: Flash Ryder. Rank… Yellow Grade, First Tier.”

The elder’s face turned ashen. Below the platform, the Grant family disciples all showed the same disappointment—some even looked embarrassed to witness it.

“Yellow Grade First Tier? That’s worse than mine! And he’s supposed to be our Grant family’s genius? Wakes up a trash-tier Martial Soul!” A sharp voice cut through the crowd. Mockery followed like a flood breaking loose.

“I actually expected something from him. Didn’t think it’d turn out to be this worthless. Burton Grant really outdid himself this time!”

“First genius of the Grant family? Dreaming of awakening a Mystic Grade Martial Soul? What a joke!”“Hey,” someone nudged the Grant youth who’d been flattering Burton Grant just moments ago, a crooked grin on his face. “Weren’t you the one bragging he’d make history? What’s this supposed to be now?”

The boy didn’t flinch. He raised his chin and said calmly, “Did I say anything wrong? Burton did make history—just the kind where he awakened the lowest‑grade Martial Soul our clan’s ever seen.”

Laughter burst out sharp and vicious.

Those girls who’d been giving Burton shy glances earlier now wore looks of pure disgust. None of them even bothered to meet his eyes. Their lips kept moving, tossing out the word “trash” again and again, each one like a dart digging into his ears.

But Burton’s expression didn’t crack. Not only did he stay composed, a faint ripple of relief even flickered in his eyes.

“All right, enough! Quiet!” a nearby elder snapped, his voice like a slap. “What kind of mess is this? Stop that noise!”

The crowd instantly went still. The elder shot Burton an annoyed glare. “Get down. Isn’t today shameful enough for you already?”

Burton leapt off the platform and landed among the crowd. No one dared laugh openly anymore, but every gaze that slid his way carried the same cold, cutting disdain.Burton Grant, son of the clan master, had always stood high above the rest. But after what happened today, that standing was bound to crumble. A Yellow Rank, Grade One martial soul—nothing but a stain on the Grant name.

“Damon Grant, your turn.”

The elder had barely spoken when a young man stepped out from the crowd, chin raised, every move dripping with confidence. He walked past Burton, paused just long enough to cast him a mocking glance, and spat out two cold words. “Useless trash.”

Burton lifted his eyes at him, calm and unreadable, then looked away without a word.

Damon reached the platform and set his hand on the black sphere. Five yellow lines flared to life across its surface.

“Yellow Rank, Grade Five!” The elder’s voice shook with both shock and delight. Around them, the Grant clan’s disciples stared wide‑eyed.

A blood‑red blade rose in Damon’s hand, its form solidifying as he tightened his grip. Holding the Blood King Blade, he stood tall and proud, looking down at the clan disciples as if he already ruled them.

“Damon Grant has awakened a Yellow Rank, Grade Five martial soul—the Blood King Blade!”

The elder’s face flushed with excitement. With Burton falling from the heavens, Damon rose like a blazing star, drawing every gaze in the hall.

“Damon is incredible! Far stronger than that useless showpiece!”“Damon Grant’s spirit… a Yellow Rank, Fifth Grade Blood King Blade. That’s fierce.”

“Yellow Rank Fifth Grade… looks like our next clan leader is set. No one in the Grant Clan can match Damon Grant now.”

“He hid deep, didn’t he? Way stronger than that so‑called genius who turned out to be trash.”

The Grant youths crowded around Damon Grant, eager to praise him, and every word lifting him up was followed by a jab at Burton Grant.

Even the pretty young girls of the clan leaned close to Damon Grant, voices soft and syrupy as they tried to win his attention.

Damon Grant gazed down at Burton Grant with open arrogance, a cold smirk tugging at his mouth. “See that? I’m the true genius of the Grant Clan. From now on, Burton, you’re nothing.”

Burton Grant gave him a calm, indifferent glance, said nothing, and simply walked away toward home.

Those scornful stares stabbed at his back, yet he didn’t show a hint of sorrow. His eyes stayed still, deep and unreadable, like a quiet well.

Back home, the flickering mass of lightning that symbolized his humiliation once again gathered in Burton Grant’s palm. His previously dull gaze suddenly burned with a fierce light.

“I’ve waited long enough. Today… it finally begins.”Burton Grant tightened his grip on the Flash Ryder spirit, eyes shutting as he felt its faint, crackling pulse. Slowly, his hand rose. At that moment, the Flash Ryder spirit flickered—thin threads of gold light breaking through the dim arcs of lightning.

Those gold sparks drifted free under his will, gathering bit by bit into a new shape.

Burton’s eyes snapped open. Staring at the scattered glow, he breathed out a single word, low and steady. “Condense.”

The light obeyed at once, pulling together, molding under his control until the outline of a dragon took form—majestic even in its infancy.

A tremor ran through him. Joy surged in his eyes, raw and unrestrained.

“At last… you’re here—my Peerless Spirit.”