Chapter 3 - Prodigal Son

🕊️ Spirit Hall – Inner Sanctum, High Altar Chamber

The towering obsidian doors of the High Altar creaked open, letting in a sliver of golden light — and with it, a lone figure cloaked in travel dust and sea wind silence.

He stepped forward — a messenger bearing the seal of the distant sea branches — chest heaving as if the weight of his message had carried him from the edge of the world.

He dropped to his knees. Forehead touched stone.

"To Your Holiness… and Honored Grand Worshippers…"

The chamber remained still — shaped like a crown cast in shadow and sun. Twelve seats formed a ring around the central dais, each one occupied by a figure robed in authority and old memory.

Above them all, unmoving, sat the Grand Worshipper.

Qian Daoliu.

Eyes closed. Back straight. As if carved from prayer and regret.

"Speak," came his voice — low, steady, and vast enough to silence the messenger's thoughts.

The man swallowed.

"A ship docked at Hanhai City. No banners. No house colors. But… there are stories. The people call him a healer. A guardian."

He hesitated.

"They say his ship is called The Ringless Bloom."

The Fifth Worshipper, Glowing Feather Douluo, stirred. A faint hum of recognition passed around the circle.

The Second,Golden Crocodile Douluo, leaned forward.

"The Ringless Bloom… That ship is legend. A ghost. It protects sea villages. Sinks pirate fleets. Frees chain gangs and defends the soul-less."

The Third, Azure Luan Douluo, frowned.

"Who leads it?"

The messenger shook his head. "He never gives his name. He wears no crest. But those he heals call him… 'Yusheng.'"

The name rang out like a bell in the cavernous chamber.

For a moment, even the spirit lamps along the chamber's edge seemed to dim — as if the room itself were holding its breath.

The Seventh Worshipper ,Jiang long(Falling Devil Douluo),blinked. "Yusheng…?"

He turned toward Daoliu.

"Who is he?"

The Grand Worshipper opened his eyes.

Time seemed to lean forward.

Daoliu stood, ancient robes whispering across stone.

He stepped down from the dais. For the first time in many years, he let something raw enter his voice.

"He is my son."

The words fell like a seal breaking.

Shock rippled through the chamber.

The Sixth Worshipper,Jiang Jun(Fifteen ton Douluo), stood. "Your… son? But I thought—"

Daoliu raised a hand, silencing all.

"Not Qian Xunji. Not the Pope you all knew."

"This one… was never meant for our altars or our wars."

He looked toward the unseen horizon — toward the sea.

"Yusheng was born beneath this roof, yes… but his spirit wandered from the beginning. He tended the sick when he was still a boy. He buried birds with prayers when no one watched."

"He left without rebellion. Without anger. He simply… walked away."

The Fourth Worshipper,Mighty Lion Douluo,'s voice was low. "And now he returns?"

Daoliu closed his eyes.

"No. He does not return to us."

"He returns to the world."

A silence held.

Then, the Second Worshipper,Golden Crocodile Douluo, asked, cautious: "Should we send an envoy? Invite him to Spirit City?"

The Grand Worshipper turned back toward his seat.

"If he comes," he said, "he will come not as a servant. Not as a soul master. And not as a son of Spirit Hall."

He sat once more.

"He will come as who he has chosen to become — a man who walks beside the weak, not above them."

A pause.

Then softly:

"And we will meet him with open hands… or not at all."

No one argued.

Because something old had shifted.

And far beyond Spirit Hall's walls, a name long buried was rising again — not with thunder, but with healing in its shadow:

Yusheng.