The days following the oath passed like a tide under moonlight—gentle but powerful, always moving. The bond between Shen Ling and Yin Shu became not just a matter of shared spirit but of practical rhythm. They trained together at dawn, meditated beside the ocean's edge at midday, and returned to the sanctuary of the Seven Douluo by nightfall.
But something was shifting.
The water itself reacted when Shen Ling stepped into it—never crashing against his legs but swirling, dancing, carrying his steps with a strange reverence. The spirits of Sea God Island had begun to whisper not only of his gift, but of his weight. He was no longer just a child of the sea. He was becoming part of its will.
Yin Shu noticed it first.
"You don't breathe like the rest of us," he said one morning. "You breathe in silence."
Shen Ling turned, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
Yin Shu pointed to the sea. "When I meditate, I listen to the waves. You become them."
Sea Fantasy Douluo led the training that morning. Her lessons were rarely about brute strength or elemental power. Instead, she focused on perception, presence, and spirit memory—the echoes of emotion left behind by ancient water.
Today, she stood on a smooth black rock in the middle of a tidepool, the water glowing faintly with bioluminescence.
"Spirit is not only in your soul rings," she said. "It is in your motion. In your memory. You must learn to walk as though every wave watches you."
She gestured to Shen Ling and Yin Shu.
"You two. Into the circle."
The tidepool surged upward in a shimmering dome, enclosing them in a bubble of rippling water.
Shen Ling stepped forward.
Instantly, the water shifted to accommodate him. Not resisting—guiding.
Yin Shu followed, but the sea did not yield to him as easily. It pushed back, testing, unsure of his intent.
"Let it carry you," Shen Ling murmured.
"I'm trying!" Yin Shu grunted, knees shaking under the pressure.
"No. Don't try.Listen."
Yin Shu closed his eyes, heart pounding. Then… slower. Smoother. He began to breathe in rhythm with the pulse of the sea.
The water stopped resisting.
It flowed.
Sea Fantasy Douluo smiled faintly.
"Good. Again."
As the day faded, Shen Ling walked alone to the edge of the Tide Pillar—an ancient spire carved with the history of Sea God's chosen. Bo Saixi was already there, sitting cross-legged at the top.
He joined her in silence.
"I don't understand," he said finally.
"What don't you understand?"
"Why me? Why did the sea choose me for this bond? Why give me this voice?"
Bo Saixi tilted her head toward the horizon. "The sea doesn't choose like mortals do. It doesn't weigh worth. It listens. It waits. And then… it remembers."
She placed a hand over his chest. "The ocean heard something in you. A call. A sorrow. A truth that had no voice—until you gave it one."
Shen Ling's throat tightened. "But what if I can't carry it?"
She smiled gently. "Then the sea will carry you."
Training under the tides of Sea God Island changed after the oath. Shen Ling was no longer just a student; he was becoming an anchor—an echo of the sea's own will. And Yin Shu, now bound to him, was evolving at a startling pace. The Seven Douluo watched quietly from the shadows, never interfering, but always listening.
Sea Dragon Douluo was the first to call them.
The old warrior stood at the edge of the Seaborne Arena—a half-submerged coliseum carved into the cliffside, filled with seawater that roared like a living beast. It was used rarely, reserved for challenges of weight and soul, not just skill.
"Step into the current," he said.
No fanfare. No elaborate speeches.
Yin Shu hesitated, but Shen Ling walked calmly to the edge.
Sea Dragon Douluo extended his spear. "Strike it."
Shen Ling blinked. "What?"
"You heard me. Show me the heart of your voice."
Shen Ling inhaled. The soul ring of the Siren flickered behind him. His voice emerged—not a shout, not a song, but a note—pure and deep.
First Soul Skill: Siren Echo.
The water beneath them trembled. The air distorted, rippling as if cut by invisible threads. The tip of Sea Dragon Douluo's spear quivered.
He frowned. "Again."
Shen Ling exhaled slowly, then sang—not aloud, but inward.
Second Soul Skill: Soul Lure Mirage.
The arena shifted. Sea Dragon Douluo blinked as dozens of Shen Lings appeared, each one shimmering with refracted water-light, all whispering versions of the same truth: I am the tide that binds.
Sea Dragon Douluo stepped forward, blade humming.
Without warning, he attacked.
Water surged upward, spears of it forming from the ground. Shen Ling reacted instinctively, raising a wave with his palm. But it wasn't just water—it was guided.
Voice of the Abyss (Innate Skill).
The wave didn't crash; it spoke, and Sea Dragon Douluo froze mid-strike. He faltered, eyes wide. Not because of the force—there wasn't any. But because the voice had reached inside him.
"…He sings through my silence," the Douluo whispered.
The illusions vanished. Silence returned.
Sea Dragon Douluo lowered his spear.
"You have surpassed instinct. You now command memory."
That night, Shen Ling and Yin Shu were summoned by Sea Ghost Douluo to the cavern of echoes, a place where spirits came to rest and where few had permission to enter. Yin Shu hesitated at the entrance.
"This place… feels like a grave."
"It is," Sea Ghost said. "But also a cradle."
They walked deeper, lit only by glowing sea fungus and drifting wisps of soul fragments—barely visible, like sparks.
Sea Ghost stopped. "You must understand what you carry."
He turned to Shen Ling. "The Siren is not a predator of song. It is a vessel. It absorbs what it hears, but cannot forget. If you fill it with grief, it will echo that grief back at you. If you fill it with rage, it will drown you in it."
Shen Ling nodded slowly. "And if I fill it with hope?"
Sea Ghost tilted his head. "Then it may become something the world has never heard before."
He walked away, leaving them alone with the drifting spirits.
Yin Shu whispered, "Do you ever wonder what we're becoming?"
Shen Ling didn't answer right away.
Instead, he reached out, touched the surface of the echo pool.
A memory emerged—not his, not Yin Shu's, but something older. A drowned warrior. A forgotten lullaby. A prayer offered to a god who never answered.
But now Shen Ling was the answer.
"…We're becoming what the sea remembers," he said finally. "And what it needs to remember next."
As the two turned to leave, Sea Fantasy Douluo appeared at the entrance, holding a dark sea crystal that shimmered with violet and midnight hues.
"Before you go, Shen Ling," she said. "Your third soul ring… the one from the Abyss Wraith. It has awakened."
Shen Ling's breath caught.
She stepped forward, placing the crystal into his palm. At its touch, a haunting harmony resounded—not loud, but ancient.
Third Soul Skill: Song of the Abyssal Trial.
This ability summoned echoes of those who had been tested by the sea and lost. Spectral phantoms with remnants of their strength and sorrow emerged, circling Shen Ling like a mournful choir. The Song invoked fear, memory, and pressure in opponents, forcing them to relive their greatest regrets and doubts, weakening their resolve and destabilizing their spirit.
Sea Fantasy Douluo's gaze was distant. "Be careful with this one. The Song tests all who hear it—including you."
Shen Ling bowed solemnly. "I'll bear it."
Yin Shu placed a hand on his shoulder. "And if it overwhelms you, I'll sing with you."
The sea that cradled Sea God Island lay unusually still at dawn. A silver-blue veil hung over the surface, not quite mist, not quite spirit. As the light slowly crept across the waves, one might have thought the ocean was holding its breath.
In the silence, Shen Ling stood alone.
The trial of the Abyss Wraith had changed more than his soul ring. It changed the weight in his gaze. It changed the quiet in his steps. The third ring now pulsed at his back—a solemn, shadowy hue distinct from the ocean's calm, yet deeply part of it.
He inhaled, not air but rhythm.
And then he sang.
It was not music in the traditional sense. There were no words, no melody to follow. Only a resonance that moved through the water like grief through memory. The ocean replied in stillness, then in sound. Whispers curled up from the deep, faint voices of those lost to time but not to the sea.
Third Soul Skill: Song of the Abyssal Trial.
Around Shen Ling, the phantoms of the fallen rose.
Not full spirits—echoes. Some were warriors, others only children, and a few indistinct, like fog in motion. They did not attack. They mourned. And yet, their presence bore a crushing weight, as if their lives still ached for meaning.
From the cliffs above, the Seven Douluo watched in silence.
Sea Star Douluo broke it first. "I've never seen a spirit ring manifest like that. It isn't rage. It isn't pride. It's… mourning."
Sea Woman Douluo narrowed her eyes. "It pulls at the soul. As if you're being asked to remember something you never lived."
Sea Spear Douluo's knuckles tightened around the shaft of his weapon. "That's no ordinary third skill. That's a reckoning."
Bo Saixi arrived without a sound. Her robes fluttered in the sea wind, and her gaze fixed on Shen Ling.
"He sings with sorrow," she said. "But not for himself. The sea chose him because it needed someone who listens."
In the arena, Shen Ling remained kneeling, the echoes circling him gently. Yin Shu stood nearby, arms crossed tightly across his chest, feeling the pressure from the phantoms' lament.
"Can you turn it off?" he asked.
"I can't," Shen Ling whispered. "They're not attacking. They're remembering."
"Then remember with them," came Sea Ghost Douluo's voice, as he descended into the arena.
He walked through the illusions, unflinching. The wraiths parted for him. One small spirit-child even reached out, brushing against the Douluo's hand.
"She's looking for her name," he said.
Shen Ling's brows knit together. "What?"
Sea Ghost looked over his shoulder. "This is no combat technique. It's a burden. And a key. Their regrets are not curses—they are maps. The sea never forgets those it lost. Through you, it remembers where they fell."
"And what am I supposed to do with that?"
"You decide. Will you carry them? Or will you sing them to rest?"
Shen Ling stared at the phantom child, her empty eyes glistening like tears made of salt. Slowly, he began to hum again. This time, softer. Gentler. A lullaby without words. A farewell.
The girl began to fade.
So did the others.
One by one, until only silence remained.
Yin Shu approached. "That wasn't just a skill. That was a funeral."
Shen Ling nodded. "And I think… it won't be the last."
At the Seaborne Hall, the Seven Douluo and Bo Saixi gathered around the stone table.
"He's changing faster than we imagined," Sea Dragon Douluo said. "Spiritually, emotionally… The Siren wasn't just compatible. It was waiting for him."
Sea Fantasy Douluo nodded. "The next ring must match that burden. If not, it might break him."
Bo Saixi remained silent for a long time before speaking.
"We don't guide him anymore. We accompany him."
The others looked up.
Bo Saixi's eyes were firm. "The Sea remembers him. Now, the world must learn why."