Chapter 3: Creating One’s Own Path

Before the words had even fallen, a fist-sized stone shot through the air with a piercing whistle, aiming straight for Bai Chenxiang’s face.

The strike was swift and fierce—far beyond what an ordinary child could react to.

Yet Bai Chenxiang seemed to have eyes on her back. With only a slight tilt of her small body, the stone brushed past her hair and slammed heavily against a distant rock wall, sending a spray of stone fragments flying.

“Not bad,” Bai He remarked approvingly, though his hands did not cease their movements.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Three stones flew out in a pinwheel formation, cutting off all of Bai Chenxiang’s escape routes.

This was the seasoned intuition of a Soul Combatant, predicting the opponent’s predictions.

But Bai Chenxiang’s choice exceeded his expectations.

She neither dodged left nor right, nor did she retreat. Instead, just before the stones reached her, she lunged forward, her entire body sliding almost flat along the ground.

The three stones whizzed past her back by mere millimeters, the rush of wind they stirred making her clothes flutter wildly.

Her slide didn’t stop. She planted her hands on the rocky ground strewn with debris, flexed her waist, and executed a graceful roll to dissipate the momentum.

Then she crouched steadily behind a half-human-tall boulder, revealing only a pair of bright, alert eyes that carefully watched her grandfather’s next move.

The entire sequence flowed smoothly, without a single superfluous motion.

Bai He twitched at the corner of his eye. This girl was simply a born dodge prodigy.

Ordinary children couldn’t even attempt such moves; the calm composure she displayed in the face of danger alone was enough to leave one in awe.

“Interesting. Let’s try this!” Bai He’s interest was piqued. No longer merely throwing stones, his arm trembled slightly as he tossed one that traced a strange curve through the air, aiming to circle behind the rock where Bai Chenxiang hid.

Her ears twitched faintly. She heard it.

Not with her eyes, but with her ears—listening to the subtle difference in sound caused by the stone slicing through the air as it spun.

She didn’t move.

Just as the stone was about to strike her back, she sprang sideways like a startled raccoon dog, her body twisting mid-air at an impossible angle, narrowly evading the cunning “curveball.”

“You!” Bai He was genuinely shocked this time.

This move was a trick he had used in his youth to toy with his peers, relying on wrist dexterity. Even ordinary Soul Emperors found it difficult to predict its trajectory. And yet, a six-year-old child had just dodged it?

“Grandpa, the wind has a voice,” Bai Chenxiang said calmly as she straightened up and dusted herself off.

“Objects flying at high speed disturb the airflow. The wind tells me their trajectory.”

“The wind tells you...” Bai He murmured, gazing into his granddaughter’s clear eyes, his heart roiling.

Is this the power of a mutated Martial Soul?

Before the body reaches its limit, perception moves ahead.

Ordinary Soul Masters only consciously use the environment in battle upon reaching Soul King or Soul Emperor rank. But his granddaughter, at six years old, had already turned it into instinct.

“Good! Good! Good!” Bai He repeated three times, his laughter shaking the forest and scattering birds into chaotic flight.

“Looks like if I don’t show some real skill, this little girl’s going to look down on me!”

The training difficulty suddenly escalated.

No longer simple stone throws.

Bai He began to use his Soul Combatant-level speed to weave through the rocky forest, occasionally flicking a leaf from behind her, sometimes kicking up a handful of sand with his toes, or silently setting a thin, tough vine across her running path.

None of these attacks were lethal, but they were devilishly cunning.

They no longer tested mere reflexes, but Bai Chenxiang’s insight, judgment, and adaptability to every environmental change as she moved swiftly.

On the first day, Bai Chenxiang was covered in dust and dirt, with over a dozen new scrapes and bruises, tripping several times on the vines and falling dizzy.

But she never cried or complained, silently rising each time, her eyes burning with ever greater determination.

By the third day, she could run a full lap through the rocky forest despite Bai He’s harassment. Though her posture was ungraceful, she dodged over seventy percent of the attacks.

By the seventh day, Bai He realized he had to use a hint of Soul Power speed boost just to keep up with her pace.

Her rapid progress made even this veteran clan leader, accustomed to geniuses, feel a thrill of apprehension.

Like a dry sponge, she was greedily absorbing the nourishment of combat.

Under the extreme strain, her body unleashed astonishing potential.

Her muscle lines grew more streamlined; every burst of power was precise and efficient, with fewer and fewer wasted movements.

Her perception sharpened as well.

With closed eyes, she could form a vague three-dimensional image in her mind of every wind and rustle within a fifty-meter radius.

This was her self-created cultivation method—“Wind Whispering.”

That evening, training ended.

Bai Chenxiang lay on a warm boulder, gasping heavily. Sweat drenched her clothes, outlining the slender yet powerful contours of her body.

Every muscle ached and moaned, but her spirit was unusually exhilarated.

She could clearly feel herself growing faster, her body’s capacity to handle speed improving bit by bit.

Bai He sat beside her, handing over a water pouch, his eyes full of affection and pride.

His granddaughter possessed a tenacity far beyond her years, like an unbreakable stubborn stone.

“Grandpa, I don’t think it’s enough yet,” Bai Chenxiang said after a few sips, catching her breath.

“Not enough?” Bai He raised an eyebrow.

“You’re trying to wear out this old bone of mine?” he teased. “I even turned down tea with my old buddies just to train with you.”

Bai Chenxiang looked at the streaks of white at her grandfather’s temples, a warmth blossoming in her heart, yet a sly smile curled at her lips.

“Grandpa, I mean simple dodging training isn’t enough. I need pressure—the real kind, the kind that makes danger palpable.”

Bai He fell silent. He knew she was right.

A flower blooming in a greenhouse, however brilliant, cannot withstand wind and rain.

“What do you want to do?”

“Doesn’t the clan have some hunting traps?”

“Bring them all here—to this rocky forest. Poisoned blow darts, sharpened bamboo spears, iron nets that can trap soul beasts—use them all.”

Bai He’s expression darkened immediately. “Nonsense! Those things are unreliable. What if you get hurt? Especially the poisoned weapons—you can’t even touch those!”

“Grandpa, the strongest defense is to never get hit.”

Bai Chenxiang sat up, looking at him earnestly.

“If I can’t even dodge these lifeless traps, how will I face the enemy’s targeting? How will I confront those strange soul techniques?”

“My path is destined to dance on the edge of a blade. If I’m afraid to touch the blade’s sharpness, what kind of dance is that?”

Looking into his granddaughter’s unwavering eyes, filled with absolute confidence in her path and a hunger for danger,

Bai He suddenly recalled the legendary genius of the Haotian Sect many years ago—a man who dared to swing his hammer against the entire Martial Soul Hall.

Their paths were different, but the pride and confidence deep in their bones were strikingly alike.

“Are you really sure?” Bai He’s voice was somewhat hoarse.

“I am.”

Bai He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. When he opened them again, hesitation had vanished, replaced by a fierce resolve.

“All right! Grandpa will go mad with you once!”

He stood, his tall figure cast in a tragic heroic silhouette beneath the setting sun.