The east forest lay in shattered stillness, splintered pines and churned earth marking the clash between Arthev and Tang Hao. Arthev sprawled on the ground, pain radiating from Tang Hao's devastating palm strike, his breath ragged. The Haotian Douluo loomed above, his black cloak rippling, his level 95 presence a suffocating weight. Yet, within Arthev, a spark had ignited—unseen, unbidden. His eyes burned, the world sharpening as crimson flooded his irises. Three black tomoe spun into place, orbiting slowly in each eye. A soft silver-white hue bled from the edges of his sclera, wrapping the crimson glow in an otherworldly shimmer. The Three Tomoe Shinragan had awakened, its power pulsing silently, unnoticed by Tang Hao.The Douluo's eyes, fixed on Arthev's crumpled form, showed no hint of recognition.
"You're done, boy," Tang Hao growled, his voice a low thunder. "Stay down, and I'll let you walk away—barely."
Arthev pushed himself to one knee, his mind racing despite the pain. He hasn't seen my eyes, he thought, keeping his gaze lowered, the crimson glow hidden in the forest's dim light. I don't know what triggered this, but I need to move. "I'm not finished, Senior," he said, his tone formal but defiant, rising unsteadily. "You wanted a lesson—I'm still standing."
Tang Hao's sneer deepened, his patience thinning. "Stubborn," he said, his soul power flaring. "Then learn the hard way." He lunged, a blur of black, his fist arcing toward Arthev's chest with force enough to shatter stone.
Arthev's vision shifted—everything snapped into sharp focus, as if the world slowed to a crawl. Before Tang Hao's fist even began its arc, Arthev saw it—a phantom image, a split-second premonition of the strike, precise and deadly. His body moved on instinct, twisting right, boots skidding across moss.
The blow missed.
Air exploded behind him as Tang Hao's fist smashed into a tree, splintering it into shards with a thunderous crack.
Tang Hao froze.
His eyes widened, the calm on his face cracking with disbelief.
That was a clean shot… how did he dodge it?
A pace away, Arthev stared, chest rising and falling. He was just as stunned.
"I… saw it," he murmured, barely audible. "Before he moved—I saw where it would land."
His thoughts raced, trying to make sense of what just happened.
That wasn't instinct. That was… foresight?
Tang Hao's expression hardened, suspicion flashing in his gaze.
"Saw it?" he echoed, stepping forward, his presence pressing like a weight. "You're not just fast. You moved before I even struck. That's no soul technique."
His brows furrowed.
No ordinary child reacts like that. This isn't reflex. It's something else.
Before Arthev could answer, Tang Hao lashed out again—a sweeping kick, faster, backed by soul power that cracked like thunder.
But again, the Shinragan pulsed. Arthev's eyes flickered—another vision, another glimpse a moment ahead. He saw the kick's trajectory before Tang Hao's leg even moved.
Arthev flipped back, evading cleanly. The kick tore through air, uprooting a sapling in a burst of debris.
Tang Hao's jaw clenched.
No. This isn't luck. This boy is seeing my attacks before I make them.
"Twice," Tang Hao muttered, voice low and dangerous. "That's no coincidence."
His gaze locked onto Arthev, sharp with intensity.
"You're not just some soul master kid.Speak, boy—what's your game?"
Arthev steadied himself, his calm facade holding firm despite the thrum of adrenaline in his veins. "I'm not playing games, Senior," he said coolly, voice level and precise. "I don't know how I'm doing this… but I see your movements—before you make them."
"Oi, Stunned Face!"
Shukaku's voice burst into his mind, rough and crackling with excitement. "That's yer Shinragan kickin' in! Those fancy eyes o' yours—they're doin' the work! Remember the ruins? That guardian beast you danced around when you were seven?"
The memory snapped into place—Arthev, younger, trembling before a guardian beast. His vision had shifted then, too—split-second flashes, attacks predicted before they landed.
"You're right," Arthev replied mentally, the pieces clicking. "That was the Shinragan… undeveloped, but the same pattern."
His gaze stayed locked on Tang Hao, but he said nothing aloud—his silence now deliberate, a shield while his mind worked.
Shinragan… a fusion of the Sharingan's insight and the Byakugan's perception. If it evolved… maybe it lets me glimpse the immediate future. Just enough to react.
Tang Hao's patience fractured.
His soul power surged in a roar of pressure, the air vibrating with it. "You think silence will save you?" he snapped. "Then I'll rip the truth out myself!"
He charged—fists glowing, soul energy coiled tight—each blow a blur, each strike a hammer meant to end the mystery.
Arthev's Shinragan flared—crimson irises rimmed with silver-white fire, tomoe spinning like orbiting stars. Time fractured around him; visions flashed forward—Tang Hao's left fist to his shoulder, right to his ribs, a feint, then a crushing knee. Arthev moved like flowing water, weaving through the chaos—sidestep, duck, pivot. Each motion perfect, preemptive, untouched.
Tang Hao skidded to a halt, the ground scored from missed strikes. His chest rose once—frustration, not fatigue.
"Enough!" he roared. "No soul master—no child—dodges me like that. What are you?"
Arthev straightened, realizing too late—his eyes were exposed. The swirling red and silver-white glow lit the shadows like a second moon. Tang Hao's expression hardened—less confusion now, more calculation.
"Those eyes…" Tang Hao murmured, voice dark. "That's not a Tree soul. That's not normal. I've never seen anything like them."
Arthev's mind raced. He's seen them now—too late to conceal. Still, he kept his tone steady, diplomatic.
"They're… part of me," he said. "I don't fully understand them myself."
A lie—but one he wore convincingly.
Tang Hao stepped forward, pressure mounting. "Part of you," he repeated. "A second martial soul? No—those eyes are something else. They're why you dodged me, aren't they? Some kind of foresight?"
Arthev's silence spoke volumes. Though his face remained calm, his pulse thundered beneath the stillness. He's getting too close.
"I didn't choose this, Senior," he said evenly. "But I won't apologize for surviving."
Tang Hao's expression shifted—respect battling with distrust.
"Surviving," he echoed, voice low. "You're a strange one, boy. And I don't trust what I can't understand. Those eyes saved you today… but don't think they'll hide your secrets forever." He stepped closer, his gaze sharp as steel. "Stay away from Tang San—or I'll tear the truth out of you myself."
The Shinragan glowed steadily, unwavering.
"I've no quarrel with your son," Arthev replied, tone cool, each word weighed. "But I won't cower from a challenge—his or yours."
Tang Hao's eyes narrowed—a flicker of warning behind them.
"Bold words," he said, voice like distant thunder. He turned, his cloak brushing the air, fading into the trees. "Pray you don't choke on them."
Even as his presence ebbed, his intent lingered—like a shadow that refused to lift.
"Damn, Stunned Face," Shukaku muttered, half-laughing, half-impressed. "Your eyes—seein' the future now? That's a new trick! Guardian beast was one thing, but this guy? You danced through a storm, brat! What's next?"
Arthev let out a slow breath, the glow of his Shinragan dimming as the world snapped back to normal.
"Next?" he replied silently. "I learn to control it. If I can see ahead… I need precision—before Tang Hao decides to test me again."
The forest stood quiet around him, Tang Hao's presence fading into the trees like a phantom swallowed by the dusk. Arthev remained still—alone now—his eyes simmering with untamed power and the weight of what was coming. The silence did not bring peace. Instead, it pressed down like a warning, thick and alive. He did not move. He could still feel the force of the confrontation pulsing through his bones.
Arthev stood amid the aftermath, unmoving. Despite the deep ache embedded in his limbs and the dull throb behind his eyes, he remained upright—resolute. Thin tendrils of steam-like smoke coiled from his skin, trailing into the air like whispers of defiance. His body was healing, slowly knitting itself back together after enduring the full brunt of the Haotian Douluo's crushing blow.
His dark eyes swept over the forest, calm but vigilant. The Three Tomoe Shinragan had retreated into dormancy, yet its presence still pulsed faintly at the edge of his consciousness—freshly awakened, its heightened perception echoing like a distant bell in his thoughts.
Time slipped by. Nearly an hour passed.
He is gone, Arthev thought, his jaw tightening. But he may be watching. Somewhere nearby. He knows now—I am not ordinary.
He exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled. I need more control. Power without mastery is a liability.
A sudden voice rang through his mind, rough and unfiltered.
"Hey! Stunned Face! Are you planning to keep standing there like some tragic statue, or are you going to start moving again?"
Arthev's brow twitched slightly. "…Shukaku."
The voice responded with a snort, tinged with smugness and a rare trace of relief.
"No sign of that hammer-wielding lunatic for at least a thousand kilometers. He is long gone—vanished like a fart in the wind. So you can relax already."
Arthev finally allowed his stance to ease, the rigid tension in his shoulders loosening as he exhaled again, this time quieter.
"Your detection range is impressive. Mine is still limited… but your confirmation settles it. He is no longer an immediate threat."
"Damn right it is impressive," Shukaku grumbled. "What do you think I am here for? Just to offer sarcastic commentary?"
"You are mostly here to make sarcastic commentary," Arthev replied dryly, brushing ash off his sleeve. "But you have your uses."
A low chuckle rumbled through their mental link. "Heh. That's the spirit, kid."
Arthev stepped toward a broad pine tree, its towering form rising above the fractured battlefield. The bark was rough beneath his fingertips—solid, grounding. Slowly, he lowered himself to the base of the trunk, letting his back settle against it. The wood pressed firmly against his spine, anchoring him in the present.
The forest had fallen into a deep hush. The chaos of battle had evaporated, leaving only stillness in its wake. No rustle of leaves. No birdsong. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the lingering tension in the air.
The silence enveloped him like a shroud—calm, heavy, unbroken. No one was watching. No one was listening. This place, for now, was his alone. It was his ground. His sanctuary.
Arthev closed his eyes for a moment. Then his mental voice cut through the quiet, sharp and focused.
"Shukaku. We are beginning tailed beast possession. Now. Controlled. Gradual. The forest is empty. There is no better opportunity. And I am almost fully healed."
To be continued....