Planet Douluo, Douluo Mother Continent , History shows that twenty thousand years after the rise of Tang Sect Master Tang San, and ten thousand years after the rise of Spirit Tower Master Hu Yuhao.
Near a medium-sized city common on the continent, specifically on a main road connecting it to another city, a fissure opened in space, revealing a cave on the other side of the fissure, from which emerged a pale child with shoulder-length hair His features were handsome, but his eyes were deep and black, like a dead man’s.
Hardly any emotion could be seen in them, only fatigue and pain.
His face was devoid of emotion, like a machine that had never known emotions before.
After the child came out, he stood motionless in his place for a few seconds before turning his gaze towards the sky and the sun, then looking around as if he could not believe that he had actually come out.
A glimpse of sadness flickered in his dead eyes, but it quickly faded.
He looked right and left, searching for something, before noticing a sign on the side of the road.
He approached it quietly, stood in front of it, and began to read what was written on it.
He seemed to have a reading problem as it took him several minutes to complete a few words, but he achieved his goal and began walking towards the aforementioned city.
Like a tireless machine, he continued walking without stopping for hours.
He didn’t seem to care about hunger, thirst, or relieving himself.
His lifeless eyes were fixed solely on the direction of the city.
A name kept echoing in his mind as he walked, as if it were the engine of his energy.
And so, after four days of walking without stopping, without boredom, without fatigue, without rest or sleep, the features of the city appeared in the distance and began to become clearer with every step as he approached it.
He reached a bridge over a great river, then crossed it and thus entered the city.
He did not stop walking at the outskirts of the city, but continued walking as he ventured deeper into it, from the remote areas at its edges to the active, populated areas.
….
The passersby were walking as usual to their work, schools, or whatever destination their plans led them to.
And on the sidewalk, among the passersby There was a child who looked to be nine years old, wearing what looked like rags, barely enough to cover his legs up to his knees and his torso up to his shoulders.
The “clothes” on his small body had lost their original color and now had scattered colors, Or rather, the effects of what happened to it, carrying on his back an adult-sized backpack that looked about two-thirds his size, but he carried it without fatigue or problems with weight and balance.
The bag’s design was strange among other people, or rather old, as if it were decades old Or a century.
He had white-gray hair, not the healthy white hair some people have from birth, but the white-gray hair of an old man on the verge of death.
His body had slightly pale white skin, but not the paleness of illness Rather, the pallor from prolonged sun deprivation was pallid; his expressionless face had a hint of pink, indicating his health; his handsome, youthful face was radiant, reflecting his adult handsomeness; his body was well-proportioned and healthy, free from the emaciation of malnutrition، All of this indicates that he is not homeless as his clothes might suggest, which is what attracted the attention of passersby, whether because of his unusual hair, his handsome face, or his clothes, which are even more unusual than his hair.
Some passersby stopped him to ask about his situation and whether he needed help.
But the answer to the question was merely a piercing gaze, from deep black eyes, eyes that did not seem to know the meaning of life, not the eyes of experience of a long life, but the eyes of the dead, the eyes of someone mentally dead But the body was still alive, walking aimlessly, without thoughts, just walking.
His eyes frightened whoever asked.
He looked at them calmly for a second or two before continuing on his way as if he hadn’t heard anything.
Only some of those who asked remained standing together with some embarrassment while watching him, or left after some grumbling about the lack of respect.
As the child walked, he would stop every so often and remain in place for a minute or two, as if thinking about something important, then wait for a kind adult to come and ask him the same question about needing help.
Then he would finally open his mouth and prepare himself, and say: “The way…
to…
the cemetery.” His words were rusty, taking time to come out, and also for the person speaking to him to understand.
They were like the words of a two-year-old learning to speak for the first time, not of someone his age.
This is what shocked passersby, but under the scrutiny of his dead eyes, the answer came quickly.
“Go straight ahead, turn left at the fourth turn, then continue until you see a garden fence.
The cemetery is inside.
Oh, and be careful of the cars.” The kind man watched the child after answering his question, as he remained in place as if calmly analyzing the answer.
When he noticed that he wouldn’t move for some time, he repeated the warning gently and continued on his way.
After five minutes, the bearer of the bag opened his mouth, and broken words came out: “Thank you.” Then he began to walk again, following the directions he had gotten, and finally reached the cemetery.
He stood in front of the garden gate as if thinking before entering after some time.
Walking along the path, he could see rows of graves not far away.
Suddenly he stopped, as if he sensed something.
He quickly entered among the nearby trees, and before he could sit or move, his body froze.
The faint glimmer left his dead eyes, as if he had become a real corpse.
The strange thing was that his body remained in a walking posture, one foot raised and the other on the ground, with the large bag on his back.
His presence vanished and he became like a rock, to the point that after a while a bird sat on him without noticing he was human.
Three full hours passed before the corpse-like body moved again.
A faint glimmer barely visible returned to his eyes as he completed the step.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out except air.
Yet he was thinking, ‘The faint remnants still flicker even with me controlling them.’ Unlike the language of the people around him, it seemed he did not use language for his thoughts, but rather the embodiment of his clear emotions, which made it easier for him.
But it seemed he wanted to use language, though his knowledge of it was slow.
His attempt to think through language was like someone trying to retrieve a forgotten memory—it’s there, just slow.
After that, he returned to the main path, not caring that it was approaching sunset.
He walked and walked slowly until he reached the rows of graves without stopping, heedless of the graves that looked new.
He continued until, by checking the numbers on them, he reached graves that looked sixty years old from their condition and the numbers on them.
Then he began to search, grave by grave.
Of course, some passersby went past him, but this time no one bothered him—a child in a cemetery, clearly needing only solitude and quiet now.
He continued his search until the sun set and the people left, leaving him alone.
The cemetery guard arrived on patrol, and when he saw the small child moving among the graves, he approached quickly, shouting, “Hey kid, it’s late—leave and co…” But his words froze in his throat, and his pupils contracted as he saw a yellow ring appear behind the child, floating up and down slowly and calmly.
‘A Soul Master!’ The words appeared in the guard’s mind, and after hesitating for a few seconds, he gritted his teeth and said, “Please don’t cause any harm,” then turned and left as if there had been no child behind him.
Because the child was no longer a child in his eyes.
He was a Soul Master with a hundred-year ring.
What did that mean?
It meant he could kill him, relatively easily.
Even in an age of advanced technology and powerful mechas, the status of Soul Masters among the common people had not declined—it had only increased.
The child didn’t care or even respond to the guard he had just frightened; he simply continued his search.
Since he had left a few days ago, whenever he faced any trouble or an attempted kidnapping, he summoned this ring, and the troublemakers quickly disappeared.
With a price of one million federal credits for a single yellow ring, it was not something an ordinary person could afford.
The search among the graves continued, and even with no lighting, he kept searching.
With the ring summoned, his black eyes turned deep blue like the sea kilometers from the shore.
He could see in the dark thanks to this, as if it were morning.
Time passed like the wind.
After five hours of searching among the graves, the child remained standing at each grave, slowly analyzing the words, or rather recovering his memory of them.
He became faster and faster, as it was clear his memory was beginning to recover what he had lost.
Then his bare feet suddenly stopped moving in front of a particular gravestone—pale white, its color faded by time, without any ornamentation, just a name on a slab with a birth and death date, and a few words of condolence.
“Ah ha ga,” a wave of incomprehensible mumbling flowed from his mouth, as it was clear his thoughts had not yet caught up with forming words and synchronizing with his mouth.
Life suddenly returned to his eyes and flashed with a brilliance that almost made the previous death in his eyes a lie.
A stream of tears flowed beneath his eyes, down his cheeks, dripping from his face, which was swallowed by the pitch-black night with the faint light coming from the street lamps outside the cemetery.
Finally, his mouth managed to form words.
“I’m back…”