Southwest of the Heaven Dou Empire, Fasno Province.
In front of a low, shabby wooden hut at the west end of Dihun Village, a small, thin figure that had been sprinting came to a slow halt.
Lu Yuan stood before the little wooden house, his hands braced against his knees, gasping for breath.
Sweat poured down his youthful cheeks like rain, soaking the yellow earth beneath his feet.
This six-year-old child before him, though his body appeared somewhat frail, the muscle lines along his calves and arms faintly exuded a toughness.
“Huff…
huff…”
He straightened up, feeling the powerful thumping of his heart.
“Today, I’m finally going to awaken my martial soul!”
It had been six years since he had crossed over into the world of the novel “Douluo Continent.”
As a Supreme VIP customer of Qidian’s ‘Orphanage,’ Lu Yuan had been an orphan even before his transmigration.
Similarly, his original parents in this world had died when he was just over five years old, having encountered a spirit beast riot while venturing into the mountains to hunt for their first spirit ring.
And so, Lu Yuan became an orphan once again.
Unable to withstand the blow of losing both parents, Lu Yuan had fallen unconscious.
When he awoke again, he was shocked to find that he had accidentally regained the memories of his past life.
Only then did he learn that he had transmigrated into the Douluo world, starting off with both parents dead.
Perhaps bolstered by the memories of his previous life, the five-year-old Lu Yuan, after a period of self-adjustment, quickly emerged from that sorrowful state.
From then on, there were only six months left until Lu Yuan’s martial soul awakening.
As a transmigrator, and one who had arrived in this fantasy sewer of a world that was Douluo, where even the strength of the Blood Moving Realm could grant one eternal life, how could Lu Yuan not be filled with anticipation?
However, even living in this Douluo world—this so-called fantasy sewer—Lu Yuan did not grow arrogant or complacent.
To become a powerful spirit master, both a martial soul and innate spirit power were indispensable.
But these things were far too distant for Lu Yuan.
What mattered most right now was supplementing his nutrition and diligently training his body.
Only by doing so could he maximize the guarantee that, during the subsequent martial soul awakening, he wouldn’t end up with low spirit power due to a lack of nourishment.
Of course, someone like Yu Xiaogang—whose body, despite consuming fine cuisine, still couldn’t bear the weight of the Sacred Light Dragon martial soul—didn’t fall within the category of normal people.
Lu Yuan’s parents had at least been spirit masters with some spirit power, though only half a rank.
Still, their household never lacked for food.
And because both his father and mother had been the village doctors, Lu Yuan’s family also had some savings and a bit of farmland.
But in order to cultivate in peace and to ensure he had enough to eat, Lu Yuan first sought out the village’s respected elder—Niu Dali, the old village chief.
Under the old chief’s witness, Lu Yuan leased out his farmland on a one-year term to other villagers, exchanging it for enough grain to last him most of the year.
At the same time, Lu Yuan also took inspiration from the wilderness survival videos he’d watched in his past life—shows hosted by Bear Grylls and the like—and began setting up crude traps in the nearby woods, trying to catch small game like hares and pheasants to supplement his nutrition.
In those earliest days, sometimes an entire week would pass and Lu Yuan would only catch a blind rabbit or a lame pheasant.
But gradually, as his trips into the mountains increased, the number of prey he could capture also rose.
“Xiao Yuan.”
Suddenly, a voice tinged with age yet carrying a hint of warmth came from behind Lu Yuan.
Lu Yuan turned around and saw an old man with a hunched back and a somewhat gaunt frame, leaning on a jujube wood cane polished to a glossy sheen, slowly walking over.
This was Niu Dali—the old village chief of Dihun Village.
The old chief was over seventy now, his back somewhat stooped, his face covered in wrinkles as rough as tree bark.
Yet those murky eyes, when they fell upon Lu Yuan, gleamed with startling brightness.
“Grandpa Niu, why are you here?”
Recognizing the newcomer, Lu Yuan trotted over and moved to one side, supporting the old man’s other arm.
“Today…
is the day of the martial soul awakening.
I was worried you might forget, what with all your training.”
As he spoke, Niu Dali, as if performing a magic trick, produced from behind his back a roasted sweet potato as thick as an adult’s palm, along with a large chicken leg wrapped in lotus leaves, and handed them over.
“Here you go, Xiao Yuan.
I knew you wouldn’t have eaten breakfast at this hour.
Eat this first.
The martial soul awakening is a big deal—you can’t go on an empty stomach.”
“Wow, roasted sweet potato and a big chicken leg!
Thank you, Grandpa Niu!”
Lu Yuan laughed as he took the roasted sweet potato and the chicken leg from the old chief’s hands and began eating heartily.
By now, Lu Yuan was used to the old chief’s occasional feeding.
The old man was like a magician, always able to produce food just when Lu Yuan least expected it.
If Lu Yuan hadn’t known that the old chief wasn’t a spirit master, he might have thought the man possessed a storage spirit tool.
The old chief stood quietly by, watching Lu Yuan with gentle eyes.
In no time at all, Lu Yuan had finished off the roasted sweet potato and the big chicken leg.
As for the martial soul awakening day the old chief had mentioned, Lu Yuan hadn’t forgotten it at all.
He had been looking forward to this day for a long time!
According to his memories, Su Yuntao—the man widely ridiculed by netizens as “Blind-Eyed Douluo”—would be coming to Dihun Village today.
Perhaps even that child of destiny, Tang San, was not far away, undergoing the same ceremony in the nearby Shenghun Village.
But exactly how old Tang San was, Lu Yuan didn’t know, because he had never been to Shenghun Village.
Led by the old chief, the two—one old and one young—made their way toward the Spirit Hall wooden hut at the center of the village.
Listening to the old chief patiently explaining matters related to the martial soul awakening, Lu Yuan grew more and more eager for the ceremony to come.
“I wonder…
what will my martial soul be?”
Lu Yuan’s heart held both anticipation and a trace of nervousness.
The types of martial souls among Dihun Village’s residents were quite diverse.
The entire village had over three hundred people, and there were more than thirty different categories of martial souls.
Things like “pots, pans, scissors, carrots…”—these sorts of martial souls made up more than half of them.
As for his parents’ martial souls, one was an ordinary little black bird, while the other was a common steel fork.
Fortunately, both of them had also possessed half a rank of innate spirit power.
However, unlike Yu Xiaogang, they didn’t have a family to support them.
It wasn’t until they were in their twenties that Lu Yuan’s father and mother had barely managed to cultivate to level ten.
Lu Yuan had at least read the original Douluo novel as well as various fanfictions.
He deeply understood the cruel rules of this world.
Without spirit power, one was ultimately just a mortal.
Moreover, he firmly believed that as long as he could possess spirit power, he would definitely be able to make something of himself in the future.
“A useless martial soul” and “low spirit power” didn’t mean a person had no future—the key lay in how one developed their martial soul.
Just like Ji Juechen in the original work, who had only a level-three innate spirit power and yet eventually became a Titled Douluo.
…
Before long, Lu Yuan followed the old chief to the center of the village.
At this moment, the large wooden hut at the village center—the one called the “Spirit Hall”—was already surrounded by people.
This year, there were a total of seven children in Dihun Village of age for awakening.
Lu Yuan was the last to arrive.
“Ooh, Xiao Yuan’s here!”
“Come over quickly!
We’ve been waiting for you!”
The villagers greeted him warmly, their eyes full of care and expectation.
Just then, the crowd suddenly fell silent.
A young man dressed in white training clothes and draped in a black cloak stood on the steps before the wooden hut.
He looked to be in his twenties, with sharp brows and bright eyes.
Though his expression carried some fatigue, he naturally exuded an extraordinary aura.
On his chest, clearly emblazoned, was a “Soul” emblem the size of a fist.
Su Yuntao!
Lu Yuan’s gaze sharpened slightly.
This was the poor soul who would one day be blinded by Tang San—and also the guide for countless Douluo fanfiction transmigrators.
“It’s getting late.
Let’s begin.” Cutting off the villagers’ chatter, Su Yuntao’s voice was flat, carrying a cold, businesslike detachment.
“Yes, yes, yes.
We’re sorry to trouble you, Master.” The old chief quickly nodded and bowed, his face breaking into a fawning smile:
“Children, line up properly and listen to the Master.
Grandpa hopes that today, each of you will become a spirit master.”
Watching the old chief’s hopeful expression, Su Yuntao sighed inwardly but said nothing more.
He had seen too many such scenes over the years.
“Ordinary people without spirit master bloodlines, yet wanting to awaken spirit power—how could it be so easy?”