The sound of metal striking metal echoed continuously through the narrow wooden workshop.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Each strike was uneven and weak, yet the young boy standing beside the furnace continued hammering stubbornly without pause.
Sweat dripped from his forehead despite the cold morning air, and his thin arms trembled slightly every time the hammer descended onto the heated iron.
The old blacksmith watching nearby finally frowned.
“Enough.
Stop before you break your wrist.” The boy lowered the hammer obediently and stepped back, breathing heavily.
His chest rose and fell unevenly while heat from the furnace illuminated his calm dark eyes.
He looked around eleven or twelve years old, though the composure in his expression felt strangely incompatible with his age.
The old blacksmith tossed a cloth toward him.
Lin Yuan caught it silently and wiped the sweat from his hands.
“You’re distracted today,” the old man said while examining the half-finished iron piece.
“If this continues, I’ll start believing those rumors about you.” Lin Yuan glanced upward slightly.
“Rumors?” The blacksmith snorted.
“They say you spend your nights sitting alone outside the mountains like some little madman cultivating spirit power instead of sleeping.” Lin Yuan smiled faintly without answering.
The old man stared at him for several seconds before sighing helplessly.
“You really are strange.” Lin Yuan did not deny it.
Because he knew the old man was right.
He was strange.
Strange enough that sometimes even he himself struggled to fully accept reality.
After all, ordinary children did not wake up with memories from another world.
They did not remember novels, wars, gods, or future tragedies before ever learning how to read.
And they certainly did not remember the name: Soul Land.
Lin Yuan lowered his gaze quietly.
Six years.
It had already been six years since he regained awareness in this world.
Six years since he realized the Douluo Continent was no longer fiction.
At first, he had believed it was a dream.
Then a hallucination.
Then madness.
But reality had slowly erased every doubt.
Spirit masters existed.
Martial souls existed.
Spirit beasts existed.
And somewhere far away on this continent, a child named Tang San was likely still living peacefully in Holy Spirit Village.
The future had not begun yet.
But it would.
Lin Yuan remembered exactly how cruel that future could become.
Spirit Hall.
Continental war.
The collapse of countless families.
The tragedy of Tang Chen.
The hatred consuming Bibi Dong.
Qian Renxue’s loneliness beneath endless masks.
And the river of blood flowing beneath Slaughter City.
A faint pressure unconsciously spread from Lin Yuan’s body.
The air nearby became noticeably heavier.
The old blacksmith’s expression changed slightly.
“Again?” Lin Yuan immediately restrained the pressure.
“Sorry.” The blacksmith rubbed his shoulders uncomfortably before waving his hand.
“I still don’t understand what kind of martial soul you awakened.
Every time you lose focus, it feels like a mountain suddenly lands on my back.” Lin Yuan remained silent.
Three months ago, during martial soul awakening, his life had truly begun changing.
Unlike the other children in the town, whose martial souls were mostly farming tools or weak beasts, Lin Yuan had awakened something no one recognized.
The moment spirit power surged through his body, invisible pressure exploded outward violently enough to crack the awakening hall’s floor.
Dark crimson rings had appeared briefly behind him like distorted halos, while countless black chains flickered through the air before vanishing.
Even the Spirit Hall deacon overseeing the awakening had fallen silent for several seconds.
No one knew what kind of martial soul it was.
Only Lin Yuan understood.
Asura Prison.
A martial soul born from pressure, suppression, and killing intent.
The perfect inheritance vessel for the Asura path.
His fingers unconsciously tightened slightly.
Even now, he still remembered the strange feeling from the awakening ceremony.
The instant his martial soul appeared, something deep within his soul had resonated violently.
Like a distant call.
Cold.
Ancient.
Bloody.
Lin Yuan exhaled slowly.
He already understood one thing clearly.
If he continued following the original timeline, then eventually Tang San would inherit the Asura position.
Which meant that unless fate changed… Tang Chen would continue suffering inside Slaughter City for decades.
Half human.
Half monster.
A legendary genius reduced to a puppet drenched in blood.
Lin Yuan’s eyes darkened slightly.
That outcome had always bothered him the most while reading Soul Land.
Not because Tang Chen was weak.
But because he had once stood at the very peak of the continent and still fell into despair alone.
No one saved him.
Until it was far too late.
“Kid.” The blacksmith’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Lin Yuan looked up.
The old man tossed him a small iron token.
“Take this delivery to the eastern market before noon.” Lin Yuan caught the token reflexively and nodded.
Without wasting words, he grabbed his coat and left the workshop.
Cold wind greeted him the moment he stepped outside.
Snow covered most of the streets, while merchants shouted loudly beneath wooden stalls lining the roadside.
Spirit masters occasionally passed through the town atop tall horses, their expensive clothing sharply contrasting the poor civilians struggling nearby.
Lin Yuan walked quietly through the streets while observing everything around him.
No matter how many years passed, he still could not fully adapt to this world.
Soul Land’s strong preyed upon the weak far more openly than modern society ever had.
Power determined status.
Power determined dignity.
Power determined survival.
A child without talent could disappear overnight without anyone caring.
Lin Yuan pulled his coat tighter against the cold.
Then suddenly— His footsteps stopped.
A familiar sensation emerged inside his mind.
The dark world appeared again.
Lin Yuan’s expression remained calm.
After years of experimentation, he had already grown accustomed to it.
The Mental Battle Space.
A strange ability connected directly to his soul.
Whenever his consciousness entered that endless black world, he could fight endlessly against opponents created from his own instincts and experience.
At first, he had died thousands of times inside it.
Every defeat felt real.
Broken bones.
Crushed organs.
The sensation of death itself.
But the benefits were terrifying.
His combat instincts sharpened rapidly through constant battle.
His mental endurance grew stronger.
Even his control over spirit power improved faster than ordinary cultivation.
Lin Yuan slowly closed his eyes while standing in the middle of the snowy street.
The world around him faded instantly.
Darkness swallowed everything.
When he opened his eyes again, endless black space stretched before him.
A figure already stood waiting in the distance.
Exactly identical to him.
Emotionless.
Silent.
Lin Yuan inhaled slowly.
Then the pressure around his body erupted outward.
Boom.
The black ground beneath his feet cracked instantly.
The figure moved simultaneously.
Both silhouettes collided head-on without hesitation.
Fists struck violently against each other.
Pain surged through Lin Yuan’s arm immediately, but his expression remained steady as invisible pressure exploded outward from his body.
The surrounding gravity distorted.
The enemy’s movement slowed slightly.
Lin Yuan stepped forward instantly and drove his elbow toward the figure’s throat.
The figure twisted sideways unnaturally before counterattacking toward his ribs.
Lin Yuan narrowly blocked the strike.
Then the battle descended into chaos once more.
Violence.
Pressure.
Adaptation.
Again and again.
Time lost meaning inside the Mental Battle Space.
Lin Yuan did not know how long the fight lasted before the darkness finally shattered around him.
Cold wind brushed against his face once more.
He opened his eyes slowly.
The snowy street had returned.
Yet his breathing had become steadier than before.
Lin Yuan lowered his gaze toward his trembling hand.
A faint smile finally appeared on his face.
He was becoming stronger.
Slowly.
But undeniably.
And someday… He would enter Slaughter City.
Not as prey.
But as the man who would drag a fallen king back out of hell itself.