A Mass Grave
Overgrown with weeds, stained with blood.
A nauseating stench permeated the air. Corpses piled up like a small mountain, a horrifying sight.
Limbs and torsos lay scattered everywhere, some already rotting, revealing stark white bones that sent chills down one's spine.
A man dressed in pale gold robes stood quietly before the pile of corpses. He appeared to be in his thirties or forties, with long, flowing golden hair, a sharply defined face, and eyes as deep as the starry sea.
"Looks like we're too late. The Haotian Sect has escaped," the man said calmly, gazing at the mound of bodies.
"I didn't expect the Haotian Sect to be so ruthless, not even sparing the villagers from the neighboring village!" an old man beside him said, looking at the man.
"Never mind, let's leave first," the man replied evenly, his eyes cold as he surveyed the horrific scene before him.
"Wah—wah—"
Just then, from within the pile of corpses, the cry of a baby suddenly rang out.
In the arms of a woman's corpse, a blood-soaked infant cried weakly.
The old man, seeing the baby, exclaimed in shock, "An infant survived?"
The blond man looked at the child, his eyes trembling with emotion.
He had just suffered the pain of losing his son, and unexpectedly, he saw a fragile spark of life in this field of death.
"Xunji just passed away, and you came into this world? Could it be… you've come to bring me hope?" the blond man murmured, walking step by step toward the child.
Reaching the infant, he pried open the mother's stiffened hands and lifted the baby in his arms.
"My son died, your village was massacred, and your parents perished. We are both in the same boat," he said softly. "We are destined to meet. I will name you Qian Ye. From this day forward, you are my son — Qian Daoliu's son."
Six years later.
The Spirit Hall.
In a quiet room, a strong little boy, shirtless, began doing push-ups.
He stopped after one thousand.
This little boy was Qian Ye, the infant Qian Daoliu had saved years ago.
Qian Ye stood up, his long black hair cascading down, his handsome, resolute face blank with indifference. Although only six years old, his compact muscles exuded explosive strength, and his dark eyes gleamed with an icy nobility — the gaze of someone born to command.
Standing before the mirror, Qian Ye murmured, "Is it finally time to awaken my martial soul? It seems I'm not far from revenge."
Revenge… the word feels warm, familiar. Like a fire I feed one breath at a time.
His reflection stared back at him — cold, sharp, and lifeless.
What no one knew was that Qian Ye was a transmigrator.
Six years ago, he had transmigrated into a village near the Haotian Sect, where his once-peaceful life had been annihilated by that very sect.
He had come from Earth and had read the original Douluo Continent novel. From birth, he possessed his past memories.
Therefore, he remembered everything that happened back then.
Over the years, through his father Qian Daoliu's stories and his own recollection of the novel's plot, he pieced together what had truly happened.
Six years ago, Tang Hao, knowing Ah Yin's identity as a soul beast, had still brought his wife Ah Yin to Wuhun City for a stroll. Unsurprisingly, they were discovered by the Spirit Hall.
Ah Yin was a hundred-thousand-year soul beast — how could they possibly let her live?
The Pope at that time, Qian Xunji, led Spirit Hall in besieging Tang Hao and Ah Yin.
As a result, Ah Yin sacrificed herself for Tang Hao, greatly enhancing his power and leaving Qian Xunji gravely wounded.
After returning to Spirit Hall, Qian Xunji was ambushed by Bibi Dong and died.
Following his son's death, Qian Daoliu was consumed by despair. He turned his wrath toward Tang Hao, hoping to force him out of hiding through the Haotian Sect.
But when he arrived, the sect had already abandoned its ancestral grounds and vanished into seclusion.
Fearing that neighboring villagers might expose their location, the Haotian Sect massacred everyone nearby.
That village was the one where Qian Ye had been born.
In other words, the Haotian Sect had slaughtered his parents, his neighbors, his entire home.
Perhaps through carelessness, the infant Qian Ye survived.
Because he retained his memories, the child remembered everything — his father's death, his mother's desperate struggle, the screams of his neighbors, the crackle of fire as the village burned.
All because of Tang Hao. All because of the Haotian Sect.
If Tang Hao hadn't flaunted his arrogance before the Spirit Hall… if he'd had the courage to face his own sins instead of running… then none of this would have happened.
But cowardice breeds blood. Their cowardice created me.
If Tang Hao hadn't fled, the Haotian Sect wouldn't have gone into hiding. If they hadn't gone into hiding, they wouldn't have butchered innocent villagers.
Then his village would still exist.
Yet Qian Ye hated the Haotian Sect most of all, for they were the executioners who carried out the slaughter.
Whether it was Tang Hao or the Haotian Sect — they would all pay.
And when they do, I'll make sure they understand despair the way I learned it: slowly.
"Ye'er!"
A deep voice sounded from the doorway. Qian Ye looked up to see his adoptive father, Qian Daoliu, waiting there.
Although Qian Daoliu appeared to be in his thirties or forties, he was over a hundred years old — old enough to be Qian Ye's grandfather.
But Qian Ye understood. Qian Daoliu had lost his son and had fallen into despair.
Finding Qian Ye amid a mountain of corpses had given him hope — a reason to keep living.
That was why he chose to raise Qian Ye as his son, not his grandson.
"Father!" Qian Ye greeted respectfully.
As Qian Daoliu's son, Qian Ye felt no resentment. After all, his adoptive father was one of the few sane men in the Douluo Continent.
In the original story, everything Qian Daoliu did was worthy of respect.
He had loved Bo Saixi, but when he discovered she loved Tang Chen, he withdrew quietly.He learned that Bibi Dong had killed his son, yet for Qian Renxue's sake, he endured and let her go.In the end, he sacrificed himself to grant his granddaughter the legacy of the Angel God.
An honorable fool in a dishonorable world.
Every act filled Qian Ye with a strange admiration — and calculation.
Now, as Qian Daoliu's son, Qian Ye was proud — and quietly watchful.
"Today is the day you awaken your martial soul," Qian Daoliu said calmly. "Wash up, and I'll take you to awaken it."
"Okay," Qian Ye nodded and turned toward the bathroom.
His heart was filled with anticipation.
What kind of power will I awaken? Whatever it is, I'll mold it into a blade sharp enough to carve my path in this world.