Chen Yu woke to the sound of a wooden spoon clanging against a pot, the sharp noise cutting through the haze of his dreams. He bolted upright, heart racing, and for a moment, he was Ethan again—groggy from a late-night coding session, expecting the beep of his alarm. But the rough straw mat beneath him and the cramped, dimly lit room snapped him back to reality. He was in Douluo Dalu, in Chen Yu's body, and today was the day of his martial soul awakening.
"Up, you lazy brats!" Old Mei's voice barked from the doorway. She stood with her hands on her hips, her gray hair pulled into a tight bun, her eyes sharp as a hawk's. "The Spirit Hall envoy is already in the square. You miss this, you're stuck hauling firewood for the rest of your miserable lives. Move!"
The other children in the room—five of them, ranging from skinny to downright scrawny—scrambled to their feet, tugging on patched tunics and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Chen Yu followed suit, his movements sluggish as his mind churned. The awakening ceremony was the moment of truth. In Soul Land, it determined whether you were destined for greatness or obscurity. Tang San had his twin martial souls; others, like the villagers in the novels, often ended up with useless souls like farm tools or weak beasts. Chen Yu's stomach twisted. What if he got something pathetic? A rusty rake? A lame chicken?
He shook off the thought, splashing cold water on his face from a basin in the corner. The other kids chattered nervously as they filed out of the orphanage, their voices a mix of excitement and fear. Chen Yu caught snippets of their talk—hopes of a strong beast soul, dreams of joining a sect, fears of being "ordinary." He stayed quiet, his mind racing with memories of the novels. He knew the process: a Spirit Hall deacon would use a special formation to awaken their martial souls, and a crystal would measure their innate soul power. Anything above level two was rare for a small village like this. Anything above five was a miracle.
The village square was already bustling when they arrived. A crowd of villagers—farmers, shopkeepers, and a few low-ranking soul masters—gathered around a stone platform where a man in a white robe stood. His robe bore the emblem of Spirit Hall, a golden flame encircled by six stars, and his presence carried an aura of quiet authority. Chen Yu's eyes widened. This was no ordinary deacon. The man's soul power radiated subtly, like a hum just below hearing. A Spirit Elder, maybe even a Spirit Ancestor. For a backwater village like this, that was a big deal.
"Line up, children," the envoy called, his voice smooth but commanding. He was tall, with sharp features and a neatly trimmed beard, his eyes scanning the group with a mix of boredom and curiosity. "Six of you today. Let's make this quick."
Chen Yu fell into line behind a lanky boy with a nervous tic, his heart pounding. The square smelled of dust and sweat, mingled with the faint sweetness of incense burning on a nearby altar. The villagers watched eagerly, whispering among themselves. Chen Yu caught a few glances aimed his way—pity, mostly. He was the orphan kid, the one who'd lost his parents to a fever years ago, the one who barely spoke. He clenched his fists, hating the weight of their stares.
The first child, a girl with pigtails, stepped onto the platform. The envoy placed six black stones in a hexagonal formation around her, their surfaces etched with faint runes. He raised his hand, and a soft golden light flowed from his palm, connecting the stones. The air hummed, and Chen Yu felt a strange pressure in his chest, like a string being plucked deep inside him. The girl gasped as a faint glow enveloped her, and above her head, a shimmering image appeared—a sickle, simple and unadorned.
"Martial soul: Sickle," the envoy announced, his tone flat. He held up a blue crystal, and the girl touched it hesitantly. It flickered, emitting a dim light. "Innate soul power: Level one. Next."
The girl's shoulders slumped, and she shuffled off the platform, her dreams of soul master glory already fading. The crowd murmured, some sympathetic, others dismissive. Chen Yu swallowed hard. One in ten kids had enough soul power to cultivate. The odds weren't great.
The next two kids fared no better—a hoe and a basket, both with zero soul power. The lanky boy in front of Chen Yu was trembling by the time it was his turn. His martial soul was a wolf pup, small but fierce, and the crystal glowed faintly. "Innate soul power: Level two," the envoy said, a hint of approval in his voice. "You may qualify for a soul master academy. Speak to me after."
The boy practically floated off the platform, grinning ear to ear. Chen Yu's stomach churned. Two more to go, then him. He tried to recall everything he knew about martial souls. They were inherited, usually, but his parents were a blank. He had no idea what to expect. And that hum in his chest—it was stronger now, almost insistent, like something alive waking up.
The fifth child, a chubby boy with a nervous laugh, got a bluegrass martial soul and level one soul power. He looked relieved just to have something. Then it was Chen Yu's turn.
"Step forward," the envoy said, his eyes narrowing slightly. Chen Yu felt exposed under that gaze, like the man could see right through him. He climbed onto the platform, his legs shaky. The stones were placed around him, their runes glinting in the morning sun. The crowd fell silent, and Chen Yu's heart thudded so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it.
"Relax," the envoy said, though his tone suggested he didn't care if Chen Yu did or not. "Focus inward. Let your soul speak."
Chen Yu closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing thoughts. The hum in his chest grew louder, vibrating through his bones. The envoy's hand glowed, and the formation activated with a low hum. Warmth flooded Chen Yu's body, starting at his feet and rising like a tide. It wasn't painful, but it was intense, like standing too close to a fire. He gritted his teeth, and then—
A pulse of energy surged through him, sharp and electric. He gasped, his eyes snapping open as the air around him shimmered. Above his head, a shape began to form, not solid like the others but fluid, almost liquid. It was a sphere, no bigger than a fist, its surface rippling with dark, iridescent colors—black, deep blue, and flecks of silver, like a starry night trapped in glass. But what caught his breath was the faint presence within it, a whisper of something alive. It wasn't just a soul—it felt like it was watching him.
The crowd gasped, and the envoy's composure slipped for a fraction of a second. "Martial soul…" He hesitated, frowning. "Unknown. A relic-type soul, possibly. Rare."
Chen Yu stared at the sphere, his mind reeling. A relic-type soul? In Soul Land, most martial souls were beasts, plants, or tools. Relic souls, like Tang San's Clear Sky Hammer, were rare and often powerful, but this didn't look like any hammer. It was too strange, too… sentient. The hum in his chest pulsed in sync with it, and for a moment, he swore he heard a voice—not words, but a feeling. Curiosity. Hunger.
"Test your soul power," the envoy said, holding out the crystal. His voice was steady, but his eyes were locked on Chen Yu, sharp with interest.
Chen Yu reached out, his hand trembling. The crystal was cool against his skin, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then it flared to life, glowing brighter than any of the others. The light wasn't blinding, but it was steady, a deep blue that seemed to pulse like a heartbeat. The crowd erupted into whispers, and Chen Yu's stomach flipped.
"Innate soul power: Level six," the envoy declared, his voice carrying a note of surprise. "High potential. You're eligible for advanced training."
Level six. Chen Yu's knees nearly buckled. In a village like this, level six was unheard of. Even in the novels, it was rare—Tang San had been a freak with innate full soul power, but level six was enough to mark Chen Yu as a prodigy. He should've been thrilled, but all he felt was dread. A strong soul and high soul power meant attention, and attention in Douluo Dalu was dangerous. Spirit Hall didn't let talents slip through their fingers, and he wasn't ready to be anyone's pawn.
"Step down," the envoy said, already turning to his notes, but his eyes lingered on Chen Yu a moment longer. "We'll speak later."
Chen Yu stumbled off the platform, his mind a whirlwind. The other kids stared at him, some with awe, others with envy. The lanky boy clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "Level six, Yu! You're gonna be a soul master for sure!"
Chen Yu forced a smile, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The sphere—his martial soul—had vanished when the formation shut off, but he could still feel it, humming inside him. It wasn't just a tool or a beast. It was something else, something that felt alive, and that scared him more than anything. He'd read enough of Soul Land to know that unique martial souls came with unique problems. What if this thing was cursed? Or tied to some ancient power he had no business wielding?
As the crowd dispersed, Old Mei grabbed his arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don't let it go to your head, boy," she said, her voice low. "Talent like that brings trouble. Keep your wits about you."
He nodded, barely hearing her. The envoy was watching him from across the square, and Chen Yu felt a chill. Spirit Hall was powerful, and their interest was a double-edged sword. He needed to learn more about his soul, and fast, before someone decided to control it—or him.
The sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the village. Chen Yu's new life had just begun, and already, it felt like he was walking a tightrope over a pit of soul beasts.