The morning sun filtered through the orphanage's paper windows, casting a pale glow across the cramped room where Chen Yu lay awake. The hum in his chest had quieted overnight, but it was still there, a faint pulse that reminded him of the strange sphere—his martial soul. He hadn't slept well, his dreams a jumble of dark voids and whispering voices that left him uneasy. Today, he was supposed to meet the village elder and learn what Spirit Hall had planned for him. The thought made his stomach twist. Talent like his was rare, but in Douluo Dalu, it was as much a curse as a blessing.
He rolled off his straw mat, careful not to wake the other kids, who were still snoring softly. Old Mei was already up, her sharp voice barking orders in the kitchen as she prepared a meager breakfast. Chen Yu pulled on his patched tunic, his small hands moving automatically while his mind raced. Yesterday's experiment in the forest had shown him two things: his martial soul was powerful, capable of bending the world in ways he didn't understand, and it was dangerous, draining him in seconds. He needed to master it, but he also needed to hide it, at least until he knew what he was dealing with.
Outside, the village was stirring. Farmers hauled carts of vegetables to the market, and a few early risers gossiped near the well. Chen Yu slipped out the back door, avoiding Old Mei's watchful eyes, and headed toward the village elder's house. It was a modest building, larger than most, with a tiled roof and a small courtyard where a gnarled plum tree stood. The elder, a wiry old man named Li Shun, was waiting for him, sitting on a wooden bench with a cup of tea in hand. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, and a faint trace of soul power lingered around him—a Spirit Master, though probably no higher than rank twenty.
"You're late," Li Shun said, his voice gruff but not unkind. He gestured to a stool across from him. "Sit. We've got things to discuss."
Chen Yu sat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "Sorry, Elder Li. I didn't mean to keep you waiting."
The elder waved a hand, dismissing the apology. "No matter. Spirit Hall doesn't wait, though, and they've taken an interest in you. Level six soul power doesn't show up in a place like this every day. Neither does a relic-type soul." He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What do you know about it, boy? Your martial soul. Did it feel… different?"
Chen Yu hesitated, his instincts screaming to stay vague. The novels had taught him one thing about Spirit Hall: they collected talents like trophies, and his soul was too strange to reveal fully. "It's just a sphere," he said, shrugging. "It glowed, moved a little. I don't know what it does yet."
Li Shun grunted, sipping his tea. "Honest enough. But don't play dumb with Spirit Hall. Deacon Wei's no fool, and he'll want to know more. He's arranged for you and Liang Hao to start basic training tomorrow. There's a small soul master school in the next town, about a day's walk. You'll go there, learn the basics—meditation, soul power control, maybe some combat forms. If you do well, they'll send you to a proper academy."
Chen Yu's heart sank. A school meant structure, oversight, and more eyes on his martial soul. But it also meant a chance to learn, to grow stronger. He couldn't survive in this world without training, not with soul beasts and rival soul masters out there. "What about the village?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Do I have to leave right away?"
"Not yet," Li Shun said. "You'll train locally for a few months, under a Spirit Hall instructor. They're sending someone—a rank thirty Spirit Grandmaster, from what I hear. After that, it depends on your progress. And Spirit Hall's plans." He gave Chen Yu a long look. "You're a smart kid, Yu. Smarter than you let on. Keep your head down and don't cross them. Spirit Hall doesn't like defiance."
Chen Yu nodded, his throat tight. He knew the stakes. In the novels, Spirit Hall was a double-edged sword—offering power and protection but demanding loyalty in return. Tang San had defied them, but he'd had the backing of a powerful clan and a genius mind. Chen Yu was just a kid with a weird soul and a head full of half-remembered novel plots.
"Go eat," Li Shun said, waving him off. "And stay out of the forest. Soul beasts have been restless lately. Last thing we need is you getting chewed up before training starts."
Chen Yu murmured his thanks and left, his mind buzzing. The forest. He'd felt watched there yesterday, and the memory made his skin prickle. But he needed to practice, to understand his soul before Spirit Hall started poking around. The trick was finding a safe place to do it.
He wandered the village, avoiding the square where villagers were still gossiping about the ceremony. Liang Hao found him near the stream, his lanky frame bouncing with excitement. "Yu! Heard you're training with me! We're gonna be soul masters, man! Real ones!"
Chen Yu managed a smile. Liang Hao's enthusiasm was infectious, but it also made him uneasy. The kid was too open, too trusting. In this world, that could get you killed. "Yeah, sounds good," he said, keeping his tone light. "You think your wolf pup's gonna make you famous?"
Liang Hao grinned, puffing out his chest. "Bet it will! I'm gonna get a soul ring, make it a real wolf. What about you? That sphere thing's weird, but level six? You're gonna crush it."
Chen Yu shrugged, deflecting. "We'll see. Gotta figure out what it does first."
They talked for a while, Liang Hao chattering about his dreams of joining a sect, while Chen Yu half-listened, his thoughts on the sphere. By midday, he slipped away, claiming he needed a nap. Instead, he headed to the edge of the village, not the forest but an old barn on the outskirts, half-abandoned and overgrown with weeds. It wasn't perfect, but it was private, and the thick walls would muffle any noise.
Inside, the barn smelled of dust and rotting hay. Sunlight streamed through cracks in the wooden roof, casting slanted beams across the floor. Chen Yu sat in the center, cross-legged, and closed his eyes. He focused on the hum in his chest, slower now but still there, like a tide waiting to rise. "Come on," he whispered. "Let's try this again."
He reached inward, picturing the sphere. The warmth in his core stirred, sluggish at first, then flowing faster. The air shimmered, and the sphere appeared, hovering above his palm. Its dark, iridescent surface pulsed gently, and that sense of presence was back—curious, almost playful. Chen Yu's breath hitched. He pushed a trickle of soul power into it, careful not to overdo it like last time.
The sphere glowed brighter, and the air around it rippled, like heat rising from a fire. He felt the same resonance as before, a vibration that tugged at the world. A loose nail on the floor trembled, then slid toward the sphere, stopping just short of his hand. Chen Yu's eyes widened. It wasn't just gravity—it was like the sphere was pulling at the *essence* of things, bending their presence.
He focused harder, trying to shape the effect. The sphere pulsed, and a low hum filled the barn, almost musical. The air grew heavy, and a stack of hay bales in the corner shifted, one tumbling to the ground with a soft thud. Chen Yu's heart raced. This was no ordinary martial soul. It was manipulating space, maybe even reality itself. But what did that mean? Was it a tool? A weapon? Or something else entirely?
The hum in his chest grew louder, and for a moment, he felt that presence again—not just curious now, but probing, like it was testing him. A faint image flashed in his mind: a vast, dark void, filled with countless spheres, each pulsing with light. It wasn't a memory, not exactly, but a glimpse of something ancient, something tied to his soul. He gasped, cutting off the soul power, and the sphere vanished. He fell back, panting, his head spinning.
"Too much," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. His body ached, but it wasn't as bad as yesterday. He was getting better at controlling it, but he was still nowhere near understanding it. And that vision—what was that? A clue to his soul's origin? Or just his imagination running wild?
A creak from the barn door made him jump. He spun around, expecting Old Mei or a curious villager, but no one was there. Just the wind, he told himself, but his pulse didn't slow. He needed to be more careful. If Spirit Hall caught him experimenting like this, they'd have questions he couldn't answer.
As he left the barn, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. The village felt quieter now, the excitement of the ceremony fading into routine. But for Chen Yu, nothing felt routine. His martial soul was a mystery, Spirit Hall was watching, and something in the forest had set his nerves on edge. He needed answers, and he needed them fast.
Back at the orphanage, he ate his dinner in silence, ignoring Liang Hao's chatter. Tomorrow, training would begin, and with it, Spirit Hall's scrutiny. He had to stay one step ahead, to learn his soul's secrets before they did. As he lay on his mat that night, the hum in his chest pulsed softly, a reminder that his new life was just beginning—and it was already more dangerous than he'd ever imagined.