Outside Nuoding City, in a small place called Lone Grass Village.
It was early morning. The rising sun cast a gentle warmth like a fresh face wash. A light breeze stirred, while white clouds drifted lazily across the sky.
"Children, follow Uncle inside."
In the village square, in front of a pointed wooden building with a triangular roof and a sword emblem above the door, an old man leaned on his cane and turned to face a line of children. His face was kind and gentle.
"Yes, Grandpa Village Chief!" the children answered obediently.
Seeing this, a middle-aged man at the old man's side smiled and nodded. "Everyone, keep up." He turned, pushed open the door, and went straight inside.
The children filed in behind him, circling around the elder in an orderly fashion.
The line moved slowly. Overhead, clouds drifted on the morning wind. Shadows spread quickly across the ground, and the world dimmed.
"Boom!" Without warning, a blinding bolt of lightning tore through the sky, followed by deafening thunder.
"It's thundering!"
With a sharp scream, a boy collapsed to the ground, leaving behind a charred black mark.
"Boss! Xiao Hai!" cries rang out as children jumped aside in alarm.
The voices were full of worry, the reactions entirely honest.
"No way, lightning out of nowhere!" Villagers nearby were just as stunned, instinctively stepping back. All eyes turned toward the scene. The boy lay face down on the ground, his legs still trembling.
He didn't seem completely gone.
"Boom!" A second bolt struck. The boy's body jerked violently, then fell still.
"Is Xiao Hai dead?" a villager muttered.
"Probably not. Hasn't he been struck by lightning before?" a woman answered uncertainly.
Everyone voiced their thoughts, but no one dared approach.
The clouds churned, the breeze stirred, and sunlight broke through in bright shafts that lit up the boy's body.
Two seconds passed. No third strike came.
"Phew!" The middle-aged man darted forward like lightning, scooped the boy up by the belt like an eagle snatching a chick, and ran into the building.
Moments later, his relieved voice echoed from inside: "Xiao Hai just fainted. Everyone, come in."
"I told you, Boss is lucky. He'll be fine!" The children outside brightened immediately, quick to play the know-it-all.
"Children, come inside," the old man said, his own expression softening, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. 'Maybe Xiao Hai will awaken a good Martial Soul after all', he thought, stepping in.
The children lined up again and entered in an orderly fashion.
Soon, inside the spacious hall, the kids stood in a neat row. At the front, the middle-aged man stood straight. To the left, on a wooden bench, the boy who had been struck by lightning lay unconscious, while the white-haired elder sat beside him.
One by one, the man's voice sounded:
"Blue Silver Grass. No soul power."
"Broom. No soul power."
Each time, another child walked away in disappointment.
"Boss will definitely awaken a good Martial Soul," one of the children whispered, glancing at the boy on the bench.
The boy's skin was a bit dark, his features sharp. Not handsome, but not ugly either.
Hearing this, the elder looked down at him.
This boy was Yang Yunhai. Years ago, when the old man still served as a deacon of the Martial Soul Hall in Nuoding City, he had found the child abandoned outside the city under a poplar tree, with clouds filling the sky like a sea. He named him "Yunhai" (Cloud Sea) and brought him to Lone Grass Village's orphanage.
The name "Lone Grass" carried meaning: children would grow as strong and resilient as Blue Silver Grass. "Lone" referred to orphans. This was a village for abandoned children, once just Nuoding City's orphanage, later growing into a small village as orphans grew up and settled nearby.
The elder himself had been an orphan. At six, he awakened a Longbow Martial Soul and had 2 ranks of innate soul power. Though he never surpassed Rank 29 to become a Soul Elder, he had joined the Martial Soul Hall as a deacon, protected the orphanage, and helped children awaken their Martial Souls. At sixty, he retired and became village chief and orphanage director.
Yang Yunhai had been the last child he picked up before retiring.
The boy was peculiar. For some unknown reason, whenever he went out on rainy days, he was always struck by lightning. To protect him and the other children, the elder forbade him from leaving the house when the sky was dark. But weather changed fast. Sometimes lightning fell even on a clear day, just like earlier. Over six years, Yunhai had been struck dozens of times.
Yet each time, he survived—just unconscious for a while, then bouncing back full of life.
This gave the elder hope. Perhaps the boy carried a special lightning-attribute Martial Soul. Maybe not as great as the famed Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon of the Upper Three Sects, but still powerful.
Why lightning? Because he had investigated Yunhai's past.
The boy had been abandoned by his family. He was born on a stormy night when lightning split an ancient tree in two and set the roof aflame. Though rain put out the fire, his family and villagers saw him as a cursed child and left him outside Nuoding.
Though his parents' Martial Souls were only Bamboo and Blue Silver Grass with no soul power, the elder believed the boy might have mutated.
He taught Yunhai soul master lore alongside his own grandson. He even let him read a soul beast compendium recorded by his son, who worked in the Martial Soul Hall's law enforcement team. Yunhai absorbed it all eagerly. Not only could he read at a young age, but he turned the soul beast entries into bedtime monster tales, delighting the other children.
Because of this, Yunhai won admiration from his peers, easing the elder's burden.
He decided to tell the boy about his origins only when he grew older. Being abandoned by his parents was too heavy a blow for a child.
Back in the hall, the Martial Soul Awakening ceremony continued. Child after child failed to awaken a Martial Soul with soul power.
At last, only two children remained. On the bench, Yunhai stirred and let out a weak groan.
"Xiao Hai, how do you feel?" the elder asked.
"I'm fine, Grandpa Tai. Just a bit numb." He raised his right arm with effort. His dark skin was laced with thin red lines, like a spiderweb.
These were lightning scars. Each strike left behind patterns on his skin, as if blood vessels had been pricked by needles. He knew them well—Lichtenberg figures.
In his past life, he had been an electrician, a college graduate who ran a struggling repair shop. He knew what lightning could do. The scars were permanent. His body bore dozens, though thankfully none on his face. He kept his hair long to cover the ones on his neck and forehead.
Most strikes hit his back. He never knew why.
But surviving so many times only convinced him further. This world had soul power, Martial Souls, and perhaps his body hid a thunder-attribute Martial Soul. After all, he had died once—struck by lightning in his past life—only to wake up here, in the very novel he once loved.
As a teenager, he had been a diehard fan. Later, rereading as an adult, he grew critical, even mocking it online as "Tang Sect's senior brother," nitpicking every detail. Still, he remembered everything.
So, if his soul had carried a trace of lightning, wasn't that just cliché transmigration logic?
If so, it all made sense. He wasn't just unlucky. He was different.
"That's good." The village chief's voice cut into his thoughts. "The ceremony is almost done. Rest a while longer. You'll be the last."
"Yes, Grandpa Tai." Yunhai nodded respectfully.
Changgong Tai, the chief of Lone Grass Village and orphanage director, was someone he deeply admired.
Soon, the last two children awakened as well, but neither had soul power.
"Xiao Hai, it's your turn." The elder's voice carried expectation.
(End of Chapter)
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