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This was the Douluo Continent—a world without qi cultivation or magic, only the wondrous and diverse martial souls. Yet to cultivate a martial soul, one first needed to undergo the sacred awakening ritual.
Ever since the fall of the Martial Soul Empire ten thousand years ago, the authority to conduct martial soul awakenings had passed into the hands of the noble houses, sects, and academies of the surviving empires. And participation in such a ritual came at a price—typically paid in gold soul coins…
Gu Yun City, Song Manor.
In a modest town within the Tian Hun Empire, the Song family reigned supreme—its patriarch a Soul Saint in power, unmatched by any in the region. Naturally, the right to perform martial soul awakenings for commoners had fallen squarely into their hands.
It was high noon, and the scorching sun had left even the manor's gatekeeper too weary to open his eyes. As a tearful child shuffled out of the estate, a lazy, utterly unsympathetic voice drawled, "Next one—ten gold soul coins."
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sharp tap of the gatekeeper's pipe against the wooden collection box echoed through the air. The next child hurriedly fumbled out ten gold soul coins and dropped them in. Hope, hesitation, and nervousness flickered across the boy's face in rapid succession. Then, under the gatekeeper's impatient glare, he dashed inside.
Less than a minute later—
"Martial soul: Sickle. Innate soul power: none."
A voice from within the manor sealed the child's fate. A murmur rippled through the waiting line. So far, only one child had awakened with innate soul power—Level Three—earning him the chance to become a soul master.
At the manor gates, the gatekeeper merely sighed, unsurprised. After all, it was exceedingly rare for a commoner to awaken with any soul power at all. In his eyes, most peasants wasted ten gold soul coins on a ritual that led nowhere.
Ignoring the growing chatter behind him, he tapped his pipe again. "Next."
The boy standing just ahead of the line tightened his grip on a small cloth pouch. Dressed in simple hemp robes, his snow-white hair contrasted sharply with his delicate, refined features. His heart pounded like ocean waves—unsteady, turbulent—as the moment of his own awakening drew near.
Six years had passed since he'd been struck by a truck and reborn into this era of the Unrivaled Tang Sect. In this world, he'd started life as an orphan outside Shanyang Village—nameless, parentless. The villagers, moved by compassion, had raised him together. They gave him a name but no surname: "Junting."
Now that he'd reached the age of awakening, the entire village—without burdening their own meager livelihoods—had pooled their savings to gather ten gold soul coins. With that, they sent him alone to Gu Yun City, to the Song Manor, for his one chance at destiny.
In Shanyang Village—and indeed, in most rural communities—people held a grim belief: their children's martial souls would inevitably mirror those of their ancestors—useless, powerless, and unworthy of cultivation. Why waste ten gold soul coins on a martial soul that could never become a soul master? After all, a single gold soul coin could support an ordinary family for a full month. Ten? That was a fortune.
But Junting wasn't born of their blood. To the villagers, that meant he might—just might—have a chance.
And if so, they'd help however they could.
Carrying their hopes on his shoulders, Junting's thoughts swirled. 'What will my martial soul be?'
'Sniff… sniff…'
A soft sob pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to see the girl who'd been ahead of him sprinting out of the manor, tears streaming down her face. Another child denied a future as a soul master.
But right now, he had no time to dwell on others.
"Next."
At the call, Junting stepped forward without hesitation, placing his pouch into the wooden box. Following the gatekeeper's pipe-pointed direction, he walked into the estate.
Soon, he stopped before the first door.
"Come in."
Inside, four soul rings—white, two yellows, and one purple—were the first things he saw, orbiting a soul master in full martial soul manifestation. The bold "王" mark on the man's forehead confirmed it: his martial soul was of the tiger lineage, and his strength was clearly formidable.
'A beast-type Soul Ancestor is personally conducting awakenings?' Junting noted inwardly.
"Hurry up! Don't just stand there gawking."
The heat, combined with the long procession of children, had clearly frayed the soul master's patience.
Junting didn't dare delay. "Yes, sir."
He quickly stepped inside and stood at the center of a hexagram formed by six black stones. Only then did the Soul Ancestor truly 'see' him—for the first time.
Snow-white hair. An air of quiet elegance. Unusually composed for a child on the brink of destiny.
"Extend your right hand," the soul master said, his tone now softer.
Six streams of soul power flowed into the black stones. A pale golden light bloomed, and a warm, gentle current washed over Junting's body.
'Is this… soul power?'
In that instant, everything felt different.
Instinctively, he followed the path of the warmth as it coursed through him—until it gathered, pulsing, in his right palm.
The Soul Ancestor's eyes widened slightly. From years of conducting awakenings, he could sense it: something extraordinary was about to emerge.
Bzzz—!
Before the sword's hum fully faded, the Soul Ancestor's pupils contracted sharply. A vast, overwhelming killing intent crashed over him—ancient, majestic, and terrifyingly pure.
It couldn't harm him, yet it sent a chill down his spine.
Hovering above Junting's right hand was a longsword of crystalline clarity, its entire blade a luminous azure, as if carved from living ice.
The source of that killing aura was unmistakable.
"This martial soul… why does it look so familiar?"
The Soul Ancestor scoured his memory, frustration mounting. He 'knew' this sword—he just couldn't recall its name.
Unnoticed by the soul master, Junting stared at his own martial soul, eyes alight with disbelief and elation.
'This sword…'
'Could it be… the Seven Kill Sword!?'
If his martial soul truly was the legendary "Number One Offensive Weapon Soul" from ten thousand years ago… then his future—
Hmm!
First, let's set a small goal: Level 97—Super Douluo.
"Never mind," the Soul Ancestor finally sighed, stealing a subtle glance at the screen behind him. "I can't recall the name of your martial soul, but I'll tell you this—it's undeniably powerful."
He gently interrupted Junting, who was still lost in awe of his own soul.
"Focus now. Use your will to retract your martial soul, then test your innate soul power. Given the caliber of your martial soul, as long as your innate level isn't poor, becoming a Soul Douluo might not be out of reach."
As he guided Junting through recalling his martial soul, he handed him a blue crystal orb.
The moment Junting's palm touched the sphere, a powerful suction pulled at his core. Energy surged within him—and brilliant blue light began to spread from the orb.
In the blink of an eye, the crystal blazed like a radiant gem, dazzling and pure.
"Innate Full Soul Power!"
The Soul Ancestor's eyes bulged. He didn't even notice how his voice—once indifferent—had transformed into one of stunned reverence.
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