The faint echo of his breakthrough to Rank 10 still lingered in Situ Xuan's ears, a hum of success that should have brought peace. But suddenly, the world began to spin.
The moonlight, which had been slanting peacefully through the window, twisted violently. The beams of light contorted into spiraling ribbons, warping the space around him. On the wall, the old mechanical clock let out a jarring ka-ka sound. Its hands, which had been ticking forward methodically, shuddered and began to rotate counter-clockwise, spinning faster and faster until they were a blur.
The sensation was nauseating. Although Situ Xuan knew he was sitting cross-legged on his floor maintaining his meditation posture, his senses told him a different story. He felt weightless. He was falling—not downward, but sinking continuously into an indescribable depth, pulled by a force he couldn't resist.
Is this... meditation deviation?
The thought flashed through his mind, accompanied by a spike of alarm. Cultivation deviation was a nightmare for any Spirit Master; one wrong move could cripple him forever.
But just as panic began to set in, the sensation of falling abruptly ceased.
Situ Xuan blinked. The familiar wooden floor and peeling walls of his home were gone.
His vision cleared to reveal a pure white space. There were no walls, no ceiling, and no horizon. It was an infinite void, as if a giant hand had bleached the color out of the entire universe. Situ Xuan tentatively moved his fingers, then his arms. His body responded freely. He stamped his foot, but there was no sound, and the "ground" beneath him offered no tactile sensation.
The air was thick with a peculiar scent—the smell of fresh ink, sharp and earthy, as if a master calligrapher had just finished a masterpiece right next to him.
Click.
A crisp, metallic sound echoed from behind him.
Situ Xuan spun around. Floating about three meters away was a massive bronze book. It was astonishingly large, roughly the size of a door panel, and glowed with the greenish-blue patina of ancient, oxidized metal.
The pages of the book were turning automatically, creating a rhythmic rustling sound like wind moving through dry leaves. With every page that turned, small flakes of copper peeled away from the spine. As they drifted down, they transformed into wisps of green smoke and dissipated into the white void.
"Is this an illusion caused by my Spirit awakening?" Situ Xuan frowned, his guard up.
He walked closer to the floating artifact. As the distance between them shortened, details became clearer. Seven oddly shaped chains were wrapped tightly around the book's cover, sealing it shut—or they would have, had the central chain not been snapped. The links of each chain were engraved with the heads of different beasts, their expressions twisted in roars. The broken central chain reflected a cold, scattered light from the fracture point.
When Situ Xuan stood just half a meter away, the rustling stopped. The book froze open.
The page on the left was blank, pristine and unwritten. However, the page on the right bore eight characters written in cinnabar, as red as fresh blood:
Cultivate martial arts with sincerity, follow your original heart.
The calligraphy was unsettling. It didn't look like normal writing. The horizontal and vertical strokes concealed fine, serrated edges, and the ends of the sweeps carried sharp barbs. It looked less like ink and more like living, breathing weapons pressed onto the page.
"Putting on airs," Situ Xuan muttered, unimpressed by the theatrical display.
He reached out. His fingertip brushed against the rough surface of the paper.
Boom!
The entire book trembled violently. On the previously blank left page, golden light erupted. Dense lines of small golden characters began to carve themselves into the paper, deepening as if etched by an invisible blade.
Beneath the fist, clouds and wind sweep the vast wilderness, a body of righteousness stands firm in the boundless expanse. Ten years sharpening the sword, the heart remains pure; a hundred battles concealing the edge, the will is naturally resolute.
The instant the poem formed, Situ Xuan's pupils contracted. He had never seen these specific words before, yet his heart constricted violently, as if struck by a heavy war hammer. A profound sense of familiarity and power washed over him.
More terrifyingly, the words refused to stay on the page. Every character left a searing afterimage on his retina. Even when he looked away, the golden characters remained suspended in his vision, forming a three-dimensional curtain of light that pulsed with energy.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Three sharp, snapping sounds echoed through the void.
On the book cover, three more chains shattered under the pressure. The massive tome suddenly flew higher into the air, its pages turning at a speed that blurred the vision.
This time, it wasn't copper flakes that fell. Dense black characters peeled off the paper, liquefying as they hit the air. They solidified into a stream of ink-like substance, swirling aggressively.
Situ Xuan tried to step back, sensing danger, but he couldn't move. Ink-colored chains had erupted from the ground without warning, wrapping tightly around his ankles.
"Get lost!"
Situ Xuan roared, subconsciously swinging his fist at the chains. His hand passed harmlessly through the phantom restraints.
At that moment, the flood of characters surged toward him like a tidal wave.
Right before impact, the foremost ink characters twisted and deformed. They coalesced into two distinct, glowing imprints floating in the air.
On the left was a palm print, black as the deepest night. In its center, seven crimson points of light glowed menacingly.
On the right was a silver-white totem of a fist. Embedded across the knuckles was the unmistakable pattern of the Big Dipper constellation.
Situ Xuan raised his arms to block the incoming projectiles, but physical defense was useless. The two imprints moved like weary birds returning to their nest, deftly bypassing his guard and plunging directly into the space between his eyebrows.
"Ah—!"
An indescribable agony exploded inside his skull. It felt as though his brain was being split apart. Situ Xuan collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as the white space around him began to fracture and collapse.
Memories that were not his own flooded his mind. He saw countless scenes of martial arts practice flashing by in a chaotic montage.
He saw silhouettes of figures in black robes practicing strange, toxic palm techniques under a blood-red moon. He saw slow-motion visions of strong men shattering solid granite with their bare fists. He saw complex maps of meridian circulation routes flashing and intersecting in the void, burning themselves into his memory.
Finally, all the chaotic images collapsed into two streams of light—one black, one silver—swirling endlessly in his consciousness.
Thud.
In the real world, Situ Xuan's body pitched forward and crashed onto the wooden floor.
His arm knocked over a teacup, sending it rolling away. Cold tea spilled across the floor, spreading like a dark stain. Outside the window, a dark cloud drifted over the moon, casting the room into temporary shadow. The mechanical clock on the wall chimed the hour, its hands moving normally once again.
"Cough... cough, cough!"
With a violent fit of coughing, Situ Xuan pushed himself up. His body was trembling.
The cloud passed, and moonlight streamed back into the room, illuminating the beads of cold sweat covering his forehead. Deep in his dark pupils, a faint golden light flickered before fading away. He raised a hand and touched the space between his eyebrows. The skin there was hot, stinging with a subtle burning sensation.
"It wasn't a dream..." he whispered, his voice raspy.
He looked down at his hands. He flexed his fingers. An unfamiliar but potent power seemed to flow through his palm lines, itching to be released.
He closed his eyes and focused. Immediately, two complete martial arts systems appeared in his mind, clear and distinct as if he had practiced them for decades.
One was a set of fierce, unmatched boxing techniques and breathing methods. The other was a set of sinister, vicious palm techniques and cultivation routes. They were branded into his instincts.
Outside, the screech of fighting stray cats broke the silence of the night. Situ Xuan turned his head to look out the window.
The outline of Aolai City was blurred beneath the moonlight. In the distance, the spire of the Spirit Pagoda glimmered faintly, a beacon of power in the quiet city.
Situ Xuan slowly clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked crisply, the sound loud in the empty room.
"This is interesting."
The young boy's lips curled into a cold, confident arc. The golden light in his eyes vanished completely, leaving behind a gaze as deep and dark as an abyss.
He recognized these techniques from his memories of his previous life.
The Black Heart Baleful Palm. It was the signature technique of the main villain, Black Heart Tiger, from the animated series Rainbow Cat and Blue Rabbit: Seven Legends. It consisted of twelve levels, and the destructive power of each level was catastrophic.
The Big Dipper Divine Fist. This was the legendary assassination art practiced by Kenshiro, the protagonist of the manga Fist of the North Star. It was a technique that tempered the physique and sharpened the will. It utilized emotions to fuel power—the more intense the rage or sorrow, the stronger the strike. Combined with acupoint striking, its applications were limitless.
Obtaining such a miraculous encounter made Situ Xuan's blood boil with excitement.
The Big Dipper Divine Fist offered endless potential for human body development. It was the perfect complement to his Spirit—his own body.
The Black Heart Baleful Palm, on the other hand, solved his most immediate problem. It provided him with a powerful cultivation method, replacing the trash "Basic Meditation Method" he had been forced to use.
However, despite his eagerness to begin training immediately, there was one crucial step he had to take first.
He needed a Soul Spirit.
The Sun Moon Empire had unified the Douluo Continent thousands of years ago, eventually renaming itself the Sun Moon Federation. Throughout this history, one organization had stood above the rest: the Spirit Pagoda.
Founded ten thousand years ago by the legendary Spirit Ice Douluo, Huo Yuhao, the Spirit Pagoda controlled the creation and distribution of artificial Soul Spirits. This monopoly made them one of the most powerful forces across the three continents.
Aolai City, being a small coastal city, had a modest branch located in the city center. It was a three-story tower-shaped building. In the hierarchy of the Spirit Pagoda, this was the lowest grade. Medium cities boasted seven-story pagodas, while large cities had thirteen. The headquarters in Shrek City was a marvel of engineering, standing eighty-one stories tall and holding the title of the most magnificent building on the Douluo Continent.
Situ Xuan walked alone through the quiet streets toward the city center.
When he arrived, the lobby of the Spirit Pagoda was nearly empty. It was late, and there was hardly anyone there besides the staff on duty.
A Spirit Master dressed in a simple gray robe looked up from behind the counter. Seeing a young boy enter alone, he stood up and spoke gently.
"Little friend, what are you doing here at this hour? Are your parents nearby?"
Situ Xuan walked up to the counter. He looked youthful, but his eyes were calm and mature beyond his years. He didn't waste time with small talk.
"I am here to purchase a Soul Spirit," Situ Xuan said concisely.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a Federation Card, placing it on the counter. "There are thirty thousand credits on this card. I want to buy a random white-level Soul Spirit."
The Spirit Master blinked in surprise. He looked at the card, then back at the boy. Thirty thousand credits was the standard fee for a random draw—the cheapest and riskiest option available.
"Little friend," the Spirit Master said, his tone turning serious. "You must understand the risks. A random extraction is just that—random. You might get a Soul Spirit that is weak, or one that is completely incompatible with your martial soul. At your age, your first Spirit Ring is vital. Are you sure you don't want to wait and save for a specific selection?"
He patiently explained the potential drawbacks, trying to dissuade the boy from making a rash decision.
But this was not an issue for Situ Xuan. He knew the risks, and he didn't care. He had the Big Dipper Divine Fist and the Black Heart Baleful Palm. The quality of the Soul Spirit was secondary to simply unlocking the ability to cultivate further.
"I understand. Please proceed," Situ Xuan insisted calmly.
Seeing the boy's unwavering determination, the Spirit Master sighed and nodded. After performing a quick Mental Force test to ensure Situ Xuan had reached the required threshold, he led the boy to a metal device in the corner of the room.
It looked remarkably similar to a capsule toy machine or a lottery machine from Situ Xuan's previous life. Inside the glass dome, dozens of small, glowing spheres swirled around, each containing a dormant Soul Spirit.
Efficiency. That was all that mattered.
Situ Xuan was weak. He could not afford to waste time earning more money for a better pick. Rather than worrying about a defective Soul Spirit, it was better to finish the selection now, return home, and immediately begin cultivating his new martial arts.
A confident smile naturally appeared on Situ Xuan's face. He stepped up to the machine, placed his hand on the console, and pressed the green extraction button without a shred of hesitation.