Star Luo Empire, Tie Luo Province
Iron Mountain Village
The name Iron Mountain Village sounded plain and unremarkable—yet the village itself was anything but ordinary.
Decades ago, an imperial research team from the Star Luo Empire discovered a massive iron vein hidden deep within the surrounding mountain range. The quantity of iron was so astonishing that the news quickly reached the imperial court. An imperial decree soon followed, ordering the Governor of Tie Luo Province to begin large-scale mining without delay.
Miners arrived in droves, accompanied by their families. To house them, the governor established a settlement at the foot of the mountains—thus Iron Mountain Village was born.
Time passed.
What began as a temporary mining settlement gradually transformed into a true village. Nearly two hundred families now lived here. Two generations had already grown old within its borders, and the third generation was beginning to emerge.
Today, however, the village was unusually tense.
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…
In front of a house noticeably larger than the rest stood a middle-aged man with a burly frame. He paced back and forth restlessly, his brows tightly furrowed.
He was Tyson, the current village chief of Iron Mountain Village.
Under normal circumstances, Tyson was a fearless man. As the only Soul Master in the entire village, he possessed soul power at Rank 19, just one step away from becoming a Spirit Grandaster. His martial soul—Iron Pickaxe, a tool-type martial soul—made him virtually invincible among ordinary villagers.
Yet today, that fearless demeanor was nowhere to be seen.
His anxiety was obvious.
And he wasn't the only one.
The villagers understood his unease well, because they shared it.
Today was a special day—one of the most important days in the life of any child and parent on the Douluo Continent.
Today was Martial Spirit Awakening Day.
Every person on the continent was born with a martial spirit. When a child reached the age of six, a Spirit Hall envoy would arrive to awaken it using an Awakening Stone. However, awakening a martial spirit did not guarantee a path to cultivation.
Only those who awakened innate soul power could cultivate.
And among a hundred children, perhaps one would succeed.
The rest would live ordinary lives—bound to labor, fields, or mines.
For parents, this day carried hope, fear, and desperation in equal measure.
So the nervousness was only natural.
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…
"Aiyah… why hasn't the Spirit Hall envoy arrived yet?" Tyson muttered, glancing anxiously down the dirt road leading into the village. "It's almost time."
His gaze then shifted toward a small group of children standing nearby—eleven six-year-olds, gathered together, watching him with curiosity and anticipation.
"Uncle Tai," one boy asked impatiently, scratching his head, "when will we awaken our martial spirits? This is boring."
Tyson froze for a moment, then forced out an awkward laugh.
"Hahaha… soon, soon. Just be patient."
But as his eyes swept across the group, something felt wrong.
"Xiao Ling," he called out.
A young girl stepped forward from the group, her braids swaying gently.
"Yes, Uncle Tai?" she asked.
"Where is Xiao Lu?" Tyson asked, his voice lowering slightly.
"Oh!" Xiao Ling replied with a small smile. "He said he'd come after finishing his work."
Tyson's brows tightened.
"Aiyah! I told him yesterday to come early…" he muttered under his breath.
Then his expression darkened.
It's only been two days since his mother passed away…
Such an unlucky child…
After a brief hesitation, Tyson straightened his back.
"Alright, you children wait here," he said firmly. "If the Spirit Hall envoy arrives before I return, tell him to wait."
With that, he turned and hurried off toward the edge of the village.
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…
…
Inside a small, humble house—
A child knelt silently on the cold floor.
Before him stood a simple wooden table. On it rested a spirit tablet, flanked by a small incense burner holding three slowly burning sticks. Thin trails of smoke curled upward, filling the room with a faint, bitter scent.
The name engraved on the tablet read:
Lu Ling
The kneeling child was Xiao Lu.
His real name was Lu Tianming, but everyone in the village called him Xiao Lu.
Five years ago, he and his mother had arrived at Iron Mountain Village as outsiders. At that time, he was only a one-year-old infant, clutched tightly in his mother's arms.
She had been alone, poor, and sickly.
The villagers, moved by pity, accepted them.
But as the years passed, her health worsened day by day.
And two days ago, she quietly closed her eyes—never to open them again.
She left without a sound.
Leaving Xiao Lu alone in the world.
Kneeling before the tablet, Xiao Lu spoke softly.
"Why did you leave me…?"
His voice was calm—too calm.
"Why didn't you take me with you?"
His fists clenched slowly against the floor.
"You always knew I can't live without you… so why?"
His words were heartbreaking.
Yet his face remained expressionless.
If an outsider witnessed this scene, they might think he was pretending. But the villagers knew the truth.
Since childhood, Xiao Lu had never been good at expressing emotions.
He had no friends.
His entire world had been his mother.
And now… even that world was gone.
The silence in the room felt suffocating.
Suddenly—
"Xiao Lu! Xiao Lu!"
A loud voice shattered the stillness.
"Come with me! Did you forget about Martial Spirit Awakening?"
Tyson stood at the doorway, breathless.
Xiao Lu slowly lifted his head.
Looking at the spirit tablet once more, Lu Tianming suppressed the words rising to his lips.
He said nothing.
He bent down and kowtowed three times, each movement slow and solemn. Only then did he rise to his feet. Turning around, he pushed open the wooden door and stepped outside.
The moment Tyson saw him, his breath caught.
Lu Tianming was dressed entirely in white.
A plain white robe.
A white headband tied neatly around his hair.
Against the dull colors of Iron Mountain Village, he stood out sharply—cold, distant, like a fragment of winter that had fallen into the mortal world. His expression was calm, yet his eyes were devoid of warmth, filled only with an endless, bottomless loneliness.
Tyson's heart tightened.
"You brat!" he scolded loudly, masking his unease. "What are you dressed like this for? All in white, looking like a thousand-year glacier! Today is the day you awaken your martial spirit—wear something proper!"
His words were harsh, but he understood.
This was the only way the child knew how to mourn.
Lu Tianming looked at him, his expression unchanged.
"Sorry, Uncle Tai," he said softly. "I won't change these clothes today."
There was no stubbornness in his tone—only quiet resolve.
Tyson opened his mouth, then closed it again. In the end, he could only sigh.
"Fine, fine. If you don't want to change, then don't." He waved his hand impatiently. "But hurry up. The Spirit Hall envoy may have already arrived."
"Mm."
Lu Tianming nodded. He turned back, closed the gate of the house, and stood still for a brief moment—as if sealing away the past behind that door.
Tyson reached out, grasped the boy's hand, and began walking toward the Spirit Temple.
The child's hand was cold.
As they moved forward together, the morning wind brushed past them, carrying away incense smoke—and with it, the last trace of childhood that Lu Tianming had left.