Mu Yuan died on an ordinary evening.
There was no grand farewell, no heroic moment—only screeching brakes, a flash of headlights, and the strange, weightless feeling of falling into darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was a child.
At first, he thought it was a dream.
Soft hands carried him. Warm voices called his name. A woman with silver-white hair and gentle ruby eyes sang beside his bed. A man with calm blue eyes laughed while holding him high in the air.
He did not understand their language.
But he understood their love.
Days became months. Months became years. Memories of his old life slowly returned like mist lifting from a river.
He remembered a modern world of cities and noise, endless work and rushing crowds.
And he remembered dying.
Mu Yuan knew one thing clearly.
He had been reborn.
By the time he was four years old, he understood more.
His new home was called Ancient Wood Village, a quiet place surrounded by forests and herb fields. Every house grew plants. Every family knew medicine. The air smelled of leaves and earth.
And his family… his family was warm.
His grandfather Mu Qingshan told stories of ancient trees and spirit beasts. His grandmother Lin Yaozhi taught him herbs and letters. His father Mu Qinglin carried him on herb-collecting trips. His mother Su Wanqing hummed songs while drying medicine leaves.
They called him Little Tree.
Mu Yuan did not know when he started loving that name.
One evening, everything changed.
Mu Yuan woke from a nap and walked into the courtyard.
His parents were practicing.
Green light surrounded them. Three glowing rings floated around his father. Two rings around his mother. Leaves rustled though there was no wind.
Mu Yuan froze.
He knew those rings.
Soul Rings.
This was Douluo Continent.
Mu Yuan stood quietly, watching.
His father's martial soul was a willow tree of blue-green light. His mother's was a silver orchid shining softly in her palm. Soul power flowed like living energy.
Mu Yuan's heart beat faster.
He had truly been reborn into the world of Soul Masters.
That night, Mu Yuan could not sleep.
He remembered stories of spirit beasts, sect wars, and god inheritances from his old life's knowledge.
But when he looked at his sleeping parents, he made a decision.
In this life, he would protect his family.
No matter what.
Days passed quietly after that.
Mu Yuan began learning more from his grandmother. He read herb books with small careful fingers. He watched his grandfather prepare medicines for village children. He followed his father to Frostwood City's herb market.
Everywhere they went, people greeted his family warmly.
Mu Yuan understood something important.
Strength was not only in battle.
It was also in kindness, knowledge, and trust.
At night, he liked to sleep in the herb garden.
The smell of leaves calmed him.
Sometimes he lay beneath the old willow tree and stared at the stars.
He did not know what kind of martial soul he would awaken.
He did not know if he would become strong.
But he knew one thing.
This life was precious.
And he would grow carefully.
Like a tree.
Under the quiet night sky, Mu Yuan closed his eyes.
Somewhere far away, fate began to move.
The roots of a world were about to awaken.