Old Friend

Old Friend

Douluo Continent, southwest of the Heaven Dou Empire, Fasinuo Province, the back mountain of Tingquan Village.

After the rain, the mountain air was filled with the fresh scent of earth. Damp bamboo leaves swayed gently in the breeze, rustling softly. A small figure darted through the bamboo grove, wearing a conical hat and holding a little hoe, intently digging for something. It was a child, his young face bearing a hint of dissatisfaction as he muttered, "Damn old man. All he did was tell my fortune, yet he sent me to this godforsaken place. I even have to come up the mountain to find my own breakfast."

Though his movements were childish, his gaze was exceptionally focused. Every swing of the hoe determined whether he would fill his stomach that day. Before long, he carefully unearthed a tender bamboo shoot and casually tossed it into the basket on his back. The child wiped the sweat from his forehead, sat on a clean rock, and began peeling the shoot.

Suddenly, his hands paused. A trace of worry, utterly unfitting for his age, appeared on his young face. He raised his head to gaze at the distant sky, his eyes filled with confusion and contemplation.

"Zither's Song Breaks Tribulation, the Eight Trigrams stabilize fortune... What exactly did that old man mean?" he murmured, as though speaking to himself.

His name was Feng Yao. He had originally been a music teacher skilled in the guqin. One day, while passing beneath an overpass after work, he had been stopped by an old man who claimed he would tell his fortune for free. Feng Yao had never believed in such things, but out of politeness, he had patiently listened to the old man. The man's words had been cryptic and mystical, yet the eight words "Zither's Song Breaks Tribulation, the Eight Trigrams stabilize fortune" had engraved themselves deeply into his mind.

Yet after returning home and sleeping, he had opened his eyes to find that he had become an infant. At first, he had thought it was a dream, as illusory as Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly. But the dream had lasted six years, and he still had not awakened. Gradually, he had no choice but to accept reality—he had transmigrated.

From childhood, he had been raised by the villagers of Tingquan Village. When he saw the villagers summon tools from thin air and use them for labor, he realized that he had arrived in an extraordinary world. Several years later, once he could speak fluently, he finally confirmed the world he was in—Douluo Continent.

It was the setting of a novel he had read years ago. The wondrous world of cultivation depicted in its pages had fascinated him deeply. Now that he had found himself in it personally, the arrangement of fate left him both helpless and faintly expectant.

After peeling the bamboo shoot, Feng Yao slowly assumed a stance in a clearing among the mountains and began practicing the Eight Brocades. His movements were somewhat youthful, yet they carried steadiness and focus. His breathing and motions worked together perfectly, as though he had merged with the surrounding nature.

Feng Yao had been in this world for six years, and over those six years, he had carefully observed every detail of it. He had personally witnessed nearly seventy children undergo Martial Soul awakening, yet regrettably, not a single person in Tingquan Village had become a Spirit Master. The result left Feng Yao helpless, but it also inspired deeper thought.

Setting aside Martial Souls, the greatest determining factor, he began searching for answers from other angles. His attention was not limited to children about to awaken their Martial Souls. He also observed adults who had awakened Martial Souls but possessed no Soul Power, as well as the village elders. Gradually, he discovered some unusual phenomena.

Most of the village elders lived long lives. Although their living conditions were far from ideal and medical care was nowhere near as advanced as in his previous life, they remained remarkably robust. When adults used their Martial Souls for labor, they did not expend much strength, yet they possessed far greater power than Feng Yao had in his previous life. These phenomena reminded him of Tang San cultivating the Mysterious Heaven Skill before awakening his Martial Soul in the original story. Everything seemed to suggest that this world was filled with abundant free-floating energy.

Feng Yao had always believed that energy was conserved in any world. Therefore, he came to the back mountain every day. On one hand, he searched for mountain produce to ensure that he consumed enough nutrition. On the other hand, climbing the mountain itself was exercise. More importantly, he firmly believed that, before awakening Soul Power and gaining the ability to cultivate directly, the free-floating energy of heaven and earth might be absorbed into his body through breathing.

And the Eight Brocades were precisely the breakthrough he had found. It had also been one of Feng Yao's elective courses at university.

This ancient health-preserving exercise emphasized coordination between bodily movement and breathing, which perfectly suited his needs. In hopes of possessing Soul Power when his Martial Soul awakened, Feng Yao placed his hopes on this daily practice. Though the road ahead was unknown, this was all he could do for now.

Feng Yao breathed steadily, his movements relaxed and fluid, as though he had blended into the natural world around him. Just as he prepared for the next movement, a dry, hoarse, somewhat urgent voice came from afar. "Boy Feng, quit playing around! The Spirit Master is almost here!"

Feng Yao turned and saw a hunched figure waving to him from nearby. It was Shi Yi, the village chief of Tingquan Village, an elderly yet kindly old man. As village chief, Shi Yi had always taken good care of Feng Yao, and Feng Yao was deeply grateful to him.

"Grandpa Shi, I'm coming!" Feng Yao called back, excitement and anticipation in his young voice. He quickly slung the bamboo basket onto his back and ran toward the old man.

It was recently the time when Spirit Hall sent Spirit Masters to awaken the Martial Souls of children of the proper age in villages near Nuoding City. Though the Spirit Hall's Spirit Masters did not arrive at a fixed time, Feng Yao knew that every spring, they would come as promised, bringing hope to villages like Tingquan Village.

The small figure soon reached the old man. Feng Yao reached out and took Shi Yi's slightly withered hand, saying softly, "Grandpa Shi, let's go."

Feeling the warmth in Feng Yao's palm, the old man's clouded gaze fell upon him. A loving smile appeared on his wrinkled face. He lightly tapped Feng Yao's forehead, his tone indulgent. "You little glutton, you went to the back mountain to gather mountain produce again? The Spirit Master will be here soon. If you miss it, you'll have to wait until next year."

"Grandpa, eating more can help me awaken Soul Power," Feng Yao replied with a smile, expectation glimmering in his eyes.

"Oh... Hahaha... All right, all right..." The old man was amused by Feng Yao's words. He smiled and shook his head, taking it as nothing more than a child's innocent wish. Holding Feng Yao's little hand, he slowly headed toward the village.

Feng Yao said nothing more. He simply followed silently at the old man's side, though his heart was already churning with waves. He knew that today might be the crucial moment that changed his fate. Whatever the result, he was ready.

Shi Yi led Feng Yao slowly along the winding mountain road. Gradually, the outline of the village came into view. Wisps of cooking smoke rose into the air, carrying a hint of warmth. The two greeted villagers along the way as they made their way toward the wooden house in the center of the village. This wooden house was the village's "Spirit Hall." Though it had not been built by Spirit Hall itself, the residents of every village would voluntarily join together to construct one. To the villagers, this wooden house might be where Lady Luck descended—the beginning of a change in their fates.

The outer walls of the wooden house had been stained a pale brown by the passage of time. Its roof was covered in thick moss, making it seem simple and weathered. As soon as he approached it, Feng Yao heard the children's chattering discussions inside, full of expectation and nervousness. Shi Yi stopped outside the house with Feng Yao and quietly waited for the Spirit Master's arrival.

Before long, a young man carrying a bundle entered the village. He appeared to be in his twenties, with sharp brows, bright eyes, and handsome features. He wore a fitted white outfit and a black cloak draped over his back. At the center of his chest was an embroidered character for "Soul," the size of a fist. This was the standard attire of Spirit Hall personnel, displaying his status and position.

"Greetings, esteemed Battle Soul Grandmaster. We must trouble you again this time." Shi Yi bowed slightly and respectfully saluted the young man. Feng Yao also supported Shi Yi and followed with a bow.

The young man looked proud and merely nodded in return. A trace of impatience colored his voice. "My time is limited. Let's begin quickly."

"Spirit Master, this way." Shi Yi promptly replied and led Feng Yao as he invited the young man into the wooden house.

Watching the young man's retreating figure enter slowly, Feng Yao's face showed a hint of puzzlement. This young man had come to the village for four consecutive years and seemed to be the Spirit Master responsible for this area, yet he had never revealed his name or interacted much with the villagers. An air of mystery surrounded him.

When Shi Yi brought the young man into the wooden house, the previously noisy children immediately fell silent. They consciously formed a line, their eyes filled with expectation and unease. Shi Yi glanced at Feng Yao, slowly walked to the edge of the line, then hunched over as he exited the wooden house, seemingly afraid of disturbing this important ceremony.

The young man frowned, and a trace of disdain flashed across his face. He swiftly opened the bundle in his hands and began arranging a hexagonal formation of black stones on the floor. The wooden house was normally unused. Only on the day of Martial Soul awakening would the villagers voluntarily clean it, so the air was filled with a faint smell of moldy wood.

Feng Yao's gaze settled on the black stones, and his little hands clenched involuntarily. He was both nervous and expectant. He knew that in this world, where Martial Souls determined everything, he would soon glimpse his own fate.

"When I call your name, stand at the center of this formation." The young man spoke coldly, without a trace of warmth in his voice.

The wooden house was dimly lit, with only several beams of sunlight slanting through the windows. Standing amid the shadows, the young man's proud expression made the children feel oppressed. Hearing his words, they nodded timidly. Some of the more fainthearted ones were so frightened that they did not dare respond.

The young man did not care. He simply continued arranging the awakening formation, while Feng Yao watched him curiously.

The young man glanced at Feng Yao without saying anything. Then, with a wave of one hand and a low shout, a pitch-black iron sword appeared from thin air in his grasp. The blade gleamed with a cold metallic sheen. Along with the iron sword's appearance, a white and a yellow Spirit Ring emerged around him, and the atmosphere in the wooden house became even more solemn.

Seeing the young man's Martial Soul, Feng Yao understood. No wonder the young man seemed so cold. In the course of continually cultivating one's Martial Soul, the Martial Soul could also greatly affect a person's personality.

"Begin," the young man said indifferently.

As the first child slowly entered the awakening formation, the wooden house sometimes flared with dazzling light and sometimes fell back into darkness. The children stepped forward one after another to receive fate's judgment.

"A hoe... Let's test your Soul Power... No Soul Power... You cannot become a Spirit Master..."

"Blue Silver Grass? There's no need to test you. A useless Martial Soul has no Soul Power."

"Wooden hammer... sunflower... palm-leaf fan... broom..."

One child after another returned to the line with dejected expressions, their faces filled with disappointment and helplessness. Feng Yao watched the scene with countless emotions stirring in his heart. No matter the world, changing one's fate was an exceptionally difficult thing.

"Next." The young man seemed exhausted from repeatedly activating the awakening formation, and a hint of impatience entered his voice.

Feng Yao slowly walked into the awakening formation and closed his eyes, as though welcoming the arrival of his fate. Familiar azure light rose around him, and his body was enveloped in a faint glow. A warm sensation surged up from within.

As time passed, the light grew increasingly bright. Feng Yao could clearly feel as though something was about to burst from both of his hands. As his heartbeat accelerated, the sensation became stronger and stronger.

At the sight of that familiar shape, Feng Yao's heart trembled. It was as if a warm current had surged from the depths of his heart and instantly filled his chest.

Very soon, an ancient Seven-stringed Zither slowly appeared before Feng Yao. The lines of its body were smooth, its wooden grain clearly visible. Its strings shimmered faintly in the weak light, as though telling of time's accumulation and old tales.

Feng Yao's gaze fell upon the Seven-stringed Zither in his hand, and for a moment, he was utterly transfixed. His fingertips gently brushed over the strings as he murmured inwardly, "Old friend, I never expected you to come along too..."

Just then, an icy sensation came from his other hand, pulling Feng Yao out of his daze and back to reality. Without showing anything, he slowly moved that hand beneath the zither, as though concealing the turmoil in his heart.

The young man looked at Feng Yao, surprise flashing in his eyes. Though this zither differed greatly from those he usually saw, its neatly arranged strings revealed its identity. On Douluo Continent, musical instruments were not Martial Souls that ordinary families could awaken. Of all the villages he had visited today, this was the first Martial Soul that seemed likely to possess Soul Power. His gaze rested on the Seven-stringed Zither for a moment before he said flatly, "Come."

Feng Yao nodded. Though his heart was turbulent, his face remained calm. He slowly placed his hand on the Blue Crystal Ball before the young man. The instant his fingertips touched it, a slightly cool sensation spread from them.

He lowered his head to look at his Seven-stringed Zither, his heart filled with comfort. He had never hoped to awaken some earth-shattering Martial Soul, because he knew that powerful Martial Souls were often formed only through the inheritance and accumulation of generations of Spirit Masters. To him, the Seven-stringed Zither before him was already the finest gift.

The crystal ball rested quietly in the young man's hand, waiting for Feng Yao's Soul Power to enter it. Feng Yao took a deep breath, his gaze firm, as though he had already prepared himself to face his fate.