Secondhand is Secondhand

The boisterous congratulations in the delivery room lasted for nearly an hour. After the group of Title Douluo had their fill of excitement and left behind their respective generous gifts, they reluctantly departed one after another under the stern, shooing glares of Gui Mei, who muttered, "Stop making such a racket, you'll wake the child."

Once the mansion returned to silence, Yue Guan leaned against a soft pillow, watching as Gui Mei clumsily tucked the swaddling clothes around Gui Mengguan, his eyes softening until they seemed ready to melt.

"Slow down, don't wake him," Yue Guan whispered in a chiding tone, though there wasn't a hint of reproach in his voice. "I never imagined that the two of us would truly have a day like this."

Gui Mei paused, lowered his head, and pressed a gentle kiss to Yue Guan's forehead, his voice deep and tender. "It is all thanks to the Old Ancestor's blessing, and thanks to you as well. Yue-yue, in this life, having you and having Mengguan is more than enough for me."

"It was worth it!"

He had lived for nearly sixty years and had never felt as secure as he did in this moment. The days of licking blood off the edge of a blade, where everyone avoided them like the plague, had long since become a fading memory. Now, with his partner and child by his side and Martial Soul Hall stable, this was the best ending he could ever imagine.

Lying in the swaddling clothes, Gui Mengguan listened to his parents' tender conversation, his small body stiffening as his mind remained in a state of churning, tumultuous shock.

No matter how absurd his identity seemed, he had no choice but to accept reality.

Yet, from beginning to end, he only considered himself the sole transmigrator in this heavily modified Douluo world.

After all, in his understanding, transmigration was a one-in-a-million miracle; how could it be as common as street trash? He secretly made up his mind: since he was here, he would make the best of it. He would cling tightly to his parents' Martial Soul Hall status, rely on his knowledge of the original plot to avoid the sect's destined tragedy, and live a comfortable life as a top-tier second-generation heir. That would be a life well-lived.

He was completely unaware that in every corner of this continent, there were hundreds of other "visitors from beyond" just like him, all harboring the exact same thought, each believing themselves to be the only one in control of the plot.

Even if this was a second-hand world, he was the one who had come to scavenge the scraps.

Meanwhile, on the main street of Martial Soul City, the group of Title Douluo who had just left the Chrysanthemum-Moon Mansion were still chattering away.

Guang Ling Douluo skipped along at the front, toying with his Glazed Bow, his face full of excitement. "Who would have thought? Not only did Yue Guan become a woman, but he also gave birth to such a handsome son! That child is so delicate; when he grows up, he'll definitely charm half the young girls in Martial Soul City!"

Falling Devil Douluo stroked his chin, sighing with emotion. "That fellow Gui Mei is usually as cold as a reaper, but today he was smiling like a fool. Truly a once-in-a-century sight. The Polar Static Domain was already unbreakable, and now that their cultivation has broken through thanks to the Immortal Ganoderma, and they have an heir, the foundation of Martial Soul Hall has grown even deeper."

Thousand Jun Douluo nodded, his tone turning grave. "But having said that, with the Old Ancestor fallen, Tang San remaining in Martial Soul Hall, and the two of them having a child—these three events happening in succession... Martial Soul Hall may look glorious, but the undercurrents beneath the surface are anything but small."

As soon as these words were spoken, the smiles on everyone's faces gradually faded.

Golden Crocodile Douluo let out a long sigh, his aged voice carrying a heavy weight. "The Clear Sky Sect's attitude remains ambiguous, Tang Hao is still on the run, the Flame Will Dynasty shouts daily about purging soul beast heretics, and the two great empires are secretly expanding their armies. It looks peaceful on the outside, but the undercurrents are surging."

"When the Old Ancestor was here, he was our anchor. Now that he has fallen, we old bones must hold the line. We cannot allow Martial Soul Hall to fall into any chaos."

Everyone fell silent, their expressions solemn.

The Old Ancestor's final instruction was that after he was gone, the entire continent would enter a time of great turmoil, and they should be prepared.

It would be far more turbulent than the undercurrents beneath the currently calm surface.

Qian Xunji walked at the back of the group, his gaze fixed heavily on the direction of the Angelic Sanctuary, a flicker of complexity in his eyes. As both the Young Master of Martial Soul Hall and a descendant of Qian Chongguang, the burden on his shoulders was heavier than anyone else's.

He vaguely remembered how he had once nearly been seduced by the Evil God into carrying out the "one blast to forge two gods" plan; had the Old Ancestor not slapped him awake and cursed him for being a ghost raised within his own house, he feared he would have become a sinner of Spirit Hall, perhaps even a sinner of the entire continent.

"The Adjudicator Elder now leads the Adjudication Department; he can hold the line," Qian Xunji said in a low voice. "Tang San is being raised according to the Old Ancestor's will, and Mengguan is our junior. The two empires, the Clear Sky Sect, the Flame Will Dynasty... we will deal with every storm slowly."

"The Old Ancestor once said that all accidents are part of the plan."

Once these words were spoken, everyone's hearts settled inexplicably. Even if the road ahead was unknown, as long as they followed the path left by Qian Chongguang, Martial Soul Hall would not fall.

As his voice faded, the Title Douluo present, despite their lingering concerns, all bowed in unison.

On the east side of the Angelic Sanctuary in Martial Soul Hall stood one of the highest residences in the entire city.

The window of a certain attic room faced the east, and every day, the first ray of morning sun fell precisely onto the soft couch by the window. Even the window paper was made of Ice Silkworm Silk, specifically designated in Qian Chongguang's will—it could filter out the scorching heat of the morning sun while retaining the purest rays of dawn, making it an excellent place for practicing ocular techniques.

This was the place where Tang San had grown up until the age of three.

From the first day he opened his eyes in his swaddling clothes, he had been far quieter than ordinary children. While other infants were crying for milk, he could lie quietly, sensing the faint, ceaseless flow of energy within his body. As soon as he could toddle, he would climb to the window before dawn every day, sitting in meditation while facing the pale, fish-belly white sky, as if he naturally knew how to resonate with the energy between heaven and earth.

It was not until he turned three that the vague techniques in his mind finally became clear and complete.

This was perfectly normal; the brain still needed to develop before the age of three.

Even with the wisdom and memories of his past life, they had to be recovered gradually.

While the sky was still covered in a layer of gray-blue morning mist, the three-year-old Tang San sat upright on the soft couch.

His small body was straight, his eyes closed, and he began to slowly circulate the Mysterious Heaven Skill along the path that naturally emerged in his heart. Wisps of heaven and earth soul power flowed into his meridians with his breath, circulating obediently through his body before settling in his Dantian.

Even though there were still three years until his soul awakening at age six, his soul power had already silently touched the threshold of the Soul Scholar realm.

It was only when the first ray of morning sun leaped over the horizon and the golden-red light filled the window frame that he slowly opened his eyes. There was no childish confusion in his pitch-black pupils, only a calm and clarity far beyond his years. His gaze remained locked on the rising sun, his eyelashes not trembling in the slightest, as the basic techniques of the Purple Demon Eye circulated in his heart, polishing his vision day after day.