Unforgettable Memory and Ever-Growing Soul Power

Time was like a slowly flowing river, carrying away the muddleheadedness of infancy and bringing the clarity of youth.

As time passed, he gradually came to understand his surroundings—he had transmigrated. More precisely, he had transmigrated and been reborn.

He had transmigrated into the fated protagonist of the Dou Qi Continent, the future Flame Emperor, "Xiao Yan."

Not the good-for-nothing ridiculed by everyone, nor the legend who would ultimately step into the Emperor Realm—but the youth caught between those two stages.

The Xiao Yan who would begin cultivating Dou Zhi Qi at four, possess Nine-Stage Dou Zhi Qi at ten, condense a Dou Zhi Qi vortex and break through to become a Dou Practitioner at eleven, then fall back to the third stage because Yao Lao in his ring absorbed his Dou Zhi Qi, enduring three years of mockery from all of Wutan City.

Upon learning that his true identity was the future Flame Emperor Xiao Yan, Xiao Yan felt no joy whatsoever.

He had read Battle Through the Heavens no fewer than a dozen times. He knew its plot inside out and could even recite every line from certain classic scenes.

Yet it was precisely because he knew it too well that he felt no joy.

Battle Through the Heavens might appear to be a satisfying power fantasy on the surface—the protagonist crushing opponents, leveling up, collecting Heavenly Flames, winning beauties' hearts, and ultimately attaining the throne of an Emperor—but for him, as "Xiao Yan," this path was anything but friendly.

First, Yao Lao would absorb his Dou Zhi Qi while asleep, forcing him to endure three whole years as a good-for-nothing.

Three years were enough to grind all a young man's pride into ashes, enough to make those who had once looked up to him gaze at him with contempt, enough to turn the word "genius" into a mocking joke.

Then came Nalan Yanran's annulment of their engagement.

The favored daughter of the Misty Cloud Sect would arrive with an elder and tear up the marriage contract before all of Wutan City, trampling the Xiao Clan's dignity into the dirt.

The words, "Thirty years in the east of the river, thirty years in the west," were certainly stirring—but what came after that?

The crushing shackles of the three-year agreement, and the loneliness and pressure of three years of bitter cultivation.

Then, after breaking through to become a Dou Practitioner, he would cultivate the Flame Mantra to revive Yao Lao—a cultivation technique of uncertain authenticity, one that might or might not devour Heavenly Flames or evolve.

He would embark on the path of absorbing Heavenly Flames, a path with death lurking at every turn. Each time he devoured a Heavenly Flame, he would be dancing with death; one moment of carelessness would mean his soul scattering into nothingness.

Not to mention that because the Xiao Clan was one of the eight ancient clans and possessed a piece of the Tuoshe Ancient God Jade, his father, Xiao Zhan, would be captured by members of the Soul Hall.

He would have to grow stronger while searching, fight through the Soul Hall's countless blockades, and ultimately rescue his father from Hun Tiandi's hands.

Every step of that journey would be a dance on a blade, every mile a walk along a cliff's edge.

The high-spirited Flame Emperor Xiao Yan from the original story had made his blood boil and his heart surge with emotion when he read the novel.

But when he himself had to become that Xiao Yan, the boiling blood quickly cooled, leaving behind only heavy, sobering clarity.

He was not afraid of hardship, exhaustion, bloodshed, or sweat.

But he did not want those he cared about to be hurt.

He did not want his father to be captured by the Soul Hall while protecting that ancient jade, did not want Yao Lao to burn his soul origin to save him and fall into slumber, and did not want those who truly treated him well to be dragged into danger one after another because of him.

Therefore, Xiao Yan resolved to change everything.

He knew every thorn, every trap, every brush with death along that path all too well.

Since fate had thrown him into this book, he would not follow the original script.

He would carve out a different path in his own way.

In the blink of an eye, four years passed.

Four years were neither long nor short—long enough for an infant to learn to walk, learn to speak, and learn to call out "Father" and "Mother" in a childish voice.

But to Xiao Yan, those four years were more like a long and patient preparation.

Because he was too young and his meridians had yet to fully form, he could not begin cultivating Dou Zhi Qi. The meridians in his body were like tender shoots that had only just sprouted, too fragile to withstand the impact of Dou Qi. Forcing cultivation would only damage his foundation and do more harm than good.

So he could only begin from other areas.

Books.

In this world where Dou Qi reigned supreme, knowledge was often disregarded—powerhouses trusted fists and strength more than the words written on pages.

But Xiao Yan came from Blue Star. He understood the power of knowledge far too well.

Sometimes, a yellowed medicinal tome, a tattered map, or a long-buried secret was more valuable than brute force.

He decided to begin with books on medicinal herbs, laying the foundation for becoming an Alchemist in the future.

One evening at dinner, Xiao Yan set down his bowl and chopsticks, then looked at Xiao Zhan seated across from him with his bright black eyes. His childish voice carried a seriousness that could not be ignored.

"Father, I want to read some books about medicinal herbs."

Xiao Zhan paused midway through picking up food, then raised his eyes to look at his son, who had only recently learned to speak in complete sentences. A trace of surprise flashed through his eyes.

"Yan'er, why do you want to read such books?"

Xiao Yan had long prepared an answer. He tilted his head and revealed the innocent smile unique to a child, his tone carrying a hint of excitement.

"Because I heard Uncle Physician say that Alchemists make a lot of money! When I grow up, I want to become an Alchemist too and make lots of money!"

This explanation was just right—it explained why he was interested in books about medicinal herbs while also displaying the temperament a child ought to have.

Naive, innocent, full of random whims, without a single flaw.

Xiao Zhan froze for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

His hearty laughter echoed through the dining hall, making even the old locust tree in the courtyard rustle.

"Yan'er, becoming an Alchemist isn't something you can do just because you want to." He reached out and ruffled his son's hair, his palm rough and warm. "But since you want to read them, your father will naturally satisfy you."

He did as he said.

Within a few days, Xiao Zhan had someone purchase more than a dozen books on medicinal herbs from the marketplace in Wutan City. Stacked together, they stood nearly half a foot high.

The pages had yellowed, their corners curled, giving off the stale scent of old ink and the distinctive mustiness of paper.

When Xiao Zhan placed the books beside Xiao Yan's bed, he thought, Children are fickle. He'll lose interest in a few days.

He was wrong.

Xiao Yan not only read them, but persisted.

Every day, as dawn was just beginning to break, the little figure would sit properly on a stone bench in the courtyard, a thick medicinal tome spread before him as he quietly turned the pages.

Morning sunlight filtered through the branches and leaves of the old locust tree, scattering across the pages like shattered gold and falling over his shoulders.

He read very quickly—so quickly that anyone watching would think he was merely skimming through the books.

But only Xiao Yan knew that every word on those pages, every illustration, every herb's place of origin and medicinal property, was firmly engraved deep in his mind after passing before his eyes just once.

Perhaps because of his transmigration and rebirth, Xiao Yan felt that his Soul Power was slowly increasing every day.

The growth was faint, like spring rain nourishing all things—silent and subtle, yet never ceasing.

If an ordinary person's soul was an oil lamp, then his was like a deep pool continuously fed by fresh water. Day after day, its surface steadily rose.

This growth in Soul Power brought a direct result: photographic memory.

It was not an exaggeration or a metaphor, but true photographic memory.

Once he finished a book and closed its cover, its contents seemed branded into his memory by a red-hot iron. He could clearly recall the layout of every page, the position of every line, and even the shape of every punctuation mark.

The dense information about the herbs—their names, medicinal properties, growth environments, harvesting seasons, storage methods, and more—was like a vast ocean, while his mind was an enormous, almost limitless sponge, greedily and tirelessly absorbing everything.

Day after day, month after month.

By the age of three, Xiao Yan's knowledge of medicinal herbs had already surpassed that of the Xiao Clan's pharmacist.

The Xiao Clan's pharmacist was surnamed Ge. He was an old man in his fifties, with white hair and beard, and hands covered in calluses that always carried the scent of herbs.

He had served the Xiao Clan for over twenty years, healing countless clan members' injuries and illnesses, and was respected by everyone in the clan.

At first, Pharmacist Ge paid little attention to Xiao Yan reading medicinal tomes—what could a three-year-old child who did not even recognize all the characters possibly understand?

Until one day, he happened to open one of the medicinal tomes Xiao Yan had read.

The blank spaces on its pages were densely filled with annotations. Though the handwriting was childish, it was neat and clear.

Some annotations supplemented the original text, some corrected the medicinal properties, and there were even several points that Pharmacist Ge himself had to verify by consulting other texts.

Pharmacist Ge closed the book and remained silent for a long time before saying one thing to Xiao Zhan.

"If this child cannot become an Alchemist, then no one in the entire Jia Ma Empire can."

Upon hearing this, Xiao Zhan's smile held equal parts pride and astonishment.