Awakening

Awakening

Above an endless sea of grayish-white mist, there stood a towering palace supported by pillars of thick stone.

Inside the palace stood an ancient, mottled bronze long table. At the very head of the bronze long table was a mysterious, anomalous figure wrapped in dense gray mist, seemingly looking down upon everything.

Seated in one of the chairs was a child who looked about six or seven years old, with round cheeks, fair skin, soft, curly short blonde hair, and clear, azure-blue eyes carrying an assessing, tranquil expression at odds with his age.

On the back of his chair was a pattern formed by two serpents biting each other's tails.

A childish voice resounded through the giant palace: "Why did you call me here? I haven't even finished eating my ice cream..."

The little boy looked upward, pouting, his voice trailing off as he spoke.

The mysterious figure standing at the upper end of the bronze long table curled the corners of his mouth slightly, speaking in a flat tone and a deep voice: "Just now, I discovered one of God's contingencies in the Chaos Sea."

At these words, the little boy's expression turned serious instantly.

"Is there a possibility of revival?"

"Unlikely." The mysterious figure chuckled softly. "He left many contingencies back then, but very few of them were actually used."

The mysterious figure paused, then continued: "I felt a hint of opportunity in his destiny... a hint of an omnipotent and omniscient opportunity. So, I had you come take a look."

"Him?"

"Yes, just like the Celestial Venerable's contingency... just like me."

"...Alright."

The little boy nodded, closing his eyes motionlessly.

After a moment, the little boy opened his eyes: "It is indeed an opportunity."

"The Outer Deities might attack again at any moment; I don't plan to release him directly." A playful smile appeared on the face of the mysterious figure above the bronze long table. "Let him wake up in a relatively safe world..."

The little boy nodded, just about to get up when he suddenly paused, asking somewhat hesitantly: "The Hanged Man?"

The mysterious figure uttered an affirmative hum.

The little boy stood up and said to the upper end: "I'm leaving, I hope my ice cream hasn't melted."

Then a flash appeared before his eyes, and he returned home, immediately hearing a deep voice: "Remember to sacrifice a portion of ice cream for me to taste."

"..."

The landmark of Qingshi Village was the endless giant pit at the center of the village.

No one knew the origin of the pit; at the bottom of the pit sat a huge bluestone, and the village was named after it.

The morning sunlight spilled through the window paper into the humble wooden house.

An Chen opened his eyes and stared blankly at the wooden roof beams.

In his mind, two memories were intertwined; one belonged to a twenty-four-year-old urban office worker who squeezed onto the subway, worked overtime, and ordered takeout every day, while the other belonged to a six-year-old mountain village child who went up the mountain to gather firewood, went down to the river to catch fish, and rolled around in the mud.

He was stunned for quite a while before realizing that he had transmigrated!

"An Chen! Get up quickly! Today is the day to awaken our Wuhun!"

His foster mother Li Fang's voice came from outside, carrying unconcealed excitement. An Chen hurriedly responded, rolled over, and sat up.

A steaming breakfast was set on the table, a great deal better than what he usually ate; today his foster mother had purposely added two extra eggs and sliced a plate of cured meat.

His foster father An Dashan had already finished eating, carrying a hoe and waiting by the door. Seeing him come out, he grinned: "Eat quickly, the Soul Master lord has already arrived, don't keep him waiting."

An Chen nodded, finished eating in a few bites, and followed his foster father toward the village entrance.

Qingshi Village was not large, comprising a hundred or so households in total, and lived a frugal life.

But today was different from usual; the open space at the village entrance was densely packed with people, even livelier than during the New Year.

The Spirit Hall's deacon toured various villages every year to awaken the Wuhun of children who reached the age of six, which was the only opportunity for mountain folk to change their destiny.

An Chen stood in line, watching the children ahead of him step forward one by one.

The first one placed a hand in the center of six black stones, a pale light flashed, and a hoe appeared out of thin air in his right hand. The second was a sickle, and the third was actually a firewood chopper with a gleaming blade, drawing a few cheers from the villagers.

The Spirit Hall deacon was a middle-aged man in his forties, expressionless as he recorded in a notebook, with unconcealed disappointment deep in his eyes.

He ran through dozens of villages every year, awakening thousands of children, but those with innate soul power were few and far between.

In such a remote small village, having even one would be considered a miracle.

"Next."

A little girl stepped forward, a light flashed, and a small blue grass appeared in her hand.

"Blue Silver Grass, waste Wuhun." The disappointment in the deacon's eyes became even more obvious, and he then handed over the crystal ball for testing soul power.

An Chen was startled. This was the Blue Silver Grass Wuhun, Tang San's Wuhun in the Continent of Douluo.

But there was no surprise; still no soul power.

"Last one." The deacon shook his head.

It was his turn.

An Chen took a deep breath and walked to the center of the six black stones.

The deacon casually injected soul power, and a pale golden light instantly lit up, enveloping him within it.

A warm current surged through his entire body, and An Chen felt something in his body attract all the warmth, surging together toward his right hand.

The light dissipated.

An Chen looked down and was stunned.

Above his right hand, a big iron pot was quietly suspended.

Black and plump, it was identical to the iron pot set up on every family's stove in the village.

"Hahaha!" Several children who had finished their awakenings burst into laughter first. "An iron pot! His Wuhun is an iron pot!"

The villagers also joined in with jeers.

The corners of An Chen's mouth twitched. Having transmigrated to the Continent of Douluo, let alone the Clear Sky Hammer or Seven Kill Sword, he hadn't even managed to get a farm tool, and was given a pot instead?

He was just about to retract his Wuhun when his gaze suddenly paused.

The surface of the iron pot was faintly shrouded in a layer of extremely pale gray mist.

It was wispy and elusive; if one didn't look closely, it wouldn't be discovered at all, easily mistaken for just a layer of dust.

An Chen was inwardly startled. Others might not pay attention, but he was crystal clear that this was no dust; it was a layer of faint gray mist.

What was this? How could there be mist on an iron pot?

"Let's test your soul power." The deacon suppressed the laughter, sighed, and handed over the crystal ball, with no expectation in his tone.

An Chen's train of thought was interrupted. He took the crystal ball, put away his Wuhun according to the prompt, and urged the soul power within his body.

The next second, the crystal ball burst out with dazzling light, so bright that it made people unable to open their eyes.

The deacon's expression froze.

"In... Innate full soul power?!"

His eyes widened to the size of marbles, and he snatched the crystal ball, flipping it back and forth to look at it multiple times before looking incredulously at An Chen, this unremarkable mountain village kid.

"This... how is this possible..."

Having served in the Spirit Hall for over ten years, walking through nearby remote villages and towns, and having witnessed thousands of children awaken, he was seeing a genius with innate full soul power with his own eyes for the very first time today.

The deacon took a deep breath and reassessed the child before him.

He was not old, nor tall, and wore patched coarse cloth clothing.

Yet those eyes were exceptionally calm, without the excitement or frustration after awakening that other children had, simply looking at him quietly as if pondering something.

"Child," the deacon squatted down, his tone solemn as never before, "are you willing to join the Spirit Hall?"

At these words, the crowd fell silent for a moment, and then burst into discussion.

The Spirit Hall—that was the strongest soul master force on the continent; joining meant eating imperial rations and becoming a superior person, a good thing ordinary families wouldn't even dare to dream of.

An Chen did not answer immediately.

He looked down at the hand that had just awakened the iron pot. In his consciousness, that layer of gray mist was still slowly flowing, as if it had a life of its own.

"I am willing." Hearing the deacon's words, he raised his head.

Never mind all that for now; since I have innate full soul power, the Spirit Hall's resources will definitely be tilted toward me by a small margin.

In his past life, An Chen had read the Continent of Douluo and knew that the Spirit Hall was a conscientious organization on the continent.

The deacon nodded, straightened up, resumed his business-as-usual expression, and turned to find the village chief to discuss subsequent arrangements.

The villagers were still discussing animatedly, but now their gazes toward An Chen had changed; this child, usually so quiet, was probably going to soar to great heights in the future.