Awakening day

Aolai City was an unremarkable little coastal city on the eastern shore of the Sun Moon Federation.

Built beside the sea, it had narrow streets and low walls. On ordinary days, its greatest bustle came when fishing boats returned at dawn and vendors packed up their stalls at dusk. Today, however, the usually quiet city was unusually noisy. Since first light, the gates of Red Mountain Academy had been crowded with parents bringing their children to the awakening ceremony.

Today was the annual Awakening Day.

Everyone on the Douluo Continent possessed a martial soul within their body. It was a part of them, perhaps a plant, a bird, a hoe, a long saber, or even an utterly ordinary stone. At the age of six, an awakening ceremony would rouse the martial soul sleeping within.

For ordinary people, a martial soul made them better at certain things. A hoe martial soul made plowing easier; a bird martial soul might grant sharper eyesight or a lighter, swifter step. Over thousands of years, martial souls had long since become a part of everyday life.

But more important than a martial soul was soul power.

Not everyone awakened accompanying soul power when their martial soul awakened. Often, even among a thousand people, there might not be a single child who truly possessed it. Only those with soul power were qualified to cultivate their martial souls and set foot on the path countless people gazed up at—to become a Soul Master.

Soul power meant a future.

Soul power meant the possibility of rewriting one's destiny.

So even in this age of highly advanced soul guidance technology, when people could still make a living through other means without becoming Soul Masters, Awakening Day remained one of the most important days for every family.

Amid the crowd, a little boy who had just turned six looked up, his eyes full of anticipation.

"Dad, what do you think my martial soul will be?"

He had delicate features and soft, neatly trimmed black hair. Slightly taller than other children his age, he had especially beautiful eyes, with clear whites and dark pupils framed by long lashes. His clothes were ordinary, yet he caught the eye at once.

The middle-aged man beside him had an ordinary face, an average height, and an average build. He looked no different from most ordinary fathers in this little city. Only when he looked at his son did his calm eyes soften.

"I don't know either." Tang Ziran smiled and ruffled his son's hair. "We'll only know once it awakens."

"Then will I have soul power?" the little boy immediately asked, his eyes shining a little brighter. "I want to be a Soul Master."

Tang Ziran paused briefly, then said softly, "We'll find out in a little while."

Clearly dissatisfied with that answer, the boy pressed his lips together and asked again in earnest, "Dad, I'll definitely have soul power, won't I?"

Looking at him, Tang Ziran suddenly felt a pang in his heart.

Awakening Day had never been merely a celebration for children. For many families, it was also a fork in the road of life. Whether a child awakened soul power often determined whether their future would follow an entirely different path.

Naturally, he would not say anything so heavy to a six-year-old.

"Whether you have soul power or not, Dad will always love you." That was all he said.

The little boy froze for a moment, then nodded vigorously and broke into a radiant smile.

"But I still want it." He clenched his little fists and said with utter seriousness, "I want to become really strong."

Tang Ziran chuckled, tightened his hold on the boy's hand, and said nothing more.

Parents kept emerging from the academy with their children. Most wore undisguised disappointment and sighed, while occasionally one or two came rushing out in wild delight. There was hardly any need to ask about those children—they must have awakened accompanying soul power.

Whenever that happened, everyone nearby turned to look at once, their gazes filled with envy, jealousy, wonder, and more.

Tang Wulin watched with shining eyes, his anticipation growing stronger.

Time trickled by. The sun climbed higher, and warmth gradually spread through the air. Just as he was beginning to feel sleepy from waiting, a teacher came out of the academy, glanced down at the form in his hand, and called a name.

"Tang Wulin!"

"I'm here!" The little boy sprang up, his voice clear and loud.

Tang Ziran perked up as well and hurried over, leading his son by the hand.

"Come with me." The teacher sounded rather indifferent, clearly exhausted by a morning of work.

Tang Ziran followed him into Red Mountain Academy with Tang Wulin.

The academy was very quiet.

Compared with the crowded, noisy street outside, it seemed like another world. Buildings with white walls and red roofs stood in orderly rows, the paths were clean, and the shade beneath the trees was cool. Even the air seemed much calmer. Tang Wulin looked around curiously as he walked, yet the farther they went, the more his excitement gradually settled.

The teacher brought them to a circular building and stopped.

"Parents wait here."

Tang Ziran nodded, crouched down to look at his son, and said with a smile, "Listen to the teacher once you're inside, and don't be nervous. I'll be waiting right outside."

"Okay!" Tang Wulin nodded hard, his eyes sparkling. "Dad, I'll definitely have a powerful martial soul!"

A flicker of complicated emotion crossed Tang Ziran's eyes as he looked at him, but he still smiled and said, "Go on."

Only then did Tang Wulin follow the teacher into the circular building.

Buildings like this could be found at almost every elementary academy, and they all shared a name—awakening chambers. Every Awakening Day, the academies invited Spirit Transmitters from the Spirit Pagoda to conduct martial soul awakening ceremonies for the children.

The circular building had seven floors, each with dedicated awakening rooms. Tang Wulin was taken to the third floor, and the moment he entered the room, his eyes widened involuntarily.

Intricate, splendid patterns were inscribed everywhere—on the floor, the walls, and the domed ceiling. Their interwoven lines formed a complete array, faintly emitting a gentle glow.

The instant he saw those patterns, Tang Wulin's heart suddenly jolted.

A very strange sensation quietly surfaced.

It was as though something deep within his body had been disturbed and was slowly awakening.

At the center of the awakening room stood a middle-aged man in an old-fashioned orange robe. Subtle patterns of soul beasts were embroidered on it. His expression was gentle, yet his bearing commanded respect.

Ever since he was little, Tang Wulin had loved listening to his father's stories, so he naturally knew that this man was a Spirit Transmitter from the Spirit Pagoda. Seeing a real Spirit Transmitter for the first time made the little boy nervous, and he hurriedly gave a proper bow.

"Hello."

The middle-aged Spirit Transmitter smiled and nodded at the well-behaved little boy.

"Come, little one. Stand in the middle."

Tang Wulin obediently walked to the center of the array and stood still, but could not resist asking, "Sir, what martial soul will I awaken?"

The Spirit Transmitter chuckled. "I don't know either. Once it awakens, we'll find out."

As he spoke, he looked at Tang Wulin's particularly beautiful, large eyes and added teasingly, "Perhaps it'll be a martial soul related to your eyes."

"Spirit Eyes?" Tang Wulin's eyes immediately lit up. "Dad told me about the Spirit Pagoda's first Pagoda Master—"

"First, focus and calm yourself." The Spirit Transmitter raised a hand to interrupt him, his voice still gentle. "I'm going to begin."

Tang Wulin immediately fell silent and nodded earnestly.

The Spirit Transmitter slowly raised both hands. Streams of soft white light rose around the array, soon enveloping Tang Wulin at its center.

"Relax. Don't resist." The Spirit Transmitter's voice came from in front of him. "Feel the most natural power within your body."

The white light grew denser, wrapping Tang Wulin's body in warmth.

At first, it felt very comfortable.

But moments later, a faint burning sensation suddenly arose within him, as though something had begun quietly churning through his blood. The feeling was strange. It was not pain, yet it instinctively stirred a trace of unease in him, as though something ferocious deep within his body wanted to burst free.

In the next instant, that restlessness abruptly intensified!

Tang Wulin's face paled slightly. His chest, his limbs, and even his blood seemed on the verge of boiling. Yet just as that burning heat was about to escape control, another, heavier force slowly descended from the deepest reaches of his soul.

Like a hammer.

A hammer so heavy it could pin down every trace of unrest.

In an instant, Tang Wulin's vision went black.

In that brief darkness, he seemed to see roiling gold—violent, scorching, and filled with a hunger for destruction. Deeper within that gold, a faint blue-gold silhouette flickered, coiling tightly around that raging force like vines. Above it all, a pitch-black, heavy hammer-shaped shadow hovered silently, suppressing everything.

The image flashed past and vanished.

In reality, Tang Wulin's right hand had already risen of its own accord.

Hummm—

A mass of dim, dark light slowly gathered in his palm.

There was no dazzling radiance, no astonishing phenomenon, nor any of the imposing grandeur expected of a top-tier martial soul. That dark glow appeared in utter silence, barely causing a ripple. A few breaths later, a hammer quietly materialized in Tang Wulin's hand.

It was a little hammer.

Pitch-black from end to end, it had a short, thick head and no markings on its surface. Neither gleaming nor sharp, it even looked somewhat crude and worn, like the most ordinary practice hammer in a smithy.

Ordinary.

That was the judgment anyone would make upon first seeing it.

Yet the instant the little hammer fully took shape, the awakening array beneath his feet seemed to tremble slightly.

An exceedingly faint tremor.

So faint that Tang Wulin himself noticed nothing.

But the pupils of the middle-aged Spirit Transmitter standing before him contracted almost imperceptibly. In that instant, he had distinctly felt the entire array's aura pressed down by something immensely heavy.

It was not a fluctuation of soul power.

It was a stranger, purer kind of "weight."

But in the next moment, that sensation disappeared, as though nothing had happened.

Tang Wulin looked down at the little hammer in his palm, paused, then tentatively tried lifting it. The moment he exerted himself, his little hand dropped sharply, and he nearly lost his grip.

"It's so heavy..." he blurted out.

The Spirit Transmitter took two steps closer and examined the little hammer carefully, his brows drawing together slightly.

Hammer martial souls were not uncommon, but this was his first time seeing a Tool Martial Soul that looked so ordinary yet carried such an indefinable strangeness. Still, no matter how he examined it, he could find no clearer sign of anything unusual.

In the end, he could only set his doubts aside for the moment.

"Put your martial soul away," he said.

Tang Wulin hurriedly obeyed. With a thought, Xiao Hei turned back into a wisp of dark light and vanished into his palm.

The Spirit Transmitter fetched a crystal ball and held it out before him.

"Come, let's test your soul power as well. Put your hand on it and concentrate."

Tang Wulin took a deep breath and pressed his hand against the crystal ball.

A moment later, soft white light slowly began to glow within it.

Little by little, it grew stronger.

The light was not dazzling, but it was remarkably pure and steady. It continued to rise until it finally stopped at a clear, bright level, quietly shimmering.

Looking at the crystal ball, the Spirit Transmitter's eyes showed a trace of surprise.

"Innate soul power, level five."

Tang Wulin first stared blankly, then his eyes suddenly lit up.

"I—I have soul power?" He almost held his breath as he asked.

"Yes." The Spirit Transmitter nodded, his expression softening further. "And level five isn't low. For a Tool Martial Soul, that's already quite good talent. As long as you're willing to cultivate diligently, you're qualified to become a Soul Master."

At the words "Soul Master," Tang Wulin seemed to light up from head to toe.

The faint disappointment he had felt over his ordinary-looking martial soul vanished completely in an instant. So what if it was a little ordinary? Having soul power meant he was not limited to being an ordinary person.

He truly had a chance to become a Soul Master.

"Thank you, sir!" Tang Wulin all but bent into a deep bow, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

The Spirit Transmitter waved a hand, indicating that he could leave. But as Tang Wulin turned around, he could not help glancing once more at the child's right hand.

Was that little hammer truly just an ordinary hammer martial soul?

If it was ordinary, why had it caused such a faint yet distinct disturbance in the awakening array?

But if it wasn't ordinary, why did it look so excessively plain?

The Spirit Transmitter pondered for a moment, but ultimately said nothing more.

"Go on. Your father is still waiting outside."

"Okay!"

Tang Wulin answered, then turned and ran out.

Outside the circular building, Tang Ziran had been waiting the whole time.

The instant he saw his son rush out, his previously calm expression tightened slightly. Tang Wulin, however, had already called out, "Dad!"

"How did it go?" Tang Ziran hurried up to him, unable to keep all the nervousness from his voice.

Tang Wulin was so excited that his face had flushed. He raised his right hand, and a wisp of dark light flashed as the little pitch-black hammer appeared in his palm.

"My martial soul is a hammer!" He first held it up for his father to see, then eagerly added, "But Dad, I have soul power! The Spirit Transmitter said my innate soul power is level five!"

Tang Ziran froze.

Soul power?

And level five?

In the next instant, delighted surprise welled up in his eyes almost instinctively. For an ordinary family, level-five innate soul power was by no means low. Even if the awakened martial soul was only a hammer-type Tool Martial Soul, this was already enough to prove that his son truly had the talent to become a Soul Master.

But after that delight, another, more practical thought surfaced.

Talent alone had never been enough for a Soul Master's cultivation.

Academies, cultivation resources, a future soul spirit, and all the expenses to come... It was a road truly built upon money and opportunity. For wealthy, powerful families, those things were a matter of course. For an ordinary family like theirs, every step forward would be difficult.

Tang Ziran's gaze involuntarily fell on Xiao Hei.

A hammer martial soul.

Neither rare nor distinguished.

But a hammer martial soul was naturally suited to another path—Forging.

As soon as that thought arose, Tang Ziran's heart filled with mixed emotions. Joy and aching bitterness intertwined, leaving him momentarily unable to speak.

"Dad?" Seeing his silence, Tang Wulin called softly.

Tang Ziran came back to himself, looked down into his son's astonishingly bright eyes, and reached out to stroke his head.

"Good," he said softly. "Very good."

"Then can I become a Soul Master?" Tang Wulin blurted out.

Looking at the hope in his son's eyes, Tang Ziran fell silent for a moment, then finally nodded.

"As long as you're willing to work hard, you can."

At those words, Tang Wulin broke into a smile.

That smile was pure and bright, like sunlight dancing across the summer sea.

"I knew it!" He clenched his little fists and said with utter earnestness, "Even if it's only a hammer martial soul, I'll definitely cultivate hard. I'm going to become a Soul Master—and a really powerful one!"

Tang Ziran looked at him, his heart stirring slightly.

Perhaps reality would force this child to learn Forging first, to find some way to shoulder a little of the family's burden. Perhaps, with their circumstances, every step ahead would be harder than it was for others. Yet at this moment, he could clearly feel that the flame in his son's heart had not been extinguished by his ordinary martial soul. Instead, the result of level-five innate soul power had made it burn all the brighter.

It was not a child's passing fancy.

It was a simple, stubborn longing.

He wanted to become a Soul Master.

Even if reality would not grant that wish so easily.

Father and son walked side by side toward the academy gates.

The afternoon sunlight shone on the ground, so bright it almost dazzled the eyes. As he walked, Tang Wulin kept looking down at Xiao Hei in his palm, summoning it one moment and putting it away the next. No matter how long he looked, he could never get enough.

As he gazed at it, he suddenly lifted his head and said earnestly to Tang Ziran, "Dad, I won't give up."

"On what?"

"Becoming a Soul Master." Tang Wulin clenched his little fists, his dark eyes shining. "Even if I go on to learn something else, even if this hammer doesn't look powerful, I'll never give up cultivating."

Tang Ziran's steps faltered slightly, then he smiled softly.

"All right," he answered quietly. "I'll remember that."

The sea breeze blew in from beyond the academy, carrying a damp hint of salt as it swept over the street and brushed past this child who had just completed his Martial Soul Awakening.

From this day onward, his life was no longer what it had been.

But Tang Wulin did not yet know what astonishing secret lay buried beneath the seemingly ordinary Xiao Hei in his palm; nor did he know that, for a long stretch of the days ahead, furnace fires, anvils, and true Forging hammers would enter his life first.

Yet at least in that moment, he knew one thing.

I have soul power.

I can cultivate.

So no matter how difficult the road ahead might be, he would never settle for being merely an ordinary person.

And on that ordinary, sweltering afternoon in this little seaside city, the gears of fate quietly completed their first turn.