Martial Soul Awakening

On the day Su Yuntao came to Blacksmith Village, Nan Feng was behind the smithy, helping Old Chen carry iron ingots.

Each ingot weighed over ten jin, a heavy load for a six-year-old. Gritting his teeth, he carried them from the pile of materials to the furnace. After seven or eight trips, his forehead was covered in sweat.

Old Chen stood behind the anvil with a small hammer in his hand, watching him go back and forth. His lips moved, but he said nothing.

The children of Blacksmith Village had long been waiting at the threshing ground. Nan Feng stacked the last ingot and dusted off his hands. By the time he reached the threshing ground, five children were already standing there.

Chen Dazhuang was squatting on the ground, drawing circles. Chen Yaya was tugging at the bow on her braid, while three others huddled together, whispering.

Nan Feng took his place at the back of the line, his gaze falling on the middle-aged man in a long black robe.

Su Yuntao.

Nan Feng's heart skipped half a beat. He remembered the name well from reading "Douluo Continent" in his previous life. An attendant of Spirit Hall, responsible for the Martial Soul Awakening in the surrounding villages, he was the one who had awakened Tang San's Blue Silver Grass.

In the original story, Su Yuntao was no big shot. But the crystal ball and the black stones in his hands determined whether a child could become a Soul Master.

Nan Feng watched Su Yuntao arrange several black stones on a stone roller, then take out a crystal ball and set it beside them. His movements were brisk and indifferent.

He had been doing this job for too many years. The vast majority of the children awakened hoes, sickles, or hammers, with Soul Power no higher than level three. Once in a while, one would turn up above level five, and he would write a few extra words in his record book and report it. That was all.

"Line up, one at a time. Who's first?"

Su Yuntao sat on an old bench, holding a record book and a pen.

Chen Dazhuang was the first to run up. Sturdy and lively, he was a year older than Nan Feng and bolder, too. Su Yuntao told him to put his hand on a stone and activate his Soul Power. A layer of hazy gray light rose from its surface.

A phantom image of a hoe appeared in Chen Dazhuang's hand. Su Yuntao held out the crystal ball. Chen Dazhuang pressed his hand against it, and a thin white mist rose inside, stopping at the very bottom.

"Innate Soul Power, half a level. Hoe Martial Soul."

Su Yuntao made a couple of notes in his record book.

Chen Dazhuang came back with his head hanging. His father patted the back of his head. "Just like your grandpa. Born to till the fields."

The next two children awakened a hammer and a sickle, respectively, both with level-one Soul Power. Su Yuntao barely looked up.

Chen Yaya was fourth. Her hands twisted together, and her face had gone pale with nerves. Su Yuntao told her to put her hand on the stone, and it took her three tries to keep it there.

The gray light on the stone's surface was a little brighter than it had been for the others. A cluster of tiny green shoots appeared in her palm: a wild grass Martial Soul. The white mist in the crystal ball rose to the second mark before stopping.

"Innate Soul Power, level two. Wild grass Martial Soul." Chen Yaya's father grinned from outside the crowd.

Nan Feng was last in line.

Su Yuntao's gaze paused when it fell on his face. Of the five children, this one was the smallest and thinnest, yet he stood the straightest and hadn't spoken to the other children since arriving.

Su Yuntao had been in this line of work for over ten years and had seen too many children before their awakenings. Some were nervous, some excited, some afraid, and some indifferent. This child was too quiet, too quiet for a six-year-old.

"What's your name?"

"Nan Feng."

"Come here. Put your hand on it."

Nan Feng walked over and pressed his right palm against the dark stone. Its surface was icy and rough, like sandpaper.

The moment his palm touched it, the bronze tower deep in his soul gave a twitch. It was faint, like someone had struck a bell inside the tower, its sound reaching the surface of his consciousness and sending ripples across it.

Something surged out of his palm. Heavy and hard, it carried an ancient power unearthed from beneath the ground.

The light in his palm brightened.

Azure light rose from his palm, condensing in the air into a palm-sized phantom tower. It had nine levels and the texture of bronze. The patterns on its body shifted ceaselessly, and a pearl at its peak glimmered in the azure light.

The light wasn't shaped like white mist, nor was it the phantom beast form common to Beast Martial Souls. It was a solid, tangible tower, every detail clearly visible. It hovered and spun above Nan Feng's palm, casting a pale azure light over the faces of the children around him.

The threshing ground fell silent.

Chen Dazhuang's mouth hung open, forgotten. Chen Yaya's hand stopped halfway to her braid. The children who had been whispering fell silent, too. Every gaze rested on the spinning bronze tower.

Even Old Chen, standing at the very edge of the crowd, took his pipe from his mouth. An expression Nan Feng had never seen appeared on his dark, ruddy face.

Su Yuntao raised his eyebrows. He set the record book on his knee, leaned forward, and stared at the tower for several breaths.

"An object-type Martial Soul... a bronze tower?"

There was something more in his voice. It was faint, but Nan Feng heard it: surprise.

Su Yuntao pushed the crystal ball in front of Nan Feng.

"Put your hand on it."

Nan Feng pressed his left hand against the crystal ball.

White mist churned inside the sphere, surging up from the bottom. One level, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. The mist slowed at the eighth mark and roiled at the boundary between the eighth and ninth for several breaths, before finally settling at the eighth.

Someone on the threshing ground drew a sharp breath.

Nan Feng heard an auntie behind him murmuring under her breath, awe in her voice. Innate Soul Power at level eight. In Blacksmith Village, anything above level three meant green smoke was rising from the family graves.

Su Yuntao's crystal ball held eight marks' worth of white mist. For Chen Dazhuang and the others beside Nan Feng, the ball had held only half a mark, one mark, or two. Even a fool could see the difference.

Su Yuntao's pen paused. He looked up at Nan Feng, his gaze more scrutinizing than before.

"A bronze tower, innate level eight. Not bad. You have the qualifications to become a Soul Master. Have you ever met a Soul Master before?"

"No."

"Then do you know where your Martial Soul came from?"

Nan Feng shook his head.

Su Yuntao closed his record book. He seemed about to ask something else, but in the end, he only nodded.

"Train hard. Spirit Hall will send someone to check on you next year."

He stood and packed up his Soul Tool, preparing to go to the next village. Before leaving, he gave Nan Feng another brief glance. Nan Feng caught what lay in it: an appraisal.

Su Yuntao was assessing him. An object-type Martial Soul with innate level-eight Soul Power ranked in the upper middle tier in Spirit Hall's records, not enough to draw the attention of its higher-ups. Su Yuntao wouldn't report much, adding at most an extra note to the routine record.

Nan Feng didn't care what Su Yuntao thought. He withdrew his hand, and the phantom tower above his palm dispersed.

The gravitational field the tower released was more noticeable after the awakening. Like an invisible veil against his skin, it felt heavy and steady.

The gravitational field was very weak, too weak for anyone nearby to feel. But Nan Feng knew it was working. It had begun working as soon as his Martial Soul awakened.

That night, Nan Feng lay on the earthen kang and, for the first time, deliberately sank his consciousness into the space inside the tower.

In the previous few years, he had only been able to sense the tower's presence and feel its outline, but he couldn't get inside. Tonight was different. After his Martial Soul awakened, his connection to the tower had become clear and stable.

It was like looking at something through frosted glass. Now the glass had shattered, and he could directly "see" the tower suspended deep in his soul.

The nine-level bronze tower stood there, far larger and more real than the phantom he had seen outside. Its mottled verdigris gleamed azure in the darkness.

The crack at the base of the tower was a little wider than before, and the light seeping from it was a little brighter. Nan Feng brought his consciousness close to the crack, and a voice came from within.

It was old and hoarse, as though it hadn't spoken in a long time.

"You finally came."

Nan Feng didn't retreat. He stood before the crack, watching a blurry figure emerge. It was the upper body of an old man, his face indistinct and his features impossible to make out clearly.

His eyebrows were long and unruly, and a bushy, disheveled beard hung from his chin. His eyes were open, their cloudy pupils reflecting an azure-gold light.

"I've waited three lifetimes for you."

The old man spoke. His voice sounded like sandpaper scraping over an iron plate.

"I'm the tower keeper. You can call me Old Huai."

Nan Feng's consciousness formed a voice.

"What do you mean, three lifetimes?"

Old Huai leaned farther out of the crack, bracing two skeletal hands against its edges.

"This tower has been with you for three lifetimes. In your last life, you were cut down as soon as you touched it. In the life before that, you didn't even get the chance to awaken. This time, you've finally made it here before me in one piece. It wasn't easy."

He yawned, revealing a few sparse teeth.

"What exactly is this tower?"

Old Huai's cloudy eyes fixed on a point deep within Nan Feng's soul, staring at it for a long time.

"You still don't know? Why don't you take a look at what your own soul looks like?" He extended a finger and pointed into empty space. "Look inside your own head. How did the tower recognize you?"

Following Old Huai's guidance, Nan Feng drew his consciousness inward, all the way to the very core of his soul.

At that moment, he "saw" his own soul. It was a mass of spinning light, transparent at its base, with countless tiny golden specks embedded in its core.

The specks formed a pattern he couldn't understand, like a star chart torn to pieces, or a shattered piece of porcelain barely glued back together. They flowed around the core of his soul, each one emitting a faint glow.

"That is the Primordial World."

Old Huai's voice grew quieter.

"Your soul bears the imprint of the Primordial Wilderness Origin. Earth was formed from the largest fragment left after the Primordial Wilderness World shattered. You came from Earth, so your soul bore the Primordial World's imprint from the very beginning. The tower didn't choose you because you had the bad luck to touch it. It chose you because your soul shared the same origin as it."

"Is the Primordial World stronger than Soul Power?"

Old Huai laughed. His laughter sounded like old bark splitting in the wind.

"Stronger? Soul Power belongs to this world, and above it is divine power. The Primordial World stands above divine power, something from the beginning of all things. Cultivate it well, and you can hold your head high even before a God King. Fail, and you won't even be able to beat an ordinary Soul Elder from Spirit Hall. You choose."

Nan Feng said nothing.

"Listen." Old Huai brought his face a little closer, azure light showing through his wrinkles.

"This tower has nine levels, corresponding to nine Soul Ring levels. The first can be opened at level 20, the second at level 30, and so on. The ninth can only be fully opened at level 100. Each time a level is opened, the tower will evolve, and your physique will change along with it."

"After level 100, a Nine Heavens Treasure Pearl will condense at the top of the tower. It can absorb Spiritual Power and condense three lights divine water. You'll learn how important that is later."

He yawned and drew his body back into the crack.

"There's one more thing you need to remember. Unless your Soul Power Level reaches a multiple of ten, you can't absorb a Soul Ring. Once you reach level 10, if you don't absorb a Soul Ring, your Soul Power will be stuck there forever, unable to rise even a bit. That's an iron law. Even this tower can't change it."

"When can I start cultivating?"

"What's the hurry?"

Half of Old Huai's face had already withdrawn into the crack.

"You're at innate level eight now. First, practice meditation to stabilize your Soul Power. The door to the first level, 'Mountain Suppression,' is still closed. It won't open until your Soul Power reaches level 20."

"As for how you get to level 20, that's your own business. The gravitational field in the tower will help you, and so will the origin of the Primordial World spirit treasure. But whether you can endure it depends on whether your bones are hard enough."

Old Huai withdrew completely into the crack. The azure light within it dimmed a shade, but it was still glowing.

By the time Nan Feng pulled his consciousness out of the tower, the sky outside the window had turned a fish-belly white. Old Chen was still snoring in the next room, and the charcoal fire in the smithy had burned out, leaving only a furnace full of cold ash.

He turned onto his side to face the wall and pressed his right hand to his chest. A warmth from his palm passed through to his ribs. Once, then again. Heavy and steady.

Innate level eight. He was still twelve levels away from level 20.