My Home Is by the City of Nuoding

Yan Zu was against the whole business of transmigration.

But Heaven clearly had no intention of discussing it with him.

He had been an ordinary three-year-old village child on the Douluo Continent. Today, he had been home alone chasing butterflies when he knocked his head against a stone mill, earning the "minor concussion" achievement on the spot.

At the same time, he unlocked the hidden achievement: [Awakening of Past-Life Wisdom].

In his memories, he had been a miserable corporate drone in his previous life, dropping dead amid a mountain of paperwork.

Biting the corner of his quilt, Yan Zu composed a five-thousand-word negative review of Heaven in his head.

Then he began to reassess his current situation from an adult's perspective-

Five Souls Village belonged to Fasinuo Province of the Heaven Dou Empire, about thirty kilometers from Nuoding City. Its hundred-odd households lived beside the Soul Hunting Forest, making their living off the mountain.

The village's name sounded impressive, but according to legend, fifty years ago, five children with Soul Power had awakened in this little village of barely a hundred households within a single year. It had caused a sensation, so the village was renamed in hopes of keeping the good fortune going.

If the village hadn't been so small and sparsely populated, with such limited influence, Spirit Hall would probably have come after it for defamation long ago.

His father, Yan Hu, was thirty-six, a rank-twenty-six Battle Soul Master whose Martial Soul was an iron axe. He was universally recognized as the village's best fighter-though the value of that "best" was roughly equivalent to picking a general from among dwarves.

His mother, Su Qing, was thirty-three, a rank-twenty-two support-type Soul Master whose Martial Soul was green grain. She was good at making crops grow a little better and wounds heal a little faster. As for her fighting ability... well, when a wild boar got into the house last year, her hands had shaken like sieves as she held up a hoe.

And him? Yan Zu, three years and seven days old. Before his awakening, he had three great achievements in life: first, he could pee on his own without wetting his pants; second, he could accurately tell which of the village's five mongrels was fiercer. Third, he had a great name. With a name like that, even if he didn't grow up as elegant as a jade tree in the wind and grand in bearing, he would at least be handsome and presentable.

"A blank-slate start..." Yan Zu looked at his pale, tender, stubby fingers, still a little plump with baby fat, and sighed silently.

He spent another half hour repeatedly confirming the following facts with the rigorous attitude of a graduate student reviewing the literature:

First, no system notification sounded in his head.

Second, no old grandpa was coughing inside a ring.

Third, the bruise on his forehead hurt badly, reminding him how fragile this body was.

Yan Zu felt a little depressed. He would have been better off without his past-life memories; at least living in blissful ignorance wouldn't have been so bad. So, the more one knew, the more one suffered; the ignorant were fearless, and happier too.

Now he knew Tang San would become a god, that Spirit Hall would fall, and that countless opportunities lay hidden in the Star Dou Great Forest, Slaughter City, Sea God Island...

But what did any of that have to do with him?

A three-year-old child, a pair of parents with Soul Power in the twenties, and a small border village.

On the Douluo Continent, that setup was roughly equivalent to a background NPC in a game who wouldn't survive the opening cinematic-the kind a Soul Beast would stomp to death without even getting a name.

"Rely on Dad?" Images of Yan Hu flashed through Yan Zu's mind:

Last year, his father had led a group into the mountains, full of swagger, saying he would hunt a four-hundred-year Soul Beast to show everyone a thing or two.

Three days later, a hundred-and-sixty-year Ironback Bear had chased the group back in a piss-and-shit panic. Yan Hu had run at the front and even lost a shoe.

"Rely on Mom?" The memory changed: Su Qing stood by a field, using a Soul Skill on several wilted cabbages. The illusory image of green grain swayed, and the cabbages... their leaves turned a little greener.

Auntie Wang next door had praised her: "With your skills, Sister Qing, our village won't have to worry about selling cabbages anymore!" So the greatest support's job was to boost production and income.

"Rely on myself?" Yan Zu moved his little stubby legs. For a three-year-old toddler, staying alive and not making trouble for his parents was the greatest contribution he could make to the family.

Was he desperate? A little.

Did he want to cry? Not quite.

Having grown up in an orphanage in his previous life and made it all the way to graduate school on scholarships and public assistance, Yan Zu was best at finding a chance of survival in a bad hand.

His hand was rotten to the core now, but at least... he was still alive.

"Where there's life, there's a chance," he told himself, his voice childish but his tone frighteningly mature.

But... wait.

Yan Zu frowned. He suddenly remembered a detail from the original story-Soul Masters received a monthly stipend after registering with Spirit Hall.

A Soul Grandmaster received ten Gold Soul Coins a month, so Yan Hu and Su Qing got twenty between them. That was no small sum on the Douluo Continent; a family of three could live quite comfortably on one or two Gold Soul Coins a month.

Then why was his family so poor?

Where was the problem? Yan Zu searched through all his memories and found nothing-a three-year-old had no concept of money.

Just as he was considering whether to knock his head against a stone again to see if it would trigger some hidden mechanism, a noise came from outside the courtyard gate.

Sitting on the threshold, Yan Zu watched the creaking wooden gate swing open.

The first thing to enter was a "mountain."

More precisely, it was a man like a mountain. His own father, Yan Hu, stood nearly two meters tall, with broad shoulders and a thick back. His coarse-cloth clothes were torn in several places and stained with blood.

He carried half a bloody Soul Beast carcass on his back. Its shape resembled a wild boar's, but it was more than twice the size of an ordinary one, and one of its two tusks was broken.

The man's steps were heavy, his face was weary, and his lips were dry and cracked. But the moment his tiger-like eyes saw the little figure on the threshold, they lit up.

"Ah Zu! Why are you sitting here? It's windy, get inside!" Yan Hu's voice was hoarse, but it carried unmistakable concern.

Following him in was his mother, Su Qing.

She was petite and frail, and a piece of the hem of her green cloth dress had been torn away.

When she saw the conspicuous purple bruise at Yan Zu's temple, all her weariness turned to alarm.

Su Qing practically lunged toward him and cupped his little face in both hands. Her eyes reddened at a visible pace. "Ah Zu, where did you hurt yourself? Does it still hurt? It's Mommy's fault. I shouldn't have left you home alone..."

Yan Zu could smell the mixture of sweat and faint blood on her, and feel the warmth and slight trembling of her hands.

In more than twenty years in his previous life, no one had ever been so worried about him.

The aunties at the orphanage had been busy; keeping the children fed and warm had been hard enough. His teachers at school had cared more about his grades than whether he'd bumped or hurt himself. His classmates... had their own lives.

Some frozen corner of his heart, one even he had thought didn't exist, cracked open with a snap.

"Mom, I'm fine." He heard himself speak in a childish voice, even forcing a smile he thought sufficiently "innocent and naive." "It doesn't hurt anymore."

That clearly wasn't very convincing. Tears were already welling up in Su Qing's eyes.

"You little rascal, you scared your mother to death!" Yan Hu had already unloaded the half carcass and tossed it heavily into a corner of the courtyard, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He strode over, his great palm-leaf-fan-sized hand seemingly intending to pat Yan Zu on the head. But when it reached him, he abruptly stopped and gently ruffled his soft hair instead.

Then Yan Hu seemed to remember something. He grinned, a proud smile spreading across his face. Reaching into his shirt, he rummaged around and pulled out a small parcel carefully wrapped in oiled paper.

Yan Hu carefully rubbed the parcel against the front of his shirt before presenting it to Yan Zu like a treasure. "Look! See what good things Dad brought you!"

The oiled paper opened.

Inside were three fruits.

They were bright red and the size of a small child's fist, with translucent skin. In the dim twilight, they looked like three hearts filled with the concentrated glow of sunset, giving off a tempting sweet fragrance.

"Huo Yun Fruits!" Yan Hu lowered his voice, but couldn't hide his excitement. "Dad climbed a Huo Yun Tree over thirty meters tall and tangled with two ten-year Crimson Flame Birds for ages before he picked them! I heard these are good for children's health. Quick, try one!"

Yan Zu looked at the three fruits.

Then he looked up at Yan Hu.

The man's face was lined with furrows carved by hardship and exhaustion. His new wounds were still oozing blood, and he smelled of sweat and blood.

But his eyes shone astonishingly bright as he looked at the fruits. It was a pure, unreserved sincerity that said he wanted to give his child the very best.

Then he looked at Su Qing. She was still gently stroking the bruise on his forehead. Her hands also bore small cuts and calluses, and her clothes were stained with mud. She had risked danger to gather the herbs in her basket from the outskirts of the forest, both to supplement the family income and to nurse his health.

They were weak.

In a world where Soul Emperors, Soul Saints, and Titled Douluo were everywhere, they were as weak as ants.

They were poor.

His parents' patched clothes were proof of that.

They might not be able to give him heaven-shaking power, endless wealth, or powerful protection.

But they had given him everything they could-prey brought back from danger, fruits picked at the risk of their lives, and all their love.

Yan Zu reached out a little hand and picked up a Huo Yun Fruit. It was cool and heavy.

He put it in his mouth and took a bite.

"Crunch."

A crisp sound rang out. Sweet, refreshing juice burst across his mouth and slid down his throat.

Immediately afterward, a distinct current of warmth rose from his stomach and quickly spread through his limbs and bones.

"Is it good?" Yan Hu squatted down, his tiger-like eyes fixed on him without blinking, full of anticipation.

Yan Zu nodded hard, swallowed the flesh, and said in the clearest, most certain tone he could manage, "It's good! Thank you, Dad!"

Yan Hu slapped his thigh and burst into laughter, his voice booming like a great bell. "Hahaha! As long as you like it! Once Dad gets stronger and raises his Soul Power a few more ranks, I'll hunt you a real Hundred-Year Soul Beast! When that happens, Dad gets the Soul Ring, and the Soul Bone... I'll let you chew on the Soul Bone!"

"Talking nonsense again!" Su Qing's sadness was largely dispelled by his ridiculous words, and she gave Yan Hu's sturdy back a reproachful pat.

Yan Zu ate the fruit in small bites, feeling the warm current continue to nourish his body as he watched the simple but heartwarming exchange between the couple before him.

The courtyard grew quiet, filled only with the splashing of Yan Hu dressing the Soul Beast carcass and drawing water to wash it, and Su Qing's gentle voice as she picked up the herbs and softly asked Yan Zu about his day.

Night fell completely, and a crude oil lamp was lit. Its dim yellow glow filtered through the paper window, bathing the poor little courtyard in a warm orange.

Night deepened.

Yan Zu lay in his little bed, not sleepy at all. He began to calmly analyze his situation.

Spirit Hall existed and wielded enormous power, and an attendant came to the village every year to awaken the Martial Souls of children of the proper age. The timeline was at least within the Douluo I era.

His parents were wonderful people, which was his greatest emotional support, but their actual strength was best left unmentioned.

As for himself, he was three, physically weak, and his Martial Soul had yet to awaken. The only thing special about him was the addition of memories from another world.

But that wasn't enough, nowhere near enough.

"I have to gain the strength to protect myself as soon as possible." A sharp light unfitting for his age flickered in his dark eyes. "I can't pin all my hopes on awakening my Martial Soul at six."

Countless webnovel tropes he had read in his previous life flashed through his mind.

Binding something with blood? He smeared blood on the bed board and the wall-nothing happened.

Reciting incantations? He tried everything he could remember, from "prajna paramita" to "boundless heaven and earth, lend me your power," and even English-all he heard was a mouse running along the rafters.

Cultivating through visualization? He strained until he was dizzy, but got nothing.

After struggling for nearly half an hour, Yan Zu was out of breath and had nothing to show for it.

"Sure enough, novels are all lies." He sprawled on the bed, a deep sense of helplessness welling up in his heart.

Did he really have to live like a proper three-year-old, eating and sleeping, sleeping and eating, waiting until he turned six to leave his fate to Heaven?

No, he couldn't accept that. In his previous life, he had struggled up from the bottom of society on sheer stubborn refusal to admit defeat.

Just before his consciousness sank into darkness, an almost self-mocking thought flashed through his mind: If only I really had a system or something... it would save so much trouble...

It was just idle nonsense as he drifted toward sleep.

However-

[Host's soul fusion detected as complete. Self-awareness is clear, and will to survive meets the required standard. Conditions met. Check-in System officially activating...]

No dazzling light appeared, nor was there any deafening sound. As Yan Zu drifted in a daze, several lines of blue, translucent text, so simple as to seem almost frigid, appeared abruptly and clearly on the inside of his eyelids:

[Host: Yan Zu]

[Age: 3 years and 7 days]

[Plane: Douluo Continent]

[Today's check-ins: 1/1 (unused)]

[Consecutive check-in days: 0]

[Martial Soul: Unawakened.]

[System binding successful. You may check in once per day, at any time and in any location.]

[Please explore other functions yourself.]

Yan Zu's sleepiness instantly flew beyond the ninth heaven!

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding wildly in his chest!

It wasn't a hallucination!

A system!

There really fucking was a system!

Although the name "Check-in System" sounded a little like a knockoff, and its bare-bones interface gave off an "use it or don't" air of indifference, it was unquestionably a lighthouse in the darkness, a rope in a desperate situation!

Yan Zu pinched his thigh hard. It hurt! It wasn't a dream!

Then, using all his strength, he forced down the ecstatic shout that nearly burst from his throat, turning it into an utterly resolute thought:

Check in!