Douluo Continent, southwest region of the Heaven Dou Empire — Fasino Province, Holy Soul Village.
In the early hours of dawn, as the faint light of the sky began to chase away the stars, a rooster's crow broke the silence. The echoes of crowing quickly spread through the entire village, and the moon slowly faded away.
At the northernmost edge of Holy Soul Village, in its most remote corner, sat a small, shabby courtyard.
On the rooftop of this courtyard, a young boy about five or six years old slowly opened his eyes as the rooster crowed.
If anyone had seen him at that moment, they would've been terrified — his eyes were pitch black, with no whites at all, as though ink had been poured into them. A faint black mist lingered around his gaze, eerie and unsettling.
Fortunately, the phenomenon lasted only a brief moment before fading away. His eyes returned to normal, sharp and bright as he rose to his feet.
He had short, messy black hair, plain clothes, pale skin, and a naturally intense gaze that carried an oppressive edge.
Suddenly, his eyes narrowed as he spotted a familiar figure in the distance — a little boy slipping out of the village, headed toward a nearby hill.
"So, Tang San's gone up the mountain to train again, huh? I wonder how far his Xuantian Technique has gotten by now… Based on the timeline, Su Yuntao should be arriving soon," he muttered to himself.
The sharp glint in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by a thoughtful glow.
His name was Jiang Chen, a child of Holy Soul Village. But unlike Tang San, he wasn't loved or admired. Quite the opposite.
In the village, Jiang Chen was regarded as a walking disaster. People called him all sorts of names — "Broom Star," "Harbinger of Misfortune," even "God of Plague." Whether it was people, animals, or even the land itself, anything that got too close to him ended up in a miserable state.
And yet, at this very moment…
Crack—crack—crack!
Jiang Chen stretched his body, his bones letting out crisp pops. A crooked grin tugged at his lips as he jumped off the rooftop — not cautiously, but boldly, straight down from several meters high.
He landed as lightly as a feather, without a single scratch. For a six-year-old child, this kind of agility and physical prowess was nothing short of monstrous.
Brushing the dust from his pants, he was about to hum a tune when something caught his eye.
In the corner of the yard, two plump pheasants in the chicken pen were lying eerily still, their feet pointed skyward.
"My chickens!" Jiang Chen let out a heartbroken cry and rushed over.
Reaching into the pen, he poked the pheasants. Their bodies were cold and stiff — dead beyond saving.
"What a waste…" he muttered bitterly.
He reached out and placed his hand on them, and something strange occurred. A faint black mist slowly drifted from the pheasants' corpses, flowed into his palm, and then vanished into his body.
As the mist was drawn out, the two once-fat pheasants shriveled rapidly, becoming skinny husks.
Jiang Chen casually picked up the dry corpses and turned to leave.
The courtyard behind him was eerily quiet and lifeless. Not a single blade of grass grew from the cracked, parched earth. It was as if all life had been drained away — completely at odds with the lushness of the rest of the village.
The two dead chickens and the barren yard were not coincidences. Everything had been caused by him.
The aura that unconsciously radiated from his body could drain life. Weaker creatures died outright, while stronger beings fell gravely ill. Even the ground itself couldn't endure his presence for long.
That was the true reason the villagers feared him — why he was known as the God of Plague.
Still, despite the loss of two good chickens, Jiang Chen was an optimistic person. With a shrug, he carried the bird corpses outside the village to bury them and give them some semblance of peace.
Afterward, he didn't return home. Instead, he headed toward the nearby river.
"Can't go without meat today," he muttered. "I'm still growing — not like that nerd Tang San, always pushing himself with cultivation and starving like a monk."
Compared to Tang San's skinny frame, Jiang Chen had a well-built body with defined muscles — quite rare for a child his age.
He was already familiar with catching fish bare-handed. Within half an hour, he returned carrying three fat fish tied together with straw, hoisted proudly over his shoulder.
As he passed by the hill where Tang San trained, he spotted the boy descending after his morning session.
"Hey! Tang San!" Jiang Chen called out cheerfully.
Tang San froze at the sound of his voice. He looked up and forced an awkward smile.
"You're up early, Jiang Chen!"
Jiang Chen approached, but Tang San instinctively backed away a few steps, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
"D-Don't come too close!" he said quickly, waving his hands in alarm.
Even with the Xuantian Technique protecting him, Tang San had felt the eerie aura that Jiang Chen emitted. That cold, bone-chilling energy had once slipped past his defenses — and had nearly caused him to fall ill.
If not for his inner strength, he might've been bedridden for days.
It was at that moment Tang San realized: this childhood companion… was not someone ordinary.