Douluo Continent
Holy Spirit Village
By the village well, a thin figure hoisted two full buckets of water with practiced ease. His white robes were faded and patched at the hem, but they moved like smoke around him, too graceful for someone hauling water before dawn.
"Thank you, Wu Lan!" an old woman called out from her doorway, waving with a worn hand.
The boy nodded with a gentle smile. "Be careful walking on the steps, Granny Liu. I swept them this morning, they might be slick."
Wu Lan was... peculiar.
He had lived in Holy Spirit Village for six years. His hair, white even as a child, had grown into a long, pale curtain down his back. His eyes were the color of still water: calm, unreadable.
But more than his strange appearance, it was his nature that stood out. Quiet. Polite. Always helping.
He fetched water for the elderly, mended roofs with the men, picked herbs with the healer. He asked for nothing in return.
The villagers liked to joke, "If you hurt yourself, Wu Lan will show up before you even say 'ow'."
They called him soft. Gentle. A natural caregiver.
No one feared him. No one saw him as a threat.
And Wu Lan? He never corrected them.
After finishing his chores, Wu Lan walked the familiar stone path to the edge of the village, where a small house stood under a large tree. It was simple: one room, one window, and a bamboo fence that barely held together. But it was his.
The door creaked as he stepped inside.
He set the buckets in the corner, straightened the floor mats, and sat on a wooden stool by the window, watching the mist slowly rise from the fields.
These quiet mornings gave him time to think.
Two years ago, he had opened his eyes in this very body, chest burning, vision full of tears that weren't his. The original Wu Lan, a gentle, sensitive child of only four, had died from sickness and a broken heart after losing both parents to a wild spirit beast.
He didn't know how or why it had happened. Whether it was reincarnation, punishment, or fate, he couldn't say. But he remembered his past life clearly. That world had no Martial Spirits, no Spirit Rings, and no cultivation. Just books, tall glass buildings, and noise. So much noise.
At first, the memories came in pieces: strange dreams and names he didn't know. But over time, they blended with his own. Now, he was Wu Lan. And Wu Lan was him.
This second life hadn't been cruel.
The villagers hadn't abandoned him. Instead, they showed him kindness. Quiet, steady kindness. Warm food in winter. Lanterns hung outside his door during festivals. Soft smiles.
They had saved him without even knowing it.
"I owe them everything," he said softly, brushing his hair behind his ear with a smile as light as the morning breeze.
In a few days, he would turn six, the age when every child on the Douluo Continent awakened their Martial Spirit.
I didn't get a system these past two years. Probably never will.
After accepting that reality, just having soul power… and marrying a kind, beautiful girl is enough.
He wasn't expecting much.
A broom, perhaps. Or a pan. Something quiet. Something safe.
Not like the ones in the old legends, whose spirits roared into being like thunder, whose fates were written in flame and steel.
After a while, Wu Lan stood and stepped outside. The morning mist had begun to lift, and the faint sun peeked through the clouds, turning the leaves gold.
He stretched his arms, rolled his shoulders, then walked toward the small clearing behind his cottage.
The ground was uneven, the grass still damp, but it didn't matter. This was where he trained every morning, long before the village woke.
He started with slow breathing, drawing in air through his nose, holding it, then letting it out gently. Again and again, until his mind felt calm and clear.
Then the movements began.
Push-ups. Squats. Jumps. Stretches.
They were simple exercises. Nothing flashy, nothing special. But he repeated them with care and focus. His small body, still growing, ached with each round. But he didn't stop.
This world was beautiful… and dangerous.
Wu Lan knew from the memories what happened to people without strength. How even kind souls could be swallowed by wild spirit beasts, greedy nobles, or the cold rules of cultivation.
He remembered clearly: this was a world where the strong preyed on the weak. The strong could split mountains. Kill without blinking. Clans wiped out in a single night. Orphans sold, forgotten, crushed beneath power.
He was handsome. Without strength, he would become a toy in the hands of nobles.
And he remembered the lesson he had learned:
Even if you want peace, you must be strong enough to protect it.
So, every morning, he trained. Quietly. Alone.
To the villagers, he was gentle Wu Lan, the quiet boy with soft hands and a soft smile.
But inside, he was preparing, slowly building the strength his future might demand.
He was finishing his final set of jumps when a familiar voice called from the front gate.
"Wu Lan! Are you home?"
He wiped his hands on his sleeve and walked around the cottage.
At the gate stood Village Chief Jack, a short, broad man with a kind face and a walking stick made from polished bamboo. His beard was gray, his back slightly bent, but his eyes still held a spark of energy.
"Yes, Grandpa Jack," Wu Lan said politely, a gentle smile on his face. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Wu Lan," Grandpa Jack replied with a smile. "You're up early, as always. Come, I have some news for you."
Wu Lan opened the gate and stepped aside to let him in.
"The Spirit Hall representative has arrived in the next village. He'll be here tomorrow morning for the Awakening Ceremony," Chief Jack said, resting one hand on Wu Lan's shoulder, his eyes full of expectation.
Wu Lan's heartbeat quickened with worry, but his face stayed calm.
"Don't worry, Grandpa Jack. I'll become a Soul Master," he said softly.
Chief Jack gave him a warm smile. "I know you're quiet, but don't be afraid. No matter what your spirit is, we'll still be proud of you."
"Thank you, Grandpa Jack," Wu Lan replied with sincere gratitude.
The old man turned to leave, then paused. "Ah, and make sure you eat well today. Tomorrow's important."
"I will Grandpa Jack"
As Chief Jack walked down the path, Wu Lan looked up at the sky. The clouds had parted. The sun was shining brighter now.
Tomorrow, his spirit would awaken.And the world would take its first real look at Wu Lan.