In the southwest of the Heaven Dou Empire, within Fa Sinuo Province, lay Wangjia Village. It was an unremarkable settlement near Nuoding City, its sole purpose to supply the city with grain and vegetables.
Vast tracts of farmland surrounded the village, dotted with farmers toiling under the sun. Among them was a young boy, skillfully wielding a hoe to weed the fields. To ensure a good harvest, weeding and catching pests were essential tasks.
His name was Wang Li, and he was six years old. The name was a simple one, given after his mother died bringing him into the world. He had survived, but was separated from her at birth.
A few years ago, wild boars had descended from the mountains to ravage the crops. The adults of the village tried to drive them away, but their thick hides made them formidable foes for ordinary people. The effort ended in tragedy, with many casualties—Wang Li's father among them. From that day on, Wang Li was truly alone.
Though only six, he had been toiling in the fields for three years. Thanks to his diligence and the occasional help from the village chief and his neighbors, the labor didn't break him. Instead, it forged a body far stronger than other children his age. He had the sturdy build of a ten-year-old, with healthy, wheat-colored skin and well-defined features framed by thick eyebrows and large, determined eyes. In the city, he might not draw a second glance, but in the countryside, it was clear he would grow into a handsome young man, well-known in the surrounding area.
Soon, the sun reached its zenith, beating down with scorching heat. Even the adults began to wilt, let alone a child like Wang Li.
He put away his farm tools and walked briskly toward his small home at the western edge of the village. The usual emptiness of his yard was different today; an old figure was sitting there, waiting.
Seeing the old man, Wang Li broke into a naive smile and called out, "Grandpa Village Chief, what brings you here?"
The old man was Wang Ping, the village chief of Wangjia Village, and he lived up to his name, for he handled all matters with fairness. He had always looked out for the orphaned Wang Li.
Wang Ping regarded the boy with a gentle and satisfied gaze. Like more than half the residents of Wangjia Village, he shared the surname Wang, connecting them by a thin thread of blood. But more importantly, Wang Li was an obedient, sensible, and diligent child. For a farmer who lived off the land, laziness was a death sentence. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, Wang Li was on track to become a fine young man and a pillar of the village, not some idle layabout. From a practical standpoint, a diligent worker like Wang Li was an asset to the village's future.
Wang Ping beckoned for Wang Li to put down his tools. "Xiao Li," he said kindly, "your life is hard, working in the fields every day at such a young age. But you won't have to go tomorrow. The Spirit Masters from Spirit Hall are coming to our village to awaken the Martial Spirits of all the six-year-old children. If you can awaken a powerful Martial Spirit, you can become a Spirit Master! You'll be one of the elite and never have to toil in the fields again!"
As he spoke, Wang Ping's eyes filled with envy. On the Douluo Continent, all professions were considered lowly, save for that of the Spirit Master.
Wang Li smiled. "I understand, Grandpa Village Chief. It's wonderful that Spirit Hall sends a Spirit Master to awaken our Martial Spirits, even in a small village like ours."
Wang Ping nodded in agreement. "Yes. So, be at the village hall early tomorrow. We can't keep a Spirit Master waiting. Though you've lost your parents, you're the one I worry about the least. I believe you can awaken a powerful Martial Spirit!"
A knowing glint appeared in Wang Li's eyes. "Thank you, Grandpa Village Chief. Maybe I really will."
Wang Ping just shook his head and smiled wistfully. As the village chief, he had seen too many children awaken their Martial Spirits, but never one that was truly powerful. An accumulation of disappointments had taught him to temper his expectations. Though he hoped for a Spirit Master to emerge from his village, his heart remained guarded.
Getting to his feet, Wang Ping said comfortingly, "Well, perhaps our village will finally have a powerful Spirit Master. I must go now, on to the next house!"
Wang Li smiled and waved. "Goodbye, Grandpa."
Watching Wang Ping's departing figure, Wang Li's thoughts began to race. It's finally starting. The Martial Spirit awakening… What kind of Spirit will I have? What path will it set me on?
Wang Li's confidence stemmed from a secret: he was not from this world. In his previous life, the Douluo Continent was a story in a book, one he knew quite well.
He had "awakened" at the age of three—not his Martial Spirit, but the memories of his past life. His memories from before that age were a blur, but the knowledge from his previous world had flooded his mind. He theorized it was a protective mechanism of his young brain, sealing away memories his infant body couldn't handle. It fit with the common understanding that most people don't retain clear memories from before the age of three.
With the mind of an adult who had been a simple worker, Wang Li had quickly grasped the villagers' attitudes. While other children were still crying and playing, he had already picked up farm tools and headed for the fields. His motto was simple: one helps the desperate, not the idle. By proving he was obedient, sensible, and hardworking, he showed he would never be a burden. Seeing this, the kind-hearted neighbors were more than willing to lend a hand. Had he been lazy, no one, no matter how poor, would have wanted another mouth to feed.
For three years, he had been a farmer. Now, a whole new world was about to open up to him.
In high spirits, Wang Li pushed open the door to his simple house and strode to the kitchen. He lifted the lid of the pot on the stove, revealing half a pot of cold rice porridge. He skillfully scooped a bowl, pairing it with some pickles, and sat near the hearth to eat.
This was his staple meal. He longed for meat, but his circumstances didn't allow for such luxuries. The porridge provided energy, the pickles provided salt, and the combination, along with his hard work, had given him a strong, satisfying physique. He wasn't sure if his robust body was related to his yet-to-be-awakened Martial Spirit and innate spirit power, but being tall and strong was always better than being small and frail.