Born in the year 2613, the last thing he remembered was a god's searing light and the silent flash of a trident. Now, he was here. Trapped in a tiny, helpless body, his mind a storm of memories and his new body's overwhelming sensations. He was a baby. Again.
Through blurry eyes, he saw a woman with hair like swirling violet and green mists. She looked at him with a love that felt as fragile as glass. Beside her stood a man with hair the color of jade, his eyes filled with adoration, yet he held back, a quiet fear in his stance. And watching them both was a man, his Rank 89 Spirit Douluo grandfather, with the same vibrant green hair, his face a mask of love and profound sorrow.
His inner self was not that of a child. It was the soul of Li Ming, a man who had died at the age of 33. In his past life, he was a commoner and an orphan. His spirit, a useless Flower Snake, had cursed him to a life of struggle. Though he was smart and worked relentlessly, his talent was wasted. He clawed his way into the Spirit Pagoda, an organization that controlled the very essence of soul power. He saw its corruption, the secrets they hoarded, and the power they kept from the world. Technology, he believed, should be for everyone. It was his mission to find a way to share it.
That ambition led him to the hidden secrets of divine power. But as he touched the core of this forbidden technology, a god appeared. He saw only a silhouette of immense power, a being wreathed in light, with a trident that glowed with a divine aura. He felt no pain. He was simply snuffed out.
Now, in this new life, he felt something strange inside him. Inside his very soul, a faint warmth rotated, a slow, gentle hum of energy. It was a fragment of the power that had killed him. He knew it instinctively. It was divine energy, and it was slowly, constantly strengthening his tiny, helpless body from within.
Weeks went by in the quiet, grand mansion. His parents often watched him from a distance, their faces filled with love, but also deep worry about their own failing health. He heard them talking in hushed tones, fearing they would not live long enough to see him grow. It was a painful kind of love, a fragile beauty he had never known before. He hated his baby body, the helplessness and the simple needs that kept his brilliant mind captive. He longed for the freedom to move, to think clearly, to plan.
Then it clicked. The green hair. The strange, quiet mansion. The fear in his parents' eyes. He was in the Dugu Bo household. He was the eldest grandson of the infamous Poison Douluo, the very man his future enemy, Tang San (who he now knew was 15 years his junior), would one day face. This family, and his own grandfather, would one day be key players in the rise of a new hero, a spirit master prodigy. The protagonist knew the story from his past-life research, but the face of the god who killed him remained a mystery. He had a new goal: to gain enough power to one day find the god with the trident and get his answers.
He was a scion of poison, a genius reborn with a divine gift and a thirst for revenge. This time, he would not be a weak commoner. This time, he would not be just a man. He would be a god, and he would not be defeated.