"Where… am I?"
When Wudi Egun opened his eyes, his mind went blank. He stood among a crowd of boys around fourteen or fifteen years old—none of them familiar.
"Wudi Egun! You're next!"
The sharp call cut through the murmurs of the crowd.
Startled, Wudi raised his head and saw an old man in a silver robe staring straight at him. The elder's gaze was like a sword—cold, precise, and heavy enough to make Wudi's spine stiffen.
"What the hell…" he muttered. Why does he look like one of those old cultivators from a xianxia novel?
Even without doing anything, the old man gave off a terrifying pressure, as if he was a divine sword that could split the heavens.
"Wudi Egun!" the old man snapped again, his frown deepening. "It's your turn to awaken your Martial Spirit. Step onto the Martial Arena!"
Only then did Wudi realize where he was—a colossal hall, bright yet ancient in atmosphere. Before him stood a vast arena, and at its center was a towering stone stele, etched with runes that shimmered faintly.
Five old men stood behind it, all wearing the same silver robes. Their presence felt unreal—calm yet vast, as if their mere existence could disturb the balance of heaven and earth.
Swallowing hard, Wudi forced himself to walk forward.
"Place your hand upon the Martial Spirit Awakening Stele," one of the elders instructed in a solemn tone.
Still confused, Wudi hesitated for a heartbeat before obeying. The moment his palm touched the stone, a wave of searing heat erupted inside him—fierce, violent, and alive.
"What's going on?!" His thoughts turned frantic.
Just moments ago, he'd been lying in bed, ready to sleep after a long day. Now—this? A grand hall, strange old men, mysterious stones, and his name being called?
Wait… is this transmigration?
The idea sent a chill through him. He'd read enough webnovels to know what this meant.
"Martial Spirit Awakening…? Don't tell me I've fallen into some cultivation novel cliché!"
His mind raced. What if I awaken a trash Martial Spirit? No golden finger, no system… Am I just doomed to be bullied, beaten, and ridiculed until the plot kills me off?
"Damn it," he whispered, biting his lip.
The heat inside his body suddenly converged—straight into his eyes.
Then came pain.
Agonizing, blinding pain.
"AAAGHH!! MY EYES!!"
Wudi screamed as if his soul was being torn apart. He collapsed, rolling on the ground, his fingers clawing at his face. The burning sensation felt like molten iron being poured into his eyes.
"Nobody said awakening a Martial Spirit would hurt like this!!"
His cries echoed through the hall, but not a single person moved. The elders merely watched, their expressions unreadable, as if waiting for something.
The other boys stared in silent horror.
Minutes passed—long, unbearable minutes—until finally, Wudi's body went still. His breathing slowed. His trembling stopped.
And when he finally lifted his head again…
Something about his eyes had changed.
An old man stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he studied Wudi Egun's motionless body. Then, his pupils turned gold, radiating a brilliant aura that filled the entire hall.
"Heavenly Gaze…" someone whispered.
The technique revealed the nature of a Martial Spirit—its form, type, and grade. Yet as the old man's golden light reflected in Wudi's eyes, his own expression slowly shifted from calm to disbelief.
"This is…" he murmured, narrowing his gaze. "An eye-type Martial Spirit? I've never seen one like it before."
His voice trembled slightly as he continued, "Even I can't determine its grade… but there's no doubt—it's beyond First Rate. It may even be… a Paragon Martial Spirit!"
The hall erupted.
"What?! Paragon?!"
Gasps filled the room as the silver-robed elders exchanged startled looks.
In this world, Martial Spirits were divided into Third, Second, and First Rate. Anything beyond First Rate entered the realm of Paragons—Martial Spirits that defied understanding, the kind only recorded in myths.
Even the ancient Wudi Family, which had stood for countless generations, had only seen a handful of such existences.
For one to appear now, in the body of a fifteen-year-old boy… It was no small miracle.
"Paragon Martial Spirit… a true Heaven's Chosen," an elder muttered in awe.
The golden-eyed old man waved his sleeve, producing a small jade bottle. "Take this. Swallow it—you'll recover instantly."
Wudi, barely conscious, accepted the pill and struggled to swallow it. The moment it slid down his throat, warmth surged through his veins, erasing every trace of pain.
"…What the hell—this is a senzu bean or something?" he thought, blinking in disbelief as strength returned to his limbs.
He pushed himself up, standing shakily. His surroundings spun, yet his mind was now clear.
The old man, still watching him, stroked his beard thoughtfully. The longer he gazed at Wudi's newly awakened eyes—dark, void-like, as if they could swallow the heavens—the more satisfaction flickered across his face.
At last, he smiled.
"Wudi Egun," he said, his tone solemn but pleased, "I, Wudi Tian Qingshan, Master of the Disciplinary Hall, am offering you a chance. Join my hall as my direct disciple."
"Do you accept me as your master—or not?"
The entire hall fell silent. Even the other elders turned to him in astonishment.
The Disciplinary Hall was one of the three ruling halls of the Wudi Family—its authority so absolute that even the Family Head could be judged by it.
Becoming the disciple of its Master was no small matter—it meant being groomed as his successor.
Wudi blinked, still half in shock. He didn't understand all the details, but his years of reading webnovels had taught him one golden rule: when an old master offers to take you in—you kneel.
Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, pressed his forehead against the floor, and declared loudly,
"I, Wudi Egun, accept the elder as my master from this day forth!"
"If the Master wishes me to be an ox, I shall be his ox! If the Master wishes me to be a horse, I shall be his horse! If the Master tells me to go left, I won't dare go right!"
The hall went silent again.
Some of the elders exchanged glances. The disciples looked confused.
Wudi froze for a moment, realizing the words that had just come out of his mouth were straight out of every cheesy novel he'd ever read on Earth.
"…Ah, crap," he thought, his face twitching slightly. Too late to take it back now.
"Good! Good!"
Hall Master Tian burst into laughter, his booming voice echoing throughout the hall. "I didn't expect you to have such spirit, hahaha!"
His laughter carried genuine satisfaction. With a pleased smile, he helped Wudi Egun to his feet, then drew out a delicate jade box from within his sleeve.
"Here," he said, handing it over with both hands. "This is my Ghost Deity Cultivation Manual. I've cultivated it for three thousand years. As my disciple, you must inherit it."
Wudi blinked.
Three thousand years?
He stared at the smiling old man, utterly dumbfounded. Old man, you've been alive since before my country invented air-conditioning. Shouldn't you be in a museum—or a grave?
But he wisely kept that thought to himself and bowed respectfully, accepting the jade box.
Hall Master Tian chuckled. "The Ghost Deity Manual is a First-Rate Cultivation Technique. It contains several Earth-Rank Arts and even a few Heaven-Rank Techniques. Hahaha!"
He looked especially proud of himself. "In our entire Wudi Family, not even the Patriarch has access to so many Heaven and Earth Rank Techniques combined!"
As the old man laughed heartily, Wudi kept a polite smile frozen on his face—while his mind spun in confusion.
Earth Rank? Heaven Rank? What kind of ranking system is this?
He silently cursed. Would it kill them to give me a beginner's guide? At least a glossary or something?
Why couldn't he be like those lucky transmigrators from webnovels who arrived in a new world already fluent in ancient language, martial arts, and poetry?
Maybe he should've memorized a few Tang poems instead of meme quotes. At least then, he could pretend to be some "Heavenly Literature Saint."
He sighed quietly, accepting his fate. With a polite bow and forced grin, he followed his new master's gesture and began to leave the arena—aware of the countless envious eyes following him.
****
Once outside the grand hall, the tension drained from his shoulders. He had just begun to feel a hint of relief when—
"Wudi! You brat!"
A loud, warm voice came from behind. A slightly plump, middle-aged woman in simple robes hurried toward him, her round face glowing with pride.
"I didn't expect you to be chosen by Hall Master Tian himself! I'm so proud of you!" she laughed, hands on her hips.
Wudi blinked again. Who…?
Before he could speak, a sudden surge of images flashed through his mind—fragments of memories not his own.
This woman… was his mother. Gu Yin.
And the tall, lean man walking up behind her—calm smile, honest eyes—that was his father, Wudi Han.
"I'm proud of you, my son," his father said warmly. The simplicity in his tone somehow carried immense joy.
Wudi scratched his head, forcing a smile. "Ah… thanks, Father."
He was about to excuse himself when Gu Yin clapped her hands together.
"Now that you've become the direct disciple of Hall Master Tian," she said cheerfully, "it's time you got married!"
"…What?"
Wudi froze. His body stiffened as if struck by lightning.
"Don't worry," she continued enthusiastically, completely misreading his expression. "Su'er has been waiting for you since you were children. You're both of age now—it's time to make it official!"
"Wait, wait—hold on! I'm fourteen!" Wudi blurted out in disbelief.
"So what?" Gu Yin frowned, hands on her waist. "Your father and I married at twelve. And look how happy we are!"
"W–what the—"
Wudi turned to his father, seeking help, but Wudi Han merely nodded proudly, arms crossed like a man deeply satisfied with ancient tradition.
"This isn't Earth…" Wudi muttered under his breath, face pale.
The realization sank in. This is a pre-modern world—an ancient civilization where early marriages are normal.
And if he didn't want to stand out or get accused of "disrespecting tradition"…
He might actually have to marry.
At fourteen.
He stared blankly into the air for several seconds.
Wudi felt a deep sigh rising from his chest. Out of the tiger's den, straight into the devil's lair, he thought gloomily.
But before he could complain further, another wave of memories surged through his mind—vivid and heavy.
A small courtyard under the morning sun.
A little girl sitting in a wooden wheelchair, smiling as she held out a freshly picked flower.
Her name was Su Song.
The eldest daughter of the Su Family—kind, soft-spoken, and frail since birth. She had never been able to walk, relying on a hand-carved wheelchair to move about.
Since childhood, Wudi Egun and Su Song had been inseparable. Their families were close, and so were they.
The original Wudi had cared deeply for her—so deeply that even the fragment of that affection lingered within the body Wudi now possessed.
Su Song had always been gentle beyond her years, with the calm maturity of someone who had endured pain all her life.
And somewhere along the line, the two children had promised each other—one day, when they grew up, they would marry and take care of each other forever.
"…Ah."
Wudi rubbed the back of his neck, conflicted. His modern mind wanted to reject the idea immediately. He barely knew this girl personally. How could he marry her?
But the memories of the original Wudi made him hesitate. There was a quiet sincerity in those feelings that he couldn't ignore.
She's kind. And she's… someone he—no, someone I—once cherished.
He sighed in defeat. "As you wish, Mother."
Gu Yin's face instantly brightened. "Hahaha! That's my boy! Don't you worry—I'll arrange everything soon. I'm sure little Su'er will be overjoyed when she hears!"
Wudi could only smile weakly as she began humming cheerfully, tugging her husband along as they left the hall.
Trailing behind them, Wudi glanced once more at the grand Martial Spirit Arena now fading into the distance.
In one day, he had awakened a Paragon Martial Spirit, been accepted as the disciple of an ancient monster, and been betrothed to a girl he didn't even remember properly.
This world really doesn't give people time to breathe…
He exhaled softly, eyes dim. " I am too tired for this shit "