Chapter 1: Picking Up an Old Man at the Start
Douluo Continent, God Realm.
The clouds shifted endlessly—sometimes surging like crashing waves, other times serene like a slumbering beauty. Each transformation followed no pattern, yet it was breathtaking, awe-inspiring.
Deep within the God Realm, the sealed essence of the Golden Dragon King, locked within the God Realm's core, trembled faintly. A streak of crimson-tinged golden light tore through space and streaked toward the lower realm. A faint voice echoed with a trace of anticipation, "I don't have much time left."
At the peak of the God Realm, bathed in divine golden radiance, stood a majestic palace—shimmering under the celestial glow. This was the God Realm's highest point, the center of its authority.
The God Realm Committee resided here, tasked with judging gods and maintaining the laws and order of the divine realm.
Inside the palace's octagonal main hall, the walls were devoid of decoration but displayed countless ever-shifting images—each a live projection of a different world, each screen representing a planet in the human realm. From here, the committee monitored the many worlds across the starfield.
At the center of the hall was a round table, forged from an unknown material. Upon close inspection, one could see swirling mist on its surface, deep and boundless.
In front of these displays stood a figure cloaked entirely in dark red demonic patterns. Surrounded by a malevolent red glow, his form was shrouded in mystery. Only his armor, inscribed with twisted demonic runes, could be seen clearly.
Suddenly, the figure drew a two-meter-long blood-colored greatsword. Its broad, slender blade shimmered with dark golden demonic patterns, emanating an overwhelmingly sharp killing intent. Without hesitation, he slashed—a crimson arc of sword light slicing toward the lower realm.
"Shura…"
A furious roar shook the God Realm. Deities turned their gaze skyward. "Another unfortunate soul crossed paths with the Asura God," they murmured. Yet, the four other God Kings frowned and turned toward the sealed core of the God Realm.
The dark red figure smirked in disdain at the Golden Dragon King's location, then glanced at the fading golden light he had just obliterated. His body dissolved into golden mist and vanished above Douluo Star.
But no one noticed a faint wisp of purple energy. From an unknown place, it surged forward—gathering remnants of golden mist as it raced toward Douluo Star.
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Douluo Continent – Borderlands
Two great empires divided the land: the Heaven Dou Empire and the Star Luo Empire, locked in a centuries-long rivalry. The Heaven Dou Empire boasted a million-strong army; the Star Luo Empire took pride in its powerful soul masters. Though both sought unification, a balance of power remained.
At the boundary of both nations stood the Spirit Hall, the sacred domain of soul masters. Acting as a neutral force, it maintained peace between the empires—ushering in a rare era of stability.
Nestled near this border was Majai Village, a small settlement of six hundred households. As the name suggested, most villagers inherited the Horned Horse spirit, used primarily for transport. Mutations granting soul power were rare, and most residents lived as ordinary folk.
However, horse-type spirits had a natural advantage in taming steeds. As a result, Majai Village became a well-known horse market straddling the empire borders.
Outside the village, robust horses galloped freely. Villagers busied themselves—taming, feeding, and training the animals. Elders watched from their courtyards, smiling at children herding chickens or walking dogs. The whole village was a lively picture of pastoral peace.
As dawn broke, a pale shimmer lit the eastern sky. On a nearby hill, no more than a hundred meters tall, a gray frog stood atop a two-meter-high rock, staring at the rising sun—dreaming foolishly of becoming a prince.
Suddenly, the sky darkened, and the world seemed to flip. The startled frog opened its eyes only to see a massive, two-legged creature seated where it had just been. With a mournful "croak," the frog was flung downhill like a stray leaf.
Seated atop the boulder was a young boy, around five or six years old. Bathed in the morning sunlight, his skin gleamed a healthy wheat color. His short black hair was neat, and although his clothes were simple, they were meticulously clean—showing his preference for tidiness.
The boy furrowed his brows, troubled by something. Moments later, he opened his bright eyes and sighed. "Still not working? Looks like only Spirit Awakening can break this bottleneck. Grandpa Village Chief said the Great Spirit Master from Spirit Hall is arriving tomorrow to awaken our spirits… I wonder what mine will be. Dad's Earth Antelope, or Mom's Fire Scale Horse?"
His name was Dugu Chen.
He had lived on the Douluo Continent for five years. In his previous life, he had just graduated college—only to find himself inexplicably transmigrated. From panic to acceptance, he adapted.
At first, he dreamed of the usual transmigrator fantasy—awakening a powerful spirit, punching Tang San, kicking Spirit Hall, marrying a few Douluo beauties, ascending to godhood, and living carefree.
That fantasy shattered at age three.
Both of Dugu Chen's parents were soul masters, possessing mutated spirits—an earth-type antelope and a fire-type horned horse. Though their innate soul power was low (only level 3), they had still become Great Soul Masters, making Dugu Chen the so-called "crown prince" of the village.
Three years ago, his father broke through to Soul Elder, and the couple hired a soul hunting team to obtain their third rings.
Two months later, their cold corpses returned home. Dugu Chen's illusion of a safe world collapsed. This was a realm where strength dictated fate, where law meant nothing unless backed by power.
From then on, Dugu Chen trained on the hill every morning, mimicking Tang San's methods—absorbing purple qi at sunrise. Whether it helped or not, he persisted. Any improvement mattered.
He stood atop the boulder, gazing at the sunrise. "Didn't think that Grandpa Village Chief's meditation method, combined with my naturally strong spiritual power, would let me cultivate internally before Spirit Awakening. I wonder—am I special? Or could anyone with strong spiritual power do this?"
He clenched his fists, feeling the strength he'd built. "Three years of training... I felt my soul power fill up six months ago. Tomorrow, I should awaken with innate full soul power. I hoped to break the ten-level cap, but maybe only divine spirits can do that."
"I've done everything I can. Whether I survive in this world depends on tomorrow's spirit."
With that thought, he leapt down and began running toward the village. His agile steps were faster than most adults.
Halfway down, Dugu Chen abruptly stopped. His ears twitched—he heard heavy breathing.
"Injured… someone's here," he muttered. That area was usually deserted. Only Grandpa Village Chief came looking for him sometimes. Could he be hurt?
Dugu Chen rushed toward the source of the sound. Within moments, he reached a dense thicket and pushed aside the brush.
There, lying at the base of a tree, was an old man—severely wounded, dressed in tattered luxurious robes. His hair and beard were dark green, and his face twisted in pain.
Dugu Chen stared. The old man looked strangely familiar.
"Green hair… could this be Dugu Bo? Who else has hair this green? But how did he get so badly hurt?"
As he examined the man, Dugu Chen's eyes sparkled with growing excitement—like Ma Hongjun spotting a pair of twins.
"This must be Heaven compensating me for not having a cheat—by sending me an old man instead!"
Without hesitation, Dugu Chen hoisted the old man onto his back and ran home like the wind, as if carrying nothing at all.