Thirty minutes later,
Wu Tong and Da Zhuang arrived at the village at a leisurely pace.
"Grandpa Karl, we're not too late, are we?"
Wu Tong grinned at the white-haired elder before them. The old man—Karl—was both the village chief of Panyan Village and the one who had taken Wu Tong in.
When Wu Tong first arrived in Douluo Continent, he'd been reduced to a helpless infant, left to wither beneath a tree outside the village. Had Karl not stumbled upon him that day, his transmigration might have ended as abruptly as it began.
The old man had brought him home, and since then, the two outcasts had become grandfather and grandson in all but blood.
"You little rascal! Hurry up and join the line—it's about to start!"
Karl scowled, though the twitch at the corner of his lips betrayed his feigned sternness.
Once Wu Tong slipped into the queue of children awaiting their awakening, Karl addressed them again:
"Listen well. A battle soul master from Nottingham City will arrive shortly to guide your awakenings. You must cooperate with him. This old man prays that at least one of you becomes a soul master."
An hour later,
A young soul master arrived, his presence snapping the children to attention—all except Wu Tong, who observed him with detached curiosity.
The man wore a black robe, its fabric so finely woven it seemed spun from clouds—light as air yet radiating durability. Silver cloud patterns shimmered along its length, their threads catching the light like drifting mist, lending an aura of mystique.
His hair, loosely tied, fluttered in the breeze, framing a face etched with casual arrogance.
On his left breast gleamed a badge: three crossed long swords—the mark of a Spirit Hall law enforcer. The swords denoted his status as a combat soul master, while their number—three—placed him at the 31st rank, the Soul Master tier.
Every movement exuded the ease of someone who'd performed this ritual countless times.
"Is this everyone?"
The question was directed at Karl, laced with the subtle condescension of one accustomed to deference. As a patrol deacon of the Spirit Hall, pride was his birthright.
"Yes, Soul Master! All the children due for awakening this year are present," Karl replied hastily.
"Good. Let's begin. I have several villages to visit today."
The man's tone was flat as he herded the group toward the village center.
The Awakening Hall—a modest hut maintained by grateful villagers—stood spotless, its wooden floors gleaming under sunlight filtering through the windows.
From his robes, the soul master produced two objects: six black, orb-like stones and a crystal sphere.
The stones would awaken their martial souls; the sphere, measure their spirit power.
As he arranged the stones on the floor, his gaze swept over the children. A flicker of anticipation stirred in his chest.
If I discover a talent here, the Spirit Hall's rewards will be substantial.
"Form a line. One at a time."
Once the children complied, he continued:
"I am Mo Xuan, a 31st-rank Battle Soul Master and your guide today. I will awaken your martial souls sequentially. Do not fear what comes next."
He beckoned the first child forward. Wu Tong, positioned at the line's end, watched with quiet focus.
Gasps erupted as Mo Xuan crossed his arms and bellowed:
"Flame Tiger—Spirit Possession!"
Fire erupted around him. His hair crimsoned, his pupils slit like a predator's. Red fur sprouted across his exposed skin as his muscles swelled grotesquely, claws elongating into metallic talons.
Beneath his feet, three soul rings materialized: one dull white (10-year), two lackluster yellow (100-year)—proof of haphazardly absorbed spirit beasts.
The transformation's ferocity froze the children in terror.
Mo Xuan sighed. "Stay still. This is my beast martial soul. If yours is similar, you'll gain such abilities too. Now—let's proceed."
The first child stepped into the array of black stones.
Mo Xuan clapped. Soul power surged, channeling into the stones until they emitted a golden light, encasing the boy in a shimmering dome.
When the light faded, a sprig of blue grass rested in his palm.
Mo Xuan's interest vanished.
"Blue Silver Grass. A useless martial soul. Let's test for spirit power."
The crystal sphere remained dark under the boy's touch.
"No spirit power. Next."
One by one, the verdicts fell like hammer blows:
"Shovel. No spirit power. Next."
"Ball of string. No spirit power..."
"Stick. No spirit power..."
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