An insect martial soul? Sigh, another useless one.
On the Douluo Continent, inside the Awakening Chamber of Hongshan Academy, a soul awakener's voice rang out. Standing before him, the small boy pressed his lips together in silence.
Realizing that his words may have been a bit too harsh, the soul awakener quickly added,
"Don't be discouraged, child. You do have innate soul power."
"I—I have soul power?" the boy asked in surprise.
The soul awakener nodded. "I just did a quick test. Your innate soul power is Level 1. It's not outstanding, but it's something. As long as you work hard, you can still become a soul master!"
The boy paused for a moment. "But... but my martial soul is just a bug…"
The soul awakener smiled. "Have you ever heard the story of the Tang Sect? The founder's main martial soul was Blue Silver Grass. Two thousand years ago, he conquered the continent with what was considered by many to be a completely useless martial soul and even defeated the evil Spirit Hall."
"But wasn't the Tang Sect founder's martial soul the Blue Silver Emperor?" the boy asked seriously.
"Uh…" The soul awakener looked slightly embarrassed. This little guy clearly wasn't so easy to fool. "The Blue Silver Emperor also evolved from Blue Silver Grass. If you want to become a soul master, then work hard."
The boy bit his lip. "Thank you, sir."
After leaving Hongshan Academy, the boy—Nan Fusheng—turned back to glance at the street in front of the school. It was already packed with families bringing their children to awaken their martial souls.
Luckily, he had arrived early.
"Dad, what do you think my martial soul will be?" a cheerful voice rang out nearby. A little boy, just six years old, looked excitedly up at his father.
Nan Fusheng turned to the voice. He saw a boy with short black hair, a bit taller than average for his age. His most striking feature was his eyes—clear, wide, and bright, with long lashes that would put many girls to shame. His clothes were plain, but his looks made him stand out.
Tang Wulin.
Seeing the protagonist of this world, Nan Fusheng smirked slightly and turned away, no longer interested in the conversations behind him.
Nan Fusheng's home was in the civilian district of Ao Lai City. Back at the small house, he muttered to himself as he entered, "I'm home." Shaking his head slowly, he thought, Still not used to this…
"So this is my martial soul?"
He raised his right hand. A translucent insect slowly materialized in his palm. He stared at it.
Sigh... I actually transmigrated into the timeline of "Legend of the Dragon King."
But at least in this era, I don't have to worry about being monitored by Third Brother from the Divine Realm. With my cheat, I've got a guaranteed path to godhood!
Yes, Nan Fusheng was a transmigrator. One moment he had been sitting at home, watching the Douluo Dalu drama on TV while scrolling through the Lord of the Mysteries web novel. Just as the show hit the famous line—"You have chosen the path to death"—everything went dark.
When he opened his eyes again, he had transmigrated. Unfortunately, the body he landed in was born into a shattered family: the father abandoned them, the mother was a madwoman, and Nan Fusheng himself seemed like an accident.
For a brief period after he was born, things had been normal—young love, a new baby, a happy home. But then, the arguments began over trivial matters. Verbal abuse turned into indifference. Eventually, they became strangers.
And then... he died once already.
Around three months old, he died from starvation. His father had run away. His mother had gone off to enjoy herself and practically forgot she had a child.
Day One: Hungry, crying for food.
Day Two: No one came. He stopped crying.
Day Three: Died of starvation.
Then... the cheat activated.
Am I dying? Starving to death... what a joke.
Darkness surrounded him, tinged by the crimson light of death. Chaotic thoughts filled his mind, impossible to control.
Suddenly, he felt the air around him change—thick and oppressive. It stopped moving altogether. A strange stillness took hold.
Then came the whispers—sometimes delicate, sometimes sharp, sometimes seductive, sometimes maddening. He couldn't understand a word, but still he listened, drawn to the eerie murmurs.
Pain stabbed through his head, like a steel spike had pierced his skull. His thoughts became hazy and surreal. He knew something was wrong and tried to open his eyes—but even that was impossible.
His body tensed, stretched to its limit. Just as he was about to collapse entirely, the cacophony of whispers faded. Silence fell. The oppressive atmosphere vanished.
But not just the atmosphere—his body felt like it was floating.
This time, when he tried to open his eyes, they responded easily.
A sea of gray mist unfolded before him—vague, boundless, endless.
What… what is this?
Nan Fusheng looked around in stunned confusion. He glanced down and saw himself drifting at the edge of this endless fog.
"Origin Castle."
That phrase surfaced in his mind. He suddenly realized he existed now in a spiritual form.
Corresponding Pathways: The Fool, Error, Door.
Associated Outer Gods: The Lord of Mysteries, King of Time and Space, Beacon of Fate, Embodiment of Origin Castle, Master of the Spirit World.
This string of cryptic information flooded into his mind—then, without warning, the gray mist kicked him out.
When he woke up, he was still alive. A lingering power remained in his mind—just enough to get him through the "novice phase."
Through study and reflection, he figured out that this mysterious place must be the Origin Castle from Lord of the Mysteries.
Life really is unpredictable. I was just watching TV and scrolling a web novel, and suddenly—bam, transmigration.
If I had known, I would've been readingReverend Insanity, Battle Through the Heavens, or Perfect World!
Then I'd be soaring right now…
No, the real culprit is still Third Brother.
I know it's not really your fault, but the last thing I heard before I transmigrated was:
"You have chosen the path to death."
Well, Third Brother... you've chosen the path to death too.
After spacing out a while, Nan Fusheng made his way to the kitchen. He had a simple meal, checked the time, and decided to go out and train.
That's right—Thief training.
Nan Fusheng was already a Sequence 9: Thief.
In the world of Lord of the Mysteries, the power system for humans was built around Sequence potions, each progressing from Sequence 9 to Sequence 0. Beyond Sequence 2, the levels become even more complex.
Nan Fusheng's current identity was that of a Thief.
Hard to compare to ordinary pickpockets or burglars—Thieves of this kind have exceptional skill. They steal not for pleasure or survival, but as if fulfilling a mission.
As a Thief, he had:
Enhanced physical ability
Mastery of daggers and short blades
A clear understanding of the "role" of a Thief
Extraordinary Abilities:
Theft: Easily steal items from a target's pocket without being noticed
Agile Hands: Enhanced control, precision, and flexibility in fingers and wrists
In this world, taking a potion wasn't enough—you had to digest it. And the way to digest it was to act in alignment with the Sequence's core concept.
To digest the Thief potion, Nan Fusheng had to actually act like a Thief. That also became his primary source of income.
But he always had a line—he never stole more than what was needed for a meal or a day's living expenses. He avoided the poor (who had little) and the wealthy (who might be soul masters). They weren't worth the risk.
Instead, he targeted weak thugs with no soul power. Using his Thief skills, he could take what he needed before they even noticed.
This was his Thief's Code:
"A Thief must not be too greedy."
In Lord of the Mysteries, potion digestion could be seen as mastering a "profession." One had to understand the core principles of that role and let both body and mind adapt to it—become a socially accepted version of that profession.
Only when society could look at you and say, "Yes, that's a Thief / Lawyer / Writer / Beast Tamer," could the potion be considered fully digested.
But one crucial rule remained:
You are only playing that role. Deep inside, you must remain yourself.
After a day of training, Nan Fusheng returned home and went to bed.