The wind in the Holy Spirit Village carried the faint scent of soil and woodsmoke, drifting lazily under the golden glow of the early morning sun. Farmers were already at work in the fields, their simple chatter echoing between the small mud-brick houses. To the villagers, it was just another peaceful day.
For Ayan, it was the beginning of something much larger.
He sat on the low wooden steps of the village chief's home, legs dangling, bare feet brushing against the dirt. His small hands clutched a smooth pebble — not because he liked playing with it, but because it helped him focus. His mind was far from that of a four-year-old.
So this is it… Douluo Continent.
He had read about it, watched it unfold, debated the "power scaling" online with strangers he'd never meet. And then… nothing. Darkness. When he opened his eyes again, he was lying in an alley in this village, just a starving, nameless child. The village chief had taken him in out of pity. That was a year ago.
A loud voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Ayan! You're spacing out again."
He turned his head and saw Tang San jogging toward him, a bamboo stick in hand, face bright with childish energy. The boy was his age, with neat black hair and clear, determined eyes.
"Come with me to the back mountain," Tang San said, holding out the stick like a sword. "I'll teach you something fun."
Ayan smirked. Tang San didn't know it, but he already knew where this was heading. The boy in front of him would one day become a god, armed with the hidden arts of Tang Sect. And Ayan? He planned to be there for every step… but also carve out his own legend.
"Alright," Ayan replied, hopping down from the steps. "But let's make it a race. First one to the creek wins."
The two boys darted through the village, past houses, startled chickens, and an old man cursing as they almost knocked over his bucket. Tang San was fast, but Ayan had learned how to pace himself — not to win today, but to study his friend's movement.
At the creek, they splashed water on their faces. Tang San began showing him how to use the bamboo stick like a short spear. Ayan followed along, but in his mind, he was already mapping out his first goals:
1. Spirit Awakening Ceremony — less than two years away.
2. Choose the right path without disrupting Tang San's fate.
3. Grow strong enough to survive every major arc.
When Tang San wasn't looking, Ayan glanced at the clear stream water. His reflection showed a thin, healthy child, but his eyes… they were sharper than any child's should be.
In this world, I already know the script, he thought. But this time, I'm not just going to watch the story. I'm going to rewrite it.
As the sun dipped lower, the two boys headed back to the village, the sound of crickets filling the air. Tang San chattered about the things he wanted to learn when he grew up. Ayan listened, half-smiling, already planning the first divergence in the tale.