Chen Yu's heart pounded as he slipped through the village, sticking to the shadows of the low-roofed houses. The night was cool, the air thick with the scent of pine and earth, but the hum in his chest was a sharp, insistent pulse, like a drumbeat urging him to move faster. The footsteps he'd heard outside the barn echoed in his mind—deliberate, too precise to be a villager or a stray animal. Someone, or something, had been watching him, and the thought sent a chill down his spine. In Douluo Dalu, curiosity from the wrong source could mean death, especially for a kid with a strange martial soul and no real power to back it up.
He reached the orphanage without incident, slipping through the back door and into the cramped room where the other kids slept. Their soft snores filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension coiling in his gut. He lay on his straw mat, eyes fixed on the ceiling, but sleep wouldn't come. The hum in his chest was too loud, too restless, and that sense of being watched lingered, like a shadow just out of sight. He needed answers—about his martial soul, about the presence he'd felt, about whatever was stalking him in the night. But answers meant risk, and he was already walking a thin line with Spirit Hall breathing down his neck.
Morning came too soon, the clang of Old Mei's spoon against the pot jolting him upright. His body ached from the previous day's training, and his head felt foggy, but he dragged himself out of bed, pulling on his tunic with mechanical precision. Liang Hao was already up, chattering about their next session with Instructor Gao Lin. Chen Yu nodded along, barely listening, his thoughts still on the barn and the shadow in the moonlight.
The square was bustling when they arrived, villagers setting up stalls for the weekly market. Gao Lin was waiting, his white robe pristine despite the dust kicked up by passing carts. His sharp eyes scanned the boys, lingering on Chen Yu a moment too long. "You look tired," he said, his tone neutral but probing. "Trouble sleeping?"
"Just excited, sir," Chen Yu lied, forcing a smile. "Ready to train."
Gao Lin raised an eyebrow but didn't press. "Good. Today, we focus on soul power circulation. You'll learn to channel it through your body, not just your martial soul. It's the foundation of combat and soul ring integration." He gestured to the mats. "Sit. Same as yesterday—find your soul power, but this time, guide it through your limbs, like blood in your veins."
Chen Yu sat, closing his eyes and reaching for the hum in his chest. It came easily now, a warm current that flowed from his core. He pictured it moving through his arms, his legs, his fingers, but the sphere's presence was there too, pulsing in sync, almost eager. He kept it suppressed, not daring to summon it with Gao Lin watching. The instructor's warning about secrets echoed in his mind, and he couldn't shake the feeling that Gao Lin was testing him, looking for cracks in his story.
Liang Hao struggled beside him, his breathing uneven as he tried to guide his soul power. "This is hard," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead. "Feels like I'm chasing my own tail."
"Focus," Gao Lin snapped, pacing between them. "Soul power is a river. You don't chase it—you direct it. Chen Yu, your flow is strong, but it's erratic. Smooth it out, or you'll burn yourself out before you ever get a soul ring."
Chen Yu nodded, adjusting his focus. The hum steadied, and he felt the soul power move more evenly, warming his limbs without overwhelming him. It was progress, but the sphere's presence was still there, tugging at his attention, whispering in a way he couldn't quite hear. He pushed it down, focusing on the exercise, but the effort left him drained.
The morning passed in a blur of meditation and circulation drills. Gao Lin was relentless, correcting their posture, their breathing, their focus. By noon, Liang Hao was sprawled on the mat, panting, while Chen Yu sat quietly, his mind racing. He was getting better at controlling his soul power, but the sphere was another matter. Every time he touched it, even mentally, it felt alive, like it was waiting for him to unlock something.
"Break for lunch," Gao Lin said, dismissing them with a wave. "Be back in an hour. We'll start basic sparring this afternoon."
Liang Hao groaned, hauling himself up. "Sparring? Already? I can barely feel my legs."
Chen Yu managed a half-smile. "You'll be fine. Your wolf pup's got some bite, right?"
Liang Hao grinned, but his enthusiasm faded as he noticed Chen Yu's distraction. "You okay, Yu? You've been weird since yesterday."
"Just tired," Chen Yu said, standing. "I'll catch up with you later."
He slipped away before Liang Hao could press, heading not to the orphanage but to the edge of the village, near the stream where he'd first seen his reflection. He needed a moment to think, to plan. The sphere, the shadow in the forest, Spirit Hall's interest—it was all piling up, and he felt like he was drowning in a world he barely understood. He sat on a rock, staring at the water, and let his thoughts drift.
The novels had been his escape as Ethan, a way to forget his mundane life. Now, they were his only guide, but they weren't enough. Tang San had a teacher, a clan, a clear path. Chen Yu had nothing but a weird soul and a head full of half-remembered plot points. He knew Spirit Hall would push him toward their agenda, and he knew his martial soul was dangerous, but what could he do? Run? Hide? He was a six-year-old with no money, no family, and no strength beyond his soul power.
The hum in his chest pulsed, sharper this time, and he froze. It wasn't just his nerves—it was a warning. He glanced around, the stream's gentle ripple the only sound. Then, a faint rustle came from the trees across the water. His heart leapt into his throat. Not again.
He stood, backing away slowly, his eyes scanning the shadows. The rustle came again, closer, and a figure stepped into view—not a soul beast, but a person. A girl, maybe a year older than him, with dark hair tied in a loose braid and sharp, curious eyes. She wore a patched tunic like his, but her posture was confident, almost defiant. A faint trace of soul power clung to her, weaker than Gao Lin's but stronger than Liang Hao's.
"Who are you?" Chen Yu asked, his voice low, ready to bolt.
She tilted her head, studying him. "You're the kid with the weird soul, right? Chen Yu? I saw you at the ceremony. That sphere thing—it's not normal."
Chen Yu tensed, his hand twitching as if to summon the sphere, though he knew better. "What do you want? And how do you know my name?"
She smirked, crossing her arms. "Village isn't that big. Everyone's talking about you. I'm Lin Xiao. My martial soul awakened last year—level three, nothing special. But yours? It's got people nervous. Including Spirit Hall."
Chen Yu's stomach dropped. "What do you mean, nervous?"
Lin Xiao stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Deacon Wei was talking to the elder after you left yesterday. Said your soul's aura feels… old. Like it doesn't belong here. They're sending a report to the main branch. You know what that means, right?"
He did. Spirit Hall didn't just train soul masters—they controlled them. A soul like his, unclassified and powerful, would draw attention from higher ranks, maybe even someone like Bibi Dong in the future. He forced his face to stay calm. "Why are you telling me this? What's in it for you?"
Lin Xiao shrugged, but her eyes were sharp. "I don't like Spirit Hall. They act like they own us just because we've got soul power. And you—you don't seem like you're drinking their tea either. Figured you should know what you're up against."
Chen Yu studied her, weighing her words. She seemed genuine, but in this world, trust was a luxury he couldn't afford. Still, she'd given him information he needed, and that was worth something. "Thanks," he said cautiously. "But why were you following me?"
Her smirk faded. "I wasn't. I was out here practicing. My soul's a dagger—not much, but I'm working on it. Saw you sneak off and got curious. You're not exactly subtle, you know."
He flushed, realizing how reckless he'd been. "Fine. Just… don't tell anyone you saw me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Deal. But you owe me one. And watch your back, Chen Yu. Spirit Hall's not the only thing out here."
She turned and vanished into the trees, leaving him staring after her. Her words echoed in his head—his soul's aura felt old. The vision in the barn, the starry void, the sphere's sentient presence—it all pointed to something bigger, something he wasn't ready for.
He headed back to the square, his mind racing. Sparring with Gao Lin was next, and he needed to focus, to act normal. But Lin Xiao's warning and the shadow from last night gnawed at him. As he rejoined Liang Hao, Gao Lin's eyes locked onto him, sharp and unyielding. The hum in Chen Yu's chest pulsed, a reminder that his soul was waking up—and so was the danger.