Holy Spirit Village
If one only heard the name, Holy Spirit Village, they might imagine a grand settlement, perhaps even a place of legend. However, in reality, it was merely a small village of about three hundred households, located south of Fasinuo Province's Nuoding City. Its name carried weight because, a century ago, a Spirit Sage-ranked Soul Master had once emerged from here. This legend had become the village's eternal pride, passed down through generations.
Surrounding Holy Spirit Village was an expanse of fertile farmland, where villagers toiled daily, growing grain and vegetables that would be transported to Nuoding City. Though Nuoding City wasn't particularly large, it sat near the border of another empire, making it a hotspot for trade between merchants of both great nations. This economic activity had ensured a better standard of living for the villages nearby, including Holy Spirit Village.
---
The young boy stood frozen in place, his mind racing as he processed the old woman's words.
"Holy Spirit Village…" he muttered under his breath, his silver-hued Shinragan eyes narrowing in thought.
The name triggered memories buried deep within his mind. This was the birthplace of Tang San, the protagonist of Douluo Dalu. The realization sent a shiver down his spine. He had been reincarnated into this world, but he hadn't fully grasped just how closely he was tied to the main story until now.
"Tang San... He should be here, right?"
A wave of emotions surged through him—curiosity, and a faint sense of wariness. If this was truly Holy Spirit Village, then that meant he was at the very beginning of the story's timeline. But how far along was it? Had Tang San already awakened his Martial Soul? Or was that event yet to happen?
His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he felt a strange energy in the air, something he hadn't sensed before. His Shinragan reacted, instinctively analyzing the flow of soul power around him. His enhanced perception allowed him to see the energy lingering in the environment—subtle, yet undeniably powerful.
"This… this must be the source of that strange feeling."
He focused, his silver eyes glowing faintly as he traced the energy fluctuations back to their origin. What he found shocked him.
"There's a concentration of soul power here… Someone incredibly strong is nearby."
A single name surfaced in his mind—Tang Hao.
Tang Hao—the youngest Titled Douluo of his time, wielder of the legendary Clear Sky Hammer, a man feared and respected across the continent.
The mere possibility of his presence sent a thrill down the boy's spine. If Tang Hao was here, then the plot hadn't truly begun yet. That meant he had time—time to train, time to understand his new Martial Soul, and time to prepare for the challenges ahead.
---
Shaking off his thoughts, he decided to blend in. Wandering through the village, he took in the sight of humble homes, children playing in the open, and villagers going about their daily routines. Despite its simplicity, there was something warm about this place—a peaceful atmosphere that felt oddly comforting.
Still, he needed more information.
As he approached a small clearing where some children were playing, an authoritative yet kind voice called out to him.
"Young one, I don't believe I've seen you around before. Are you from another village?"
The boy turned towards the voice, his Shinragan eyes quickly analyzing the figure before him—an elderly man with white hair, a neatly kept beard, and kind yet sharp eyes. He wore simple but well-kept robes, and there was a certain dignity to his posture.
"An old man… but he seems important," the boy thought. "He doesn't feel threatening, but he's definitely watching me closely."
Realizing the importance of first impressions, the boy quickly bowed slightly and responded politely.
"Hello, sir. I… I got lost while traveling. I don't really remember my village's name."
Grandpa Jack raised an eyebrow at the odd answer but didn't press the issue immediately.
"I see. Well, wandering children are rare, but not unheard of. My name is Old Jack, and I'm the village elder here. The children often call me Grandpa Jack."
The boy internally confirmed it—this was definitely the Holy Spirit Village from the story.
Grandpa Jack studied him for a moment before speaking again.
"You look like a smart child. Do you have a name?"
For a moment, the boy hesitated. In his past life, names carried meaning, identity. But here… here, he was someone new.
Finally, he spoke.
"My name is… Arthav."