Feeling the eyes of everyone around him, Chen Ming's heart was a mix of excitement and helplessness.
That's right—he wasn't a native of the Douluo world. He was actually a transmigrant from a certain blue planet.
Before crossing over, he'd been a struggling web novelist, barely scraping by on meager royalties. His only real talent—or perhaps a curse—was his heightened sixth sense.
From childhood to adulthood, he'd avoided death by sheer instinct: dodging runaway trucks, escaping gas explosions, surviving more than a dozen electrical accidents, and sidestepping countless bizarre disasters like slipping on ice or dodging falling flowerpots. In his circles, he was jokingly called "The Undying King."
But, as they say... you can beat death a hundred times, but death only needs to win once.
One day, on a whim, he was cleaning his house. While crouched down dusting under a bookshelf—reaching for a spot even his vacuum couldn't get to—the ground suddenly shook. Before he could react, the bookshelf toppled right on top of him.
It was a two-meter-tall solid wood bookshelf, fully stocked with books and decorated with chess pieces and other trinkets. Heavy was an understatement.
And just like that, Chen Ming died... and was reborn in the Douluo Continent. Whether it was fate or pure coincidence, his name in this new life was still Chen Ming.
At first, he only knew he'd landed in some kind of fantasy world. But as he learned the language and began to piece things together, he gradually realized he'd transmigrated into the so-called "trash-tier" xuanhuan world of Douluo. Even weirder, this version of the world still had the Spirit Hall, but he'd never heard of Shrek Academy or Tang Sect at all.
Honestly, ending up in the Douluo Continent wasn't the worst-case scenario.
He'd played Baldur's Gate 3 and the Warhammer series and had jokingly "signed his soul away" with the developers. If that curse had actually been real, he might've reincarnated into the Baldur's Gate world—or worse, into the hellscape of Warhammer.
And his bookshelf back home? Yeah, it had both Baldur's Gate and Warhammer figurines sitting on it...
All things considered, Douluo wasn't so bad, right?
When he was two years old in this life, his parents died while hunting soul beasts—just a single slip-up. By age three, he'd learned to read, speak, and run around. He was just beginning to wrap his head around the world and plot his rise when news hit: the Pope of the Spirit Hall, Qian Xunji, had been ambushed and killed by Tang Hao of the Clear Sky Clan.
That's when it really hit him: he was just three years older than Tang San.
And let's be honest, Tang San's reputation wasn't exactly unwarranted. Even though the Douluo 1 version of Tang San wasn't as ruthless as his Douluo 2 counterpart, he was still no saint—and his actions brought plenty of chaos to the continent.
If Chen Ming didn't get stronger before the world descended into chaos, he wouldn't have any options left. Better to sharpen your blade now than be forced to make regretful choices at knife-point later.
Whether he chose to side with the Shrek Seven Devils or oppose them, Chen Ming's main goal was to be strong enough to choose for himself.
He maintained a disciplined routine, splitting his sleep into multiple shifts to balance rest with more training. He wasn't picky with food, forcing down bitter medicinal stews, disgusting herbal pastes, and even half-dead bugs. Rain or shine, he worked out relentlessly. Before bed, he'd always ask his family to tell him everything they knew about the continent and its affairs.
Once he learned that his family's martial spirit had an inherent defect, he even asked them to build a little hut right inside the scorpion pit. Every so often, he'd move in and live alongside the scorpions, observing them up close—eating and sleeping with them—to try to mimic their habits as much as possible.
After years of this, he'd gotten so good at studying scorpions that he'd practically invented his own "Scorpion Fist" martial art. Even the brainless scorpions in the pit were now totally familiar with this two-legged giant who lived among them.
He didn't know any fancy internal techniques like Xuan Tian Art—he simply pushed his body to its limits, carefully training without causing permanent damage. That's how he'd built a body that was taller, more muscular, and more explosive than other kids his age.
And yet, despite all his effort... his innate soul power was still only at level five.
How to put it? He'd considered this possibility before, but deep down, he'd hoped he might awaken full innate soul power—or maybe even a twin martial spirit.
As Chen Ming was lost in complicated thoughts about his future, the skinny man who'd been detoxifying the other kids finished packing up his beads. In just a few quick steps, he came over to Chen Ming and reached out to touch the unconscious twitch of Chen Ming's scorpion tail.
"Second Uncle, be careful!" Chen Ming shouted instinctively.
He might've just awakened his martial spirit and didn't fully understand its power yet, but growing up in the Chen family, he'd had plenty of experience with the Emerald Scorpion and other poisonous creatures. His instincts were screaming that this toxin was not normal. Watching his uncle casually touch his tail, Chen Ming couldn't help but panic.
"I'm fine, I'm still a Soul Sect—I'm not that fragile…" his Second Uncle said with a laugh.
But mid-laugh, his face suddenly turned green, and his body swayed slightly.
As a veteran poison master, the man's reaction was lightning-fast. In the span of a single breath, he released his martial spirit: two yellow and two purple soul rings appeared around him.
With his Emerald Scorpion martial spirit fully activated and soul power surging, the green tint finally receded from his face. Still, he looked... not great.
The second-in-command of the Chen family—poison expert, powerful soul master—getting poisoned just from brushing against his nephew's martial spirit? Yeah... that was embarrassing.
"Ahem... Xiao Ming, you're a real prodigy, huh..." the man coughed awkwardly, trying to play it off. The onlookers were clearly trying not to laugh, but no one dared make a sound.
The strongest soul master in town was still the Spirit Hall's local overseer, Yan Jun, a level 67 Control-type Soul Emperor. Next was the Chen family's current patriarch, a level 54 Control-type Soul King.
Poison wasn't particularly useful at the Title Douluo level, but before Soul Saint level, it was a serious threat. History was full of high-level soul masters who'd gotten themselves killed by underestimating poison specialists.
Even if Yan Jun had been 20 years younger, his level 67 soul power might still not have been enough to guarantee victory over the Chen family's head. The Emerald Scorpion's poison was notorious—even a graze could leave same-level soul masters half-dead. Forget people—even 10,000-year soul beasts could be turned to mush by this stuff.
That's why, even though the Chen family was dwindling in numbers and nearly extinct, they were still considered the de facto top power in town. No one dared to make a move against them, even though everyone in the city was just itching to take a bite out of their territory.
(End of Chapter)