The faint fragrance of incense drifted through Blueleaf Village's Soul Hall, mingling with sunlight that spilled through worn wooden windows. The awakening platform stood bathed in gold and dust motes, while the voices of children echoed softly beneath the vaulted ceiling.
Su Yuntao, a deacon of the Soul Hall, stood before them with the composed air of habit. His eyes, calm yet weary, held the faint resignation of a man too familiar with disappointment. Villages like this rarely birthed geniuses, yet duty was duty.
"Alright, children," he said, his tone steady but kind. "Let us begin the awakening ceremony."
The first child stepped forward nervously. "Li Su," Su Yuntao read from the register, placing a hand upon the crystal orb. Soul power flowed, and light shimmered briefly before revealing a dull sickle.
"Try touching the testing crystal," Su Yuntao instructed.
The boy obeyed. The crystal remained dim.
"No soul power," Su Yuntao said softly. "You may return."
One by one, the next few children stepped forward — and one by one, disappointment followed. The air grew still, heavy with the weight of quiet hopes fading. Finally, Su Yuntao looked down at the list and read the last name.
"Sanhartha."
The boy stepped forward. He looked calm, but beneath that composure lay a heart that beat faster with each step.
Few knew that behind those steady eyes dwelled a soul not born of this world. Once, on a distant world called Blue Star, he had been an ordinary college student — a quiet lover of books and stories. A sudden fire, born from a simple short circuit, had ended that life in an instant. Yet death was not his end. When he opened his eyes again, he was an infant in this land of martial souls — the Douluo Continent. Six years had passed since then, years he spent observing, learning, and waiting for this day.
Su Yuntao regarded him with mild curiosity. "You are the last for this year. Let's see what fate grants you."
Sanhartha nodded and placed his small hands upon the awakening crystal.
Su Yuntao infused soul power. Light spread like rippling water, flowing upward in a warm current that enveloped the boy. The air shifted — faint at first, then building, pressing gently against the walls.
Sanhartha felt the energy surge through him, stirring something deep within — a dormant pulse that felt older than his body. Suddenly, heat flared across his chest, and a luminous crimson shadow burst forth behind him.
A phoenix.
Its wings unfolded in silent majesty, each feather gleaming with golden-red light. The faint hum of its presence filled the hall, sharp yet harmonious, like the echo of a sacred flame.
For a heartbeat, no one moved. Even Su Yuntao's practiced composure cracked as awe flickered in his gaze.
"A phoenix martial soul…" he breathed. "How rare…"
Recovering quickly, he retrieved the testing crystal and placed it before the boy. "Now, test your innate soul power."
Sanhartha touched the crystal. It blazed instantly, its light steady and deep.
"Innate soul power, level four," Su Yuntao declared, his tone brightening. "Excellent. With effort, you can definitely become a soul master. Would you consider joining the Soul Hall?"
Sanhartha hesitated briefly. Though grateful, he already carried his own quiet plan. "Thank you, Master Su, but I wish to study first at Notting Junior Soul Master Academy. I will decide my future after that."
Su Yuntao smiled faintly. "A wise child knows his path. Good."
When the ceremony ended, he led the group to Village Chief Luo's house. "Chief Luo," he said, "this year, one child has awakened soul power. He may become a soul master."
The old chief's eyes shone with both surprise and pride. "Truly? After so many years…" His gaze rested upon Sanhartha, and something in his old heart softened. "Good child, your parents would be proud."
Su Yuntao handed him a parchment stamped with a silver seal. "This is his martial soul certificate. It will allow him to enroll at Notting Junior Soul Master Academy."
After the ceremony, as dusk descended, the village grew calm. Warm light spilled from cottage windows; the scent of evening woodsmoke filled the air. Sanhartha stood outside the Soul Hall, the crimson hue of his martial soul still faintly shimmering within his eyes.
He looked up at the setting sun, a faint smile touching his lips.
"So it begins," he murmured. "This time… I will forge my fate with my own hands."
The wind passed gently through the fields, carrying the faint rustle of grain and the echo of a distant phoenix cry. Beneath that fading light, the boy's journey quietly began — not as the chosen, but as one who chose himself.