Douluo Continent: Martial Soul - Hades Sword, Lord of the Underworld

Chapter 1: Transmigration! The Hades Sword Awakens on Its Own! Innate Soul Power Level 2!

When his consciousness returned, Mingfei smelled the scent of soil.

It wasn't the kind of moist soil that had been tilled, but rather dry, cracked wasteland soil mixed with withered grass roots and gravel, carrying a choking, dusty smell.

There was something hard against his back, like a stone that had been baking in the sun all day.

He opened his eyes.

The sky was overcast, without sun or clouds, just a uniform, lifeless gray-white.

It was like a giant dirty rag covering the sky, absorbing all the colors.

Ming Fei froze for a few seconds, then suddenly sat up.

This is not his rented room.

There was a water stain on the ceiling of his rented room that looked like a toad. Every morning, the first thing he did when he opened his eyes was to stare at that toad in a daze.

But now there's nothing above my head, only that eerie gray-white sky.

The surrounding area was a wasteland.

Gravel, dry grass, a few scattered crooked shrubs, the distant horizon undulating, no buildings or people in sight.

The wind blew by, carrying an indescribable smell—not the scent of flowers, not the scent of grass, but a kind of…dried-up bloody smell, faint and elusive.

It's as if someone bled on this land long ago, and that smell seeped into the soil, refusing to dissipate.

Mingfei looked down at himself.

He wore a coarse linen coat, a dull gray color, with frayed edges on the cuffs and a short hem that revealed a section of his thin wrist.

Her hands were small, with distinct knuckles and fair skin, but there was a faint scar on the back of her hand, as if she had been scratched by something.

This is not his hand.

He should have calluses on his hands from playing video games, a cut on the side of his index finger from peeling an apple, and a small dent on his left ring finger from being caught in a door.

But none of these were available.

This hand was smaller and more delicate than his own, and apart from the scar, there were almost no other marks.

My mind suddenly exploded into chaos.

It was as if countless fragments were flooding in at the same time—images, sounds, smells, emotions—all crammed into his consciousness.

He saw a baby crying in a dilapidated wooden hut, a two- or three-year-old child crawling in the mud, and a pair of rough, large hands lifting him up and throwing him down.

I saw wilderness, hunger, being kicked aside, huddled in a corner to spend the night...

Those images were fragmented and fleeting, like an old book torn to shreds, with only a few pages remaining.

But these fragments were enough for him to piece together a fact.

He crossed.

He transmigrated to the Douluo Continent and possessed the body of an orphan.

This orphan has no name, no parents, and not even a complete childhood memory.

He was found in the wilderness, then abandoned, wandered between several remote and impoverished villages, and finally collapsed on this wasteland, suffering from a persistent high fever and delirium.

Then he came.

Mingfei closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He had read about time travel countless times in novels, but the absurdity of it happening to him was still far beyond his imagination.

He should have been panicked, terrified, and crouched down, covering his head to process the fact—but he didn't have time.

Because something inside his body is awakening.

At first, it was just a chill that crept up from deep within my chest, like a cold thread spreading outwards along my blood vessels.

The thread was so fine and light that he would hardly have noticed it if he hadn't been so focused on sensing his own body.

But soon, the coolness turned into chill, and the silk threads turned into a river.

A tremendous force exploded from his core, surging wildly along his meridians.

That power was cold, sharp, and carried an indescribable chilling aura. Wherever it passed, the originally blocked meridians were forcibly widened.

It was as if someone had used an ice pick to carve out channels in his body.

pain.

But it wasn't that sharp, stinging pain; it was a deep, aching soreness that went deep into the bone marrow, like countless needles piercing your veins at the same time, or like your entire arm being pressed against an ice block until it went numb.

Ming Fei gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, but he didn't make a sound.

He sensed it—it was soul power.

In the original owner's memories, people in Douluo Continent have martial spirits and soul power, but they need to go through a ritual at the Spirit Hall at the age of six to awaken them.

The original owner of this body was almost seven years old and had never participated in any ceremony, nor had anyone ever guided him.

But now, the martial spirit has awakened on its own.

Soul power is surging.

Level 1, Level 3, Level 5, Level 8...

He clearly sensed that the threshold being breached, level ten, level twelve, level fifteen—the speed slowed down, but it was still increasing.

That icy power surged through his body like a burst dam, until it found an outlet.

Right palm.

All the cold power began to converge on his right hand, surging and churning beneath his skin, as if something alive was searching for a way to break free.

Ming Fei subconsciously opened his palm, and a faint light seeped out from his palm, slowly condensing into the shape of a sword.

The sword was over three feet long, completely black, so black that it didn't reflect light, as if it had swallowed all the light.

The sword has dark red patterns on its blade, one after another, like dried blood vessels or some kind of ancient inscription, extending from the guard to the tip.

A gray gemstone, so transparent it was almost transparent, was embedded in the hilt of the sword. Something inside was slowly rotating, like a half-open, half-closed eye.

Hades Sword.

Three words automatically surfaced in his mind; they weren't the name he had chosen, but rather the name the sword had told him.

That is its name, and also its martial spirit.

Eighteen patterns appeared on the sword, each emitting a faint gray light, like eighteen sleeping eyes breathing in the gray light.

At the same time, he sensed another presence.

Deep within his consciousness, in that place he could not see but could clearly perceive, a space was taking shape.

A gray sky, scorched earth, and billowing gray fog in the distance—that was the sky and wasteland he had seen when he opened his eyes just now.

No, it wasn't him who saw it.

It is the sky of the underworld, the land of the underworld.

Underworld.

It was a world that existed alongside his own, an independent dimensional space, and was firmly bound to his soul.

At this moment, it is desolate, lifeless, and barren, shrouded in gray mist, like a ruin forgotten at the end of time.

But Mingfei could feel it breathing, it expanding, it waiting.

He perceived himself "standing" on that scorched earth, with cracked ground beneath his feet and a gray sky above him. In the distance, gray fog slowly churned, as if something was wriggling within it.

That's his magic touch.

It wasn't the Hades Sword, nor was it innate soul power, but rather this accompanying world—a world that could grow, expand, and accommodate the dead.

Mingfei opened his eyes and withdrew from his consciousness.

He looked down at the Hades Sword in his hand. The eighteen patterns on the sword had faded, leaving only the lightest layer of gray light, as if it had sunk into a deep sleep.

He tried to retract his martial spirit into his body, and the black sword transformed into a beam of light that disappeared into his palm, leaving only a faint coolness.

Then he began to sense his own soul power.

Level 20.

Innate soul power level 20.

.....