Douluo: The Celestial Book

All rights reserved to the respective authors.

"Dialogue": Represented in double quotes for conversations between characters.

'Thoughts': Represented in single quotation marks, indicating the characters' internal reflections.

[Diary]: Represented in square brackets, used for messages intended for the heroines or entries written by Tenshin.

-------------------------------

South of Nuoding City, Holy Spirit Village

Bathed in warm, golden sunlight, a small hill overlooked Holy Spirit Village, its gentle slopes embracing the peaceful hamlet below. Nestled along the southwestern edge of the Heaven Dou Empire, this secluded haven carried the fresh scent of earth, mingling with the distant, innocent laughter of children. Yet beneath this tranquil scene, one child's inner turmoil lay bare.

"Three years! Three long, endless years and nothing—no system, no miraculous power, no cheat-like ability. Nothing!"

He exhaled deeply, as though his sigh alone could dispel the weight of his anxiety.

Tenshin Satoru lay on the grass, his silver hair, streaked with shimmering golden highlights, fanned out like delicate strands of gleaming silk. His deep blue eyes, flecked with silver, gazed into the infinite sky, desperately searching for answers that refused to come. Though his face remained calm, his heart churned with a storm of frustration and hope.

Since his rebirth into this world—at once strange and yet hauntingly familiar—he had borne the crushing burden of uncertainty. No guiding hand of fate, no spark of an otherworldly gift to validate his very existence. In a universe where destiny was meant to be forged by strength, he remained powerless.

As if recalling a half-forgotten dream, he remembered being only three years old when the memories of his previous life surged back. Now, at six years old, he waited with bated breath for the awakening of his martial soul—a moment upon which he had pinned all his hopes since regaining his past memories.

In his previous life, Tenshin had been the archetypal university student—introverted yet driven by an insatiable intellectual hunger. His razor-sharp, insatiably curious mind had delved into various subjects, from philosophy and physics to chemistry, programming, and meditation. Yet his true passion had always been fiction. He devoured literature of every genre, absorbing a world of ideas and emotions with equal fervor. Beyond books, he trained rigorously in parkour and martial arts, honing reflexes sharp enough to react with lightning speed and precision.

One fateful night, as he crossed a desolate street, headlights flared into existence—a truck barreling toward him from the void. The impact was instant, hurling him into the air with bone-shattering force. As blood pooled beneath him and darkness clawed at his vision, he could have sworn the truck was driverless—as if fate itself had written his demise. Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, the truck vanished into the night, leaving behind a shattered body and a mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

At the very brink of consciousness, one final, desperate thought took hold. With trembling fingers, he groped for his shattered phone—and in one absurdly defiant act, cleared his browsing history. In that moment, he made peace with a simple truth: people may die, but society endures. He refused to suffer a social death—even as the cruel irony set in: he had been isekai'd by Truck-san.

Three years had passed. Tenshin now lay sprawled beneath the vast sky, his gaze empty, lost in the boundless blue. Since regaining the shattered echoes of his past life, he had clung to an expectation—no, a demand—that fate would answer him. But nothing came. Only silence. Only the slow erosion of hope, carving unseen scars into his restless soul.

Since regaining his memories in Holy Spirit Village, Tenshin recalled only fragments of his actual life before the memories of his past existence surfaced—faint memories of parents lost to savage soul beasts and a fate placed in the hands of the village elder, Old Jack.

Today was the day of his martial soul awakening—the single event upon which he had pinned all his hopes for a new destiny. And yet, doubt still gnawed at him.

"Maybe today will be different…" he murmured, allowing a fragile sliver of hope to pierce the suffocating doubt—if only for a moment.

He expected nothing extraordinary. In truth, he cared little whether his martial soul was spectacular or unremarkable—so long as he had even a modest amount of soul power. Without that spark, he could never hope to become a soul master, and that hope was all he had left.

His thoughts drifted to Tang San, the famed protagonist of this era's tale. In his previous life, when he first read Douluo Dalu, Tenshin had revered Tang San. Yet, after reading the sequels and revisiting the original story, that admiration crumbled. In his eyes, Tang San had become a study in hypocrisy—selfish, manipulative, and disturbingly convinced of his own righteousness, even when clearly in the wrong. The very idea of befriending such a man now struck him as absurd, almost laughable.

Just then, as if summoned by fate, a voice rang out from afar:

"Tenshin! I knew you'd be here. Come on—the awakening ceremony is about to begin!"

Startled, Tenshin sprang to his feet. "I'm coming, Grandpa Jack!" he called, his voice a mixture of urgency and reluctant hope.

Old Jack—the venerable elder who had cared for him—seized Tenshin's arm and guided him forward. "I hope you become a soul master, Tenshin. Our village is thriving, yet no one here has awakened a martial soul in years, not since the Spirit Douluo who gave this village its name."

For a moment, Tenshin was speechless. If he could choose, he would wish for nothing more than to awaken a martial soul truly worthy of cultivation. Yet fate, it seemed, had other plans. For now, hope was the only lifeline he had.

As they walked toward the community house—a modest wooden structure serving as the heart of the Spirit Hall—Tenshin took in every detail of his surroundings, imprinting them onto his mind. The fields exuded the rich, fresh scent of wet earth; distant hills, bathed in the golden glow of the rising sun, pulsed in rhythm with the rapid beating of his heart. Barefoot children dashed past, their laughter ringing out, momentarily dispelling the tension coiled within him.

He slowed his steps deliberately, determined to savor this fleeting moment. The aroma of freshly cut grass mingled with the cool, damp soil, while the gentle songs of birds provided a soothing counterpoint to his inner storm. Even the murmur of a nearby stream—a sound that usually soothed him—felt strangely distant today.

Then, a familiar voice yanked him back to reality—Grandpa Jack's firm call:

"Come on, Tenshin! We can't keep the Soul Master waiting!"

With a deep, resigned sigh, Tenshin resumed his pace. The warm wind caressed his silver hair, yet inside him, a different fire burned—a volatile mix of anticipation and the gnawing fear of powerlessness in a world ruled by strength.

Old Jack led him to the community house—a modest wooden structure built by Spirit Hall to guide the village's children in awakening their martial souls.

Tenshin was the last to arrive. As his gaze swept across the crowded room, it landed on a small boy standing slightly apart—thin, with unruly black hair and an air of quiet unease. A flicker of recognition crossed his mind. That boy was none other than Tang San.

"Dear Soul Master, everyone is here. Thank you for waiting," Old Jack intoned respectfully, nodding toward the man at the front of the room.

Standing at the front was Su Yuntao—the man Tenshin once knew as "Blind Douluo" in his previous life. Despite his stern bearing, Su Yuntao's unexpectedly warm demeanor toward the villagers gave him an air of both authority and approachability.

"Alright, we have little time to waste," Su Yuntao declared, his voice steady yet commanding. "Let's begin the ceremony. Children, line up—I will awaken your martial souls."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "I am Su Yuntao, a 26th-level Great Soul Master. I will guide your awakening. No matter what happens—do not be afraid."

With practiced precision, Su Yuntao reached into his pouch and retrieved six smooth black stones, along with a cool blue crystal ball. He arranged them meticulously into a hexagonal formation and then bellowed a command: "Lone Wolf, possess!"

In an instant, a purple, wolf-shaped martial soul materialized behind him. The air thickened with palpable pressure as Su Yuntao's muscles tensed; two brilliant spirit rings—one white, one yellow—ignited beneath his feet, casting dancing shadows along the walls.

The children recoiled in fear; some even burst into tears, their faces pale with dread. Tenshin, too, felt the overwhelming pressure bearing down on him, his body instinctively taking a step back. No longer a mere observer, he was now at the very heart of this transformative ritual—a spectacle both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Even in the midst of his apprehension, Tenshin noticed that Tang San, though visibly shaken and pale, remained steadfast. In his previous life, even if Tenshin had disliked Tang San, he would have acknowledged him. Now, however, the subtle tremor in Tang San's right hand betrayed his composed posture.

Turning his gaze back to Su Yuntao, Tenshin mused silently, 'So this is what a soul master looks like.' The ritual pressed on, each moment heightening his inner turmoil and hope.

Su Yuntao, having noted both Tenshin's and Tang San's reaction, seemed to harbor a silent hope that both might awaken martial souls imbued with genuine, potent power.

One by one, children were called forward. The first child stepped into the formation. Su Yuntao instructed him to stand within the hexagon and infused the formation with soul power. Moments later, a sickle-shaped martial soul flickered into existence in the child's grasp.

"Blue Silver Grass," Su Yuntao sighed softly, gesturing for the child to place his hand on the crystal ball. It glowed faintly, revealing that, despite his efforts, the child possessed no soul power. With a disappointed shake of his head, Su Yuntao moved on.

Next, another boy approached. "A hoe—no soul power," Su Yuntao declared, and the room filled with palpable disappointment.

After four children, Su Yuntao finally called Tenshin's name. For a moment, Tenshin hesitated before stepping forward, his heart pounding like a frantic drumbeat. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he stepped into the formation as anticipation shimmered around him. Su Yuntao infused the hexagon with soul power. A brilliant golden flash erupted around Tenshin, flooding the room with pulsating, overwhelming energy. Despite the scorching heat, his thoughts remained unclouded, razor-sharp. Every cell in his body resonated with the surge as he felt the energy course powerfully through his right arm. As the golden glow intensified, a majestic aura began to coalesce around him, gradually condensing into a floating object.

As the radiant light subsided, an awestruck silence fell over the hall. An ancient book materialized above his palm. Its dark-blue cover, faded with time, was adorned with worn golden arabesques, while mysterious runes pulsed softly with an inner light.

"A tool-type Martial Soul?" Su Yuntao's eyes widened in surprise. His voice, tinged with confusion and disappointment, followed: "A… book?"

Tenshin remained silent—not from shock, but because the emergence of the book flooded his mind with intricate knowledge. It revealed that his Martial Soul, which he named Celestial Book, granted him the ability to process information at breathtaking speed and endowed him with uncanny intuition. Combined with the natural instincts and well-honed understanding he had nurtured in his previous life, this gift formed the perfect match.

A wave of relief washed over him. His Martial Soul was not ordinary, which meant it could be cultivated. There was hope.

After a brief pause, Su Yuntao gestured for him to place his hand on the crystal ball. He carefully examined the readings as its surface flared brightly, analyzing Tenshin's innate soul power. "Congratulations! Your innate soul power has reached level seven. With your exceptional talent, barring any unforeseen circumstances, you are destined to become at least a Spirit Douluo in the future," he announced. His tone, however, carried an undercurrent of confusion and disappointment.

"According to the records of the Spirit Hall, there is no mention of any soul master whose Martial Soul is a book. All those who awakened this type of Martial Soul were unable to cultivate. Therefore, your Martial Soul can be considered no better than Blue Silver Grass"

Before the words could fully register, a sudden, disembodied voice echoed in Tenshin's mind:

[Ding! It has been detected that the host has awakened his Martial Soul. Do you wish to link?]

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. The unexpected message shattered the internal silence and drew his attention wholly inward. That sound—the long-awaited message—brought a slow, controlled smile to his lips. "It finally appeared, huh? Three years late! I almost had to open a support ticket," he murmured under his breath, the irony not lost on him.

As the tension ebbed from his shoulders, it was replaced by a surge of excitement. Three long years of waiting—filled with uncertainty and quiet despair—had nearly extinguished his hope for any miraculous intervention. Yet now, with this unexpected twist, he felt a surge of energy: he was finally ready.

While the ceremony continued for the other children, Tenshin drifted toward the window of the communal house. Golden sunlight streamed through the window, casting warm patterns across the floor. As he gazed out, the gentle wind caressed his face, carrying away the remnants of doubt. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze wash over him. When he reopened them, his gaze burned with renewed determination.

It was time—to forge his own path and rise to greatness. Tenshin Satoru's story was just beginning—a story of power, destiny, and the unyielding choice to carve his own fate in a world where strength reigned supreme.

In that quiet moment, with the Celestial Book still in his hand and his heart brimming with a potent mix of anticipation and resolve, he vowed silently: No matter what challenges lay ahead, he would carve his own path.