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.

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When Tenshin touched the Celestial Book, a weight immeasurable pressed upon him. In the moment his fingers brushed against the cover, the faded runes suddenly ignited. In that instant, an avalanche of memories surged into his mind.

He was bombarded with fragmented flashes of memories. Vivid images of infancy—being cradled tenderly in his mother's arms—merged with recollections of solitary afternoons spent immersed in anime and light novels. 'Those days, things were so simple,' he recalled bitterly, until that abrupt, untimely death tore him away from everything without a farewell. These recollections, however, did not end with his past life; they interwoven with the experiences of his current life in Douluo Dalu.

Now, at the age of six, after three years of thinking he would live a reality without extraordinary abilities—just surviving in a world where force was everything—he felt the weight of it all. 'I know this world's rules, history, and future,' he thought. 'Yet without power, in the best case, this knowledge is useless. In the worst... it's better not to think about it.' The torrent of memories threatened to shatter his mind. His body trembled, beads of sweat trickling down his brow as he bit his lip to stifle a scream. It felt as though the weight of his entire existence bore down on him, crushing him under its relentless pressure.

Slowly, like a river calming after a fierce storm, the overwhelming pain began to subside into strange clarity. His lungs expanded as he drew in crisp, fresh air, and his scattered thoughts gradually aligned like pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle. Gaps in his memory returned, as though they had occurred only yesterday. With each passing moment, his sense of self grew more defined, as a new version of himself began to form—though, in that moment, he did not yet perceive it.

Drawing his hand away from the Celestial Book, Tenshin inhaled deeply in an effort to steady himself. Though the pain had not disappeared entirely, it was now much weaker. In its place, a conviction blossomed—something within him had irrevocably transformed.

The activation of the Celestial Library, triggered by his Martial Soul, had wrought a profound reordering of his thoughts. He sensed his fragmented memories coalescing into a clear, coherent stream.

Gradually, the chaos within his mind gave way to order. Memories that had once been scattered now fused into a continuous current of experiences—each one crisp, deliberate, and meaningful. In that moment, he felt complete, more aware of both himself and the intricate world around him.

When he opened his eyes once more, the Library itself had transformed. The books that had once been scattered across the floor were now neatly arranged on shelves. Those that had been damaged or burned were restored to their pristine state. The Library was a living reflection of his mind—his choices, his lessons, and his future journey.

As he wandered the aisles, his attention was drawn to a striking detail: the books shone in a spectrum of colors, each representing a unique facet of his memories and experiences. He reached out, his hand grazing the smooth covers, and with that contact, he felt the raw emotions and energies contained within each book.

In his mind's eye, a system of colors began to take shape, each hue representing a different facet of his experiences.

The first category, Traumas, was marked by three distinct shades. Light Gray signified experiences that, while significant, did not break him. Medium Gray represented memories that struck with emotional force. Black was reserved for the deepest, most searing traumas—those almost too intense to bear.

Moving on to Everyday Memories, the colors took on a gentler tone. Light Blue evoked the serene rhythms of daily routines, while Aqua Green captured moments of everyday beauty—vibrant yet calm.

In the realm of Theories and Abstract Knowledge, Pale Yellow illuminated simple, clear ideas, while Gold signified complex, multifaceted theories that challenged the mind.

When it came to Fictional Techniques and Narratives, Lavender symbolized creative structure and technical finesse in storytelling, while Deep Purple conveyed a profound connection to artistic and intellectual innovation.

Memories Tied to Fiction had their own distinct hues. Coral or Salmon reflected the vibrant energy of inspiring tales, whereas Burnt Orange resonated with the intensity of tragic or poignant narratives.

Finally, Formative Events were painted with colors of transformation and change. Bright Green marked experiences of significant growth, while Earthy Brown captured events that, although challenging, reshaped him. Deep Red was reserved for those moments that changed everything—bringing overwhelming emotional impact.

Then, his attention shifted back to his Martial Soul—which had appeared before him naturally when he thought about it. Since the Library was linked to it, the Celestial Book gained a special function that allowed them to work together.

From what he understood, he could take notes, write, and essentially document his insights, theories, and daily experiences within the Celestial Book—using only his mind. More than that, the Library itself would automatically synchronize with his recorded memories, creating links between his knowledge to aid in recall. As long as he wrote things down, he would no longer need to relive all his memories or manually organize them one by one every day.

Though fatigue tugged at him, determination shone in his eyes. However, he recognized that utilizing the Library's vast functions came at a price. Prolonged use could drain more than just mental energy—it could cause headaches at best. Whether he was revising records, simulating scenarios, analyzing techniques, or forging connections between disparate fragments of knowledge, even writing within his Martial Soul consumed both mental energy and a small amount of soul power.

Tenshin knew that the Library would become one of his most important tools—yes, a tool. He couldn't afford to become dependent on it. After all, strength could not be gained through study alone; he needed to cultivate and train. He refused to be like the Soul Masters of Douluo Dalu who relied solely on their Martial Souls, Soul Rings, and Soul Bones in battle.

With a heavy sigh, a subtle ache settled in his chest—a reminder that something vital still awaited him. Although the function he decided to call "Diary" provided a powerful means to record and control his thoughts, he had an intuition that this was not its full potential. For now, however, he would let things unfold naturally.

At that moment, curiosity tinged his voice as he murmured, "When I use the Diary, will my Martial Soul appear to others?" Almost immediately, a response came—not in words, but as an intuition: Other people wouldn't see it.

Tenshin's lips curved into a relieved smile.

He opened the Diary and felt a profound connection as he began to write, penning the following lines:

[My name is Tenshin. I transmigrated—or rather, was reborn—in the world of Douluo Dalu. When I was three years old, the memories of my previous life resurfaced.]

Unbeknownst to him, the mere act of writing triggered an extraordinary phenomenon. Across the vast expanse of the Douluo Continent, heroines began to see a Diary appear before them—each uniquely connected to its owner.

Seated gracefully within the Moon Pavilion, Tang Yuehua's composure wavered as the diary materialized before her, its cover bearing the words: "Exclusive to Tang Yuehua." Her delicate fingers hovered over its surface, her heartbeat quickening.

"A… diary?" she whispered, suspicion flickering across her serene features. Her first instinct was to question the absurdity—who could send such a thing to her, and how? Yet the elegance of its design, combined with the mystique of its appearance, was too captivating to dismiss.

Her refined intellect urged caution, but curiosity—rooted in her insatiable pursuit of knowledge—beckoned her to read on. "Tenshin… Who are you?" she murmured, her eyes narrowing with distrust. "And why do you know of our world?"

[I also received the Celestial Library—a metaphysical space filled with endless shelves. Some contain books that represent my memories and knowledge, while others remain empty, awaiting new information.]

In the quiet chamber within the Star Luo Empire, Zhu Zhuqing's gaze hardened as the diary manifested before her, the words "Exclusive to Zhu Zhuqing" shimmering ominously on its cover. Her body tensed, her instincts warning her of a potential trap.

Who would dare to approach her in this way? And why? She reached for the diary cautiously, her movements deliberate and calculated. When the opening line revealed the name "Tenshin" and his mention of "Douluo Dalu," her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Another schemer…?" she muttered under her breath, her guarded nature immediately raising walls around her emotions. Her life had taught her that trust was a luxury she could not afford, and this mysterious figure was no exception.

Yet… the intrigue gnawed at her. How could a stranger know their world's name in such a detached, almost foreign manner? And what was this "Celestial Library" he spoke of? The very notion sounded ludicrous, an invention meant to deceive.

But if this was a trap, then she needed to understand it fully before dismantling it. With a determined glint in her eyes, she resolved to read on—not out of trust, but as a means to outsmart whoever was behind this. Her survival depended on it.

The idea of a "Celestial Library" challenged her sense of reason. As someone who valued culture and wisdom, she found the concept fascinating but utterly implausible. A space containing all memories and knowledge? It sounded like the stuff of legends. Yet, she could not deny the subtle excitement it stirred within her.

"Perhaps… there is more to this than mere fantasy," she conceded, skepticism lacing her voice. But she vowed to remain vigilant—nothing this extraordinary could come without consequence.

[The books contain memories of my past and present—fragments of daily life, theories, insights into abilities, and even elements of fiction.]

In the luxurious halls of the Seven Treasures Glazed Tile Sect, Ning Rongrong's eyes widened in disbelief as the diary appeared before her, elegantly inscribed with the words: "Exclusive to Ning Rongrong." Her first instinct was to scoff.

"A prank?" she laughed, albeit uneasily. Yet, her fingers instinctively traced the exquisite cover, the craftsmanship too delicate to be a mere trick. Her curiosity piqued, but her arrogance urged her to dismiss it. "Who would dare play games with me?" she muttered, indignation sparking in her voice.

Flipping through the pages, her skepticism grew. "Tenshin… Transmigration? Celestial Library?" she read aloud, her brows furrowing. "What kind of nonsense is this?" Yet the absurdity only fueled her curiosity. What if… there was a grain of truth hidden within these fantastical claims?

Her competitive spirit flared, and her lips curled into a smirk. "Alright, Tenshin. Let's see how clever you really are," she challenged, eyes gleaming with intrigue. If this was some elaborate riddle, she was determined to solve it.

But deep down, she couldn't shake a growing unease. Who was this person? And how did he know so much? Determined not to be outsmarted, she resolved to get to the bottom of this mystery—even if it meant playing along for a little while.

[Yet these fictional techniques and abilities may not function fully—or even at all—in this world. Each world has its own laws and rules, meaning these skills will need adaptation or may have to be completely rebuilt from scratch to align with reality.]

[Every second, memory books are updated, or entirely new volumes are created.]

[This process gives me a photographic memory, allowing me to recall details precisely—but without the emotional weight.]

[To relive these experiences with full emotion, one must retrieve the corresponding book and read or "re-experience" the memory.]

[I believe that in the future, more functions will emerge, but for now, having my memories from two lives properly organized is enough.]

As the heroines read on, the description of the "Celestial Library" left them astonished. A place where memories and knowledge were stored like books on shelves? Where one could recall events with perfect clarity, untouched by emotional weight?