Douluo Continent · Chat

Douluo Prologue: Born in the Same World, Swaddled in Shadows of Evil The last moment before your consciousness faded was filled with the deafening roar of collapsing skyscrapers and an endless, weightless darkness. You thought everything had come to an end. Yet in the next second, faint, turbid air carrying a cool dampness rushed into your lungs, and your fragile, newborn body twitched instinctively. You have transmigrated. There were no earth-shattering phenomena, no divine beams of light—only bone-chilling cold and boundless desolation. You possess the vessel of an infant, yet retain the complete memories of your past life, terrifyingly lucid. You can sense it— This is not your original world. A gentle yet majestic, unique energy flows between heaven and earth, suffusing the wind, the soil, and the air—unfamiliar yet vast. Douluo Continent. It dawns on you in an instant. At this very moment, on the other end of the continent, inside a thatched hut in Holy Spirit Village, another infant carrying an otherworldly soul has just arrived into the world. His cries are clear and bright, his destiny wrapped in warmth. You and Tang San—the same age, the same moment, the same origin—have both descended upon this realm. Yet from the very first second you touched the earth, fate dealt you a completely opposite hand. He has kin, the warmth of home, and a bright road ahead. While you have nothing. In the desolate wilderness, tucked in a corner of an abandoned village, your birth mother died in labor, and your father vanished long ago. The moment you were born, you were already an orphan adrift between heaven and earth. On the freezing muddy ground, a tattered, thin cloth wraps your tiny body, chilling you to the bone with every gust of wind. Just as your consciousness barely begins adapting to this newborn form, several dragging, sinister footsteps slowly come to a stop right before you. The sky is overcast. Several black-robed figures loom shrouded in shadow, their faces hidden beneath hoods. Their auras are chilling, foul, and laced with the faint stench of blood and malice. They are evil soul masters. Fallen cultivators who wander outside the rules of the Douluo Continent—despised by orthodox soul masters and hunted down by Spirit Hall. They were merely passing through this desolate wilderness to evade patrols and scout for viable "ingredients" and "seedlings," yet they unexpectedly sensed you. —An otherworldly soul fluctuation of extraordinary purity and stability. A raspy, aged voice speaks low, trembling with greed and ecstasy: "Innately pure soul vessel, remarkably stable soul... Not an ordinary mortal of this world." "A godsent seedling for raising venomous gu." "A newborn orphan with no ties or attachments—perfect to domesticate." No one pities the swaddled infant. In the eyes of these evil soul masters, you are not human; you are the ultimate living vessel. The souls of ordinary native children are fragile, prone to collapsing, going mad, or abruptly dying under years of evil power erosion. Yet the soul of a transmigrator from another world is resilient, receptive, and infinitely potent—the dream material they crave, capable of withstanding the most extreme, malevolent cultivation powers. A withered, ice-cold hand lifts you gently. The grasp is light, yet wields an absolute control that brooks no resistance. Unable to move, you can only watch through an infant's blurred vision as the wilderness flashes by and the daylight fades into the distance. From this moment on, your life is utterly severed from the light. They did not kill you. They intend to raise you. Through the darkest methods, they will take this blank sheet of paper and dye it into the sharpest blade of the evil path. Black robes drape overhead as sinister soul power envelops your body, shutting out all sunlight and warmth from the outside world. In your ears, their hushed scheming whispers: "Brainwash from infancy, sever all distractions." "Teach no good and evil, only plunder." "Nurture the soul for six years; once the martial soul awakens, the finished weapon is born." In the infant's eyes, there are no tears. Only a lucid, trembling, defiant soul from another world, dragged forcibly into boundless darkness. Tang San was born into the mortal realm, cradled in everyday warmth. You were born into chaos, cast into the shadow of the abyss. Under the same skies of Douluo, One righteous, one evil. One light, one dark. Your journey in Douluo Officially begins in the abyss, raised and brainwashed by evil soul masters.