The morning sun was absolutely doing the most, throwing these dramatic, cinema-quality shadows across the courtyard of Spirit Hall's main branch in Wuhun City. Today was officially The Day—my sixth birthday, which in this world translates to Martial Spirit Awakening Day. You know, that life-defining moment when you find out if you're going to be a main character or background NPC for the rest of your existence.
No pressure at all.
I'm posted up in this line with like twenty other kids, and the nervous energy is honestly palpable. Some kids are bouncing on their toes like they're about to meet their favorite celebrity. Others look like they're about to throw up their breakfast. Me? I'm just trying to keep my existential dread on the down-low while I process the absolute chaos that is my life situation.
My name's Chen Ming—at least, that's what everyone calls me in this reality. In my previous life, I had a completely different identity, different body, different everything. A world with WiFi, DoorDash, Netflix, and the blessed comfort of air conditioning. You know, all the modern conveniences that you don't appreciate until you're living in what's basically medieval times with magic powers.
It's honestly still trippy that it's been six whole years since I woke up here as a literal newborn baby. Six years since I had my "oh wait, I'm in an isekai situation" realization and discovered I'd been dropped into a fantasy world that's basically a mix of cultivation novels and battle shounen anime. We've got spirit beasts roaming around, people with supernatural martial souls, and—oh yeah—literal murder cults that think human sacrifice is a reasonable hobby.
Living the dream, truly.
Back on Earth, I was peak ordinary. Mid-tier office job, small apartment, social life that existed mostly through gaming discord servers. Nothing particularly exciting or tragic—just your standard "getting by" existence. But apparently the universe decided I needed a complete life overhaul, because now I'm a reincarnated orphan in a world where your entire future depends on what kind of supernatural power you randomly unlock at age six.
My parents in this life—Chen Hao and Li Mei—were actually pretty solid people. They worked as mid-level Spirit Hall agents, which sounds way more glamorous than it actually was. Think more "supernatural civil servants" than "elite secret agents." They weren't nobility or anything fancy, just decent, hardworking people who genuinely cared about me and tried their best to give me a normal childhood despite the whole "living in a world with magic murder beasts" situation.
They were supposed to be here today. Had been planning it for months, talking about how proud they'd be no matter what kind of martial spirit I awakened. Mom had even taken time off work, which was rare for her.
But life said "absolutely not" to that plan.
Three months ago, they got assigned what was supposed to be a routine mission—just a standard check on some spirit beast activity near this random farming village. Should have been a simple survey job, maybe some paperwork, definitely not anything dangerous. Except it turns out the "spirit beast activity" was actually a cover for some absolutely unhinged soul-harvesting evil soul masters who thought my parents looked like a nice snack.
The mission report was pretty clinical about it, but reading between the lines, they were ambushed and overwhelmed. Never stood a chance. The rescue team found their bodies three days later, along with evidence of the cultists' "rituals." I'll spare you the details, but let's just say these people had some seriously messed up ideas about what constitutes a fun weekend activity.
So here I am now—another Spirit Hall orphan with a tragic backstory and unknown potential. Just living the cliché life, you know?
The grief hits different when you're mentally an adult but physically a six-year-old. Like, I understand death and loss in ways that other kids my age can't even comprehend, but I also don't have the emotional tools or social support systems to process it properly. It's been this weird liminal space of mourning people who were genuinely good parents while also trying to figure out how to survive in a world that's way more dangerous than they ever let on.
"Chen Ming," called Deacon Liu, snapping me out of my tragic backstory contemplation. She's this no-nonsense woman who manages our little group of orphaned potentials, and her voice has this quality that could probably cut glass. Everything about her screams "efficient government employee who has seen too much paperwork and not enough coffee."
"You're next."
Well, this is it. Time to find out if I'm going to be overpowered or absolutely screwed.
I walked up to the awakening platform, where six black stones were arranged in a perfect hexagon, each one glowing with this subtle energy that screamed "ancient magical artifact that definitely costs more than your entire bloodline." In the center stood Bishop Wei, this older gentleman who radiated that classic wise mentor energy. Friendly face, grandfatherly vibes, but also the kind of person who could probably erase you from existence if you looked at him wrong.
"Don't be nervous, child," he said, his voice carrying this reassuring confidence that probably came from doing this ceremony literally thousands of times. "Simply place your hand on the central stone and try to feel for the power that lies dormant within you."
Right, because "don't be nervous" is totally helpful advice when your entire future is about to be determined by touching a glowing rock. Thanks for that wisdom, Bishop.
But honestly, what choice did I have? I took a deep breath—partly to calm my nerves, partly because the air around the awakening stones had this weird metallic taste that made me think of electricity before a thunderstorm—and stepped forward to press my palm flat against the center stone.
It was way warmer than I expected, almost body temperature, with this subtle vibration that felt like it was resonating with my heartbeat.
And then everything went absolutely insane.
Something deep inside my chest shifted, like a door I didn't even know existed suddenly swung wide open and released this flood of energy that had been building up for years. The stones around me lit up like we were at some kind of rave, pulsing with this intense golden light that made everyone behind me gasp audibly.
But I was completely locked in to what was happening inside me.
Raw soul power was rushing through my veins like liquid lightning, and I could feel every meridian in my body lighting up like some kind of supernatural circuit board. The sensation was incredible—like every cell in my body was suddenly operating at maximum capacity. But there was something else happening too, something that made Bishop Wei's eyebrows shoot up and caused the awakening stones to pulse with increasing intensity.
"Extraordinary," he whispered, and coming from someone who'd probably seen hundreds of these ceremonies, that felt significant. "Child, focus inward and call forth your martial spirit."
Okay, no big deal. Just manifest whatever supernatural power the universe decided to give me. Totally normal Tuesday activity.
I closed my eyes and reached deep into myself, following that new sensation of power toward whatever was waiting at its source. In the darkness behind my eyelids, I could sense something fundamental shifting, like reality was rearranging itself around me.
Come forth, I thought, focusing all my attention inward rather than trying to manifest something in my hands like most martial spirits do.
The world seemed to hold its breath for a moment that stretched into eternity. That's what it felt like to me.
Then, instead of some weapon or creature appearing in my palm, I felt this profound transformation happening inside my own head. This warm, tingling sensation spread through my brain like carbonation, and suddenly my perception of everything around me became incredibly sharp and detailed. It was like someone had upgraded my mental processing power from dial-up to fiber optic.
My eyes began glowing with this soft silver light—I could see the reflection in Bishop Wei's surprised expression—and I could feel this strange new energy pulsing through my skull. It was like my brain itself had been fundamentally altered, enhanced, turned into something more than just human gray matter.
"A Body Martial Soul," Bishop Wei observed, his experienced gaze studying the changes in me with scholarly fascination. "And not just any body spirit—this appears to be a Brain-type martial soul." He stepped closer, examining me with the kind of intense curiosity that probably made him really good at his job. "Fascinating. Body martial souls are quite uncommon, and one that specifically affects cognitive functions... I'll need to research this extensively in our archives."
And that's when it hit me.
My memory. Every single detail from the moment I touched that stone was now locked into my brain with perfect clarity. The exact pattern of shadows on the ground. The specific tone of Bishop Wei's voice when he said "extraordinary." The way the light reflected off Deacon Liu's eyes when she stopped scowling for exactly 2.3 seconds. The subtle variations in the stone's warmth under my palm.
Perfect recall. Complete, flawless, permanent memory retention.
Holy crap, that's actually broken as hell.
But it was more than just remembering the awakening ceremony. Somehow, I could sense that this perfect recall would extend to literally everything going forward. Every conversation, every lesson, every observation, every experience—all of it would be permanently archived in my mental database with zero degradation or loss of detail.
In my previous life, I'd read about people with eidetic memory or hyperthymesia—those rare individuals who could remember absolutely everything with perfect accuracy. But to actually gain that ability myself, and through supernatural means? It was simultaneously thrilling and completely overwhelming.
This wasn't just a cool party trick. This was legitimately game-changing. In a world where knowledge was power, where cultivation techniques had to be memorized perfectly, where political alliances and betrayals could hinge on remembering exactly what someone said months ago—perfect recall was basically a cheat code for life.
I could build an entire empire out of this ability.
Bishop Wei handed me a crystal ball, interrupting my mental celebration. "Now let's measure your innate soul power level."
The moment the crystal touched my palm, it blazed to life like someone had shoved a miniature sun inside it. The light was so bright that several kids in the back row actually had to shield their eyes.
"Level 7 innate soul power," Bishop Wei announced, his voice carrying clearly across the suddenly silent courtyard.
I felt every single kid behind me whip their heads around to stare at me like I'd just announced I was secretly royalty. Level 7 wasn't quite "chosen one" territory, but it was definitely in the top few percentiles of natural talent. Most people awakened with level 1 or 2. Getting level 7 meant I had serious potential for cultivation advancement.
A few kids looked genuinely impressed, nodding with that "respect" expression. A couple others just looked salty as hell, probably because they'd awakened with lower numbers and were now feeling inadequate. One girl in particular was giving me the kind of stink-eye that suggested she was already planning to make my life difficult out of pure jealousy.
Social dynamics, gotta love them.
I stepped back from the platform as the silver glow faded from my eyes and my martial spirit settled into the background of my consciousness. So here's my current situation: I'm a reincarnated orphan with a brain-based martial soul that gives me perfect memory, level 7 innate soul power, and apparently enough potential to make a Bishop take personal interest in my development.
No pressure whatsoever.
But for the first time since my parents died—for the first time in months, really—I felt something that might actually be hope creeping back into my chest. I wasn't here to be the chosen one or the tragic hero. I wasn't planning to go full shounen protagonist and start screaming about friendship and justice and revenge. That kind of attention was honestly the last thing I wanted.
I just wanted to live well. Stay smart, stay careful, stay alive. Maybe use this incredible gift I'd been given to build something meaningful, something lasting, something that could make a real difference in this messed-up world.
And maybe—just maybe—create something so impressive that even my parents would have been proud.
The ceremony continued with the other kids, but I was already mentally planning my next moves. Perfect memory meant I could absorb information faster than anyone else. High soul power meant I had the raw potential to back up that intellectual advantage with actual strength. And being a Spirit Hall orphan meant I had access to resources and training that most people could only dream of.
This was just the beginning. Chen Ming the ordinary office worker was dead and buried on another world. Chen Ming the soul master?
Now that was a story worth writing.