Feeling the gazes from those around him, Chen Ming's heart held a mix of excitent and helplessness.
Yes, he wasn't a native of the Douluo World but a transmigrator from a certain blue planet.
Before his transmigration, he had been an obscure novelist, barely making ends et with his royalties. His unique talent—or perhaps a peculiar trait—was an unusually sharp sixth sense.
Throughout his life, his sixth sense had saved him countless tis: avoiding collisions with large trucks, escaping gas explosions, dodging over a dozen instances of electrical leaks, and evading countless minor disasters like slipping or getting hit by falling flower pots. In his circles, he was nicknad the Survivor King.
But as fate would have it, no matter how many tis one cheats death, it only takes one mistake to lose.
One day, while cleaning his house on a whim, he crouched to vacuum a hard-to-reach corner under a bookshelf. Suddenly, the ground shook, and before he could react, the bookshelf toppled onto him.
The bookshelf was a two-ter-tall solid wood structure, packed with books and adorned with decorative chess pieces and figurines. Its weight was unimaginable.
And so, Chen Ming was reborn—into the Douluo Continent. Whether by fate or coincidence, he retained his na: Chen Ming.
At first, Chen Ming only knew he had arrived in a fantastical world. But as he learned to speak and read, he gradually realized he had transmigrated into the Douluo Continent—a world he once referred to as the low-tier fantasy backwater of his previous life. Yet this version of Douluo was slightly off; iconic elents like the Spirit Hall, Shrek Academy, and Clear Sky Sect were still around, but other familiar aspects were missing.
Truthfully, Chen Ming wasn't overly disappointed about transmigrating into this mysterious world of Douluo Continent.
After all, he had played Baldur's Gate 3 and Warhamr gas. Having jokingly signed contracts with those universes' devils and gods, he used to think if those contracts sohow worked, he wouldn't end up in Douluo. Instead, he might've been reincarnated in Baldur's Gate or thrown into the literal cesspit of the Warhamr world.
And let's not forget—his bookshelves had figurines from both Baldur's Gate and Warhamr as decorations.
In comparison, Douluo Continent wasn't that bad, was it?
At the age of two, his parents died in an accident while hunting soul beasts.
By the ti he was three—able to speak, read, and run around—ready to start learning about the world and planning his future, the news broke across the continent: Spirit Hall's Pope Qian Xunji had been ambushed and killed by Tang Hao of the Clear Sky Sect. It was then he realized that in this life, he was only three years older than the infamous Trash Tang.
Tang San's reputation as Trash wasn't for nothing. Though the Tang San of Douluo Dalu 1 wasn't as ruthless or despicable as his later versions in Douluo Dalu 2, he was far from a saint. His existence brought widespread turmoil to the Douluo Continent.
If Chen Ming didn't grow stronger before chaos descended, he knew he'd have no choice when the storm hit. Better to sharpen his blade now and make his own decisions later, rather than live a life of regret after being forced into a corner.
Whether he joined the Shrek Seven Devils or went against them, Chen Ming's priority was to ensure he had the strength to make his own choices.
With this in mind, he committed to a disciplined routine. He followed a segnted sleep schedule to maximize his training ti while still allowing his body to grow. He never turned down food—no matter how unpleasant—forcing himself to consu dicinal als, bitter herbal pastes, and even half-dead bugs. He trained his body every day, rain or shine, and before bed, he made his family share any intelligence they had about the continent.
This was how he prepared himself—step by step, day by day—for the turbulent future he knew was coming.
After learning about the innate flaws in his family's martial soul, Chen Ming went to great lengths to adapt. He even had his family build him a den in the Scorpion Cave, where he periodically lived among the scorpions. He ate, slept, and observed their lives, striving to mimic them as much as possible to achieve a state of so-called mimicry.
Over the years, his observations were so ticulous that he nearly invented an entire fighting style based on scorpions. Even the brainless scorpions in the cave had grown familiar with Chen Ming, this oversized two-legged relative of theirs.
Lacking any mystical inner cultivation techniques like Mysterious Heaven Skill, Chen Ming focused solely on pushing his body to its limits without causing permanent harm. This dedication forged his body into one that was taller, more muscular, and explosively powerful compared to others his age.
But despite his efforts, his innate soul power was still only at level five...
He had ntally prepared for this possibility, but deep down, he had hoped for innate full soul power or even twin martial souls.
As Chen Ming wrestled with his complex thoughts about the future, the slim man who had just been detoxifying others with his jade orb put it away and briskly walked over. Without hesitation, he reached out to touch the scorpion tail swaying unconsciously behind Chen Ming.
"Second Uncle, be careful!"
Although Chen Ming had just awakened his martial soul and wasn't fully sure of its quality, his familiarity with the family's Erald Scorpion and various poisons told him one thing—his venom wasn't ordinary. Seeing his uncle recklessly touch the scorpion tail on his back, Chen Ming panicked.
"Relax, kid. I'm a Soul Ancestor, not so weakling who'd just drop dead..."
The man, whom Chen Ming called Second Uncle, started laughing but abruptly turned pale green, his body swaying slightly.
As an experienced poison-type soul master, the man reacted quickly. Within a single breath, he unleashed his martial soul. Two yellow and two purple soul rings lit up around him.
With the release of his Erald Scorpion martial soul and the surge of soul power, the green hue on his face began to fade, though his complexion remained grim.
The mighty second-in-command of the Chen family, poisoned just by touching his nephew's martial soul—this was an embarrassing situation.
"Ahem... Xiao Ming, you're truly a genius," the man coughed awkwardly, forcing out a complint. The onlookers, though tempted to laugh, didn't dare.
In this city, the highest-ranking soul master was Spirit Hall's local bishop, Yan Jun, a 67th-level control-type Soul Emperor. Next ca the Chen family patriarch, a 54th-level control-type Soul King.
Poison might lose its effectiveness at the Title Douluo stage, but below Soul Sage, it was a deadly weapon capable of overcoming stronger opponents. Throughout the continent's history, there have been nurous cases of powerful soul masters falling to low-level poison-type soul masters due to carelessness.
Even Yan Jun, who was nearing the end of his life, wouldn't necessarily gain the upper hand in a confrontation with the Chen family patriarch, despite his higher level. After all, the venom of the Chen family's Erald Scorpion was infamous. Forget a scratch—even the slightest contact could cost a soul master of the sa level half their life.
Forget humans—even a ten-thousand-year-old soul beast could be reduced to a puddle of water from its venom.
This was why, despite the Chen family's dwindling numbers and looming extinction, they remained the city's nominal third but de facto first power. Even though the whole city wished to take a bite out of the Chen family, no one dared to make a move against them.
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