It was still before dawn.
Under the blazing torches, the city's food market had already begun to stir with noise and activity.
Vendors moved back and forth, preparing the ingredients and goods they would sell during the day.
But suddenly, a loud shout shattered the early morning quiet.
"You little crippled thief! You stole meat from my shop!"
A deep, booming voice came from the front of a butcher's stall.
In front of the table, a scrawny little cripple was clutching a piece of meat and running for his life.
Bits of filthy cotton fell from the tip of his tattered bundle. His cheap wooden prosthetic leg rose and fell rapidly, tapping against the stone pavement with a crisp "ta-ta-ta" sound.
Though he appeared to be missing the lower half of his left leg and used a wooden leg as a substitute, he wasn't slow at all.
The chubby butcher panted heavily but couldn't catch up.
The distance between them grew wider and wider.
In the end, the butcher collapsed on the ground, gasping for breath, and shouted in vain, "Damn crippled brat! Stop right there, damn it!"
"I won't!"
Seeing that the butcher couldn't catch him, the little cripple stopped, turned around, made a silly face, and waved his hand. "Don't be mad, just think of it as an investment in me."
"Investment, my ass!"
The fat butcher spat on the ground, struggling to stand. His huge belly jiggled.
"I let it slide the first time. I'm kind-hearted, didn't want to pursue it. But you came again, you damn brat!"
"You think I don't have a temper?"
The little cripple waved from a distance, trying to calm him down. "Take it easy, take it easy. Anger isn't good for your health."
Once the butcher's temper had eased slightly, the boy added, "Once I awaken my martial soul tomorrow and gain soul power, I'll become a Soul Master and pay you back."
His dirty little face wore a look of utter confidence.
Nearby vendors burst into mocking laughter.
"You little beggar, dreaming in broad daylight. Think you can become a Soul Master?"
"A Soul Master? You look like a sack of bones. Pfft."
"Foolish little cripple."
The boy ignored their ridicule and flashed another grin at the butcher, as if to thank him, then darted away.
The butcher brushed the dust off his clothes, looked at the small, disappearing figure, and muttered, "You'd better hope you actually awaken soul power."
In a long-abandoned courtyard on the edge of the city.
The little cripple stared into a pot of boiling meat chunks and rotten vegetables. He added some salt and, by the flickering orange firelight, fell into thought.
His name was Fang Ling. He came from Earth.
A year ago, he crossed into the Douluo Continent, becoming a scrawny, filthy beggar missing his lower left leg.
This beggar had no name. People just called him "the little cripple," so he gave himself his old name, Fang Ling.
He was currently in the Fasno Province of the Heaven Dou Empire, in a city called Nuoding.
This was where Tang San once studied at Nuoding Academy.
Although it wasn't a large city, it sat on the border and served as a hub for trade between two nations.
It was prosperous and wealthy.
But prosperity belonged to others.
It had nothing to do with a crippled beggar who started with nothing but a bowl.
As a young, crippled beggar, Fang Ling was truly poor.
Not a single coin to his name.
His entire belongings consisted of a patch-covered coarse outfit, a rusty iron pot he found, a dented iron bowl, a sharp broken knife, a pair of self-made straw sandals, and not much else.
From a modern man who never had to worry about food or health, he suddenly became someone who survived with a handmade prosthetic, begging and scavenging just to live. The difference was beyond words.
If it weren't for the illusory progress bar visible in his vision, something like a mysterious cheat, and the lure of martial souls and cultivation, he wouldn't have made it through the year.
Yes, Fang Ling had a cheat.
An illusory progress bar only he could see, floating in his vision.
It was a thick gray line that had been slowly, steadily advancing for a year, now nearly touching the edge.
Its origin and purpose were unknown. He tried everything, sunbathing, eating more, meditating, but nothing sped it up.
Through mental communication with it, Fang Ling learned that the progress bar would reach 100% in two days.
And once it did, something would change.
The cheat's awakening happened to coincide with his martial soul awakening.
As a malnourished, frail beggar with no backing, he was likely to awaken a useless martial soul.
As for soul power, if he could even reach half a level like Yu Xiaogang, that would be a miracle.
Without enough meat, his body couldn't handle training, and trying to force it would only ruin him further.
To keep meat in his diet and stay alive, aside from catching rats and bugs, he had to steal.
No one would pity a little beggar like him.
He remembered the butcher was new in town and had a relatively kind personality, so he dared to steal from him.
Still, he was proud. He kept a mental note of every favor, and one day, when he made it, he'd repay them.
Aside from that, Fang Ling's only other hope was that he really did have some dramatic backstory.
If that backstory gave him a powerful martial soul, so strong that even with poor food and a skinny body, he could still awaken decent soul power and become a Soul Master, that would be ideal.
If not, then he could only pray for his cheat to deliver some results, or hope that crossing into this world came with a hidden bonus.
Two days later, Fang Ling woke up early.
He first checked the traps he had set in the courtyard, none were triggered.
Relieved, he began to wash up.
He splashed his face, brushed his teeth with a willow twig, changed into his washed and dried clothes, and chewed on some leftover buns he'd scavenged.
Then he sat upright, quietly waiting for the moment of destiny.
The progress bar in his vision was still inching forward, like a blade slowly slicing through resistance. After circling through 99.999% endlessly, it was finally coming to an end.
That seemingly motionless gray bar, like a hibernating beast, began to stir.
With countless unseen moments passing by, the bar advanced minutely over the year, finally reaching the final stage.
A rare glimmer of light appeared like the first rays of dawn, shattering the silence around him.
Everything in his vision seemed to come alive with color and energy.
Bathed in this mysterious glow, Fang Ling felt like he had ascended, his soul reaching a peak.
"Smack!"
A sudden itch made him slap a mosquito on his face, snapping him out of the fantasy. His facial muscles twitched slightly.
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