Chapter 1: Birth and Abandonment

The first thing I felt was cold. Not the comforting chill of air-conditioning or a brisk winter morning, but an unrelenting, all-encompassing cold that seeped into my bones and clawed at my skin. I wanted to cry, to scream, but my throat emitted only a weak, rasping wail.

What…? I thought, my mind sluggish and clouded. The world around me was blurry, shapes and colors blending together like a watercolor painting left in the rain. My limbs flailed uncontrollably, far too weak to provide any comfort. It took me a moment to realize that my body didn't feel right. My arms and legs were tiny—too tiny. Panic began to set in.

What happened to me? Where am I?

A shadow loomed over me, and I squinted, struggling to make sense of what I saw. A woman—no, a goddess. Her beauty was ethereal, her face framed by cascading locks of violet hair. But her expression was cold, her eyes hard as steel. I'd never seen anyone like her in my old life. And yet, something about her felt familiar.

Words tumbled from her lips, foreign and melodic, incomprehensible to my ears. At first, I struggled to make sense of the sounds, my mind trying to connect the dots. It wasn't English, or Spanish, or any other language I recognized. But I had time. Over the weeks, I learned. The tones, the syllables—they began to make sense. My mind latched onto the words, dissecting them until they were no longer foreign.

By the time six months had passed, I understood most of the conversations I overheard. And the things I heard… they chilled me more than the cold ever had.

The woman—this goddess—looked down at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of disdain and… regret? Something about the way she hesitated as she picked me up spoke of reluctance, a struggle within herself. I wanted to ask, Why? Why do you look at me like that? But my lips could only babble nonsense.

It clicked.

The fragments of memories from my previous life rushed forward like a breaking dam. I remembered my mundane existence, the long hours at work, the endless cycle of waking and sleeping… and the accident. The sound of screeching tires, the flash of headlights, and then… nothing.

I'm dead. I died…

And yet, here I was, trapped in the fragile body of a newborn. My mind reeled as realization struck me like a thunderbolt. This wasn't Earth. This wasn't my world.

I caught another snippet of the woman's speech, the words suddenly sparking recognition. Douluo Continent. It was a name I had encountered before, a world I had only read about. My heart sank as I pieced it together. The violet-haired goddess standing before me could only be Bibi Dong, the fearsome saintess of the Martial Hall, the future Supreme Pontiff of the Spirit Hall.

And that meant… she's my mother.

The weight of the revelation was suffocating. I stared at her, my tiny body trembling as I tried to reconcile the terrifyingly powerful figure of Bibi Dong with the woman standing before me. She wasn't holding me lovingly, wasn't cooing or smiling like a new mother. Instead, she looked at me like I was a burden, a mistake.

It was only later that I understood why.

One night, Bibi Dong had a visitor—her master, Qian Xunji, the Pope of Spirit Hall. I had seen him before, a towering figure draped in white and gold robes, his aura suffocating even to an infant. That night, as I lay in my crib, I heard their voices carrying through the thin walls. Curiosity pricked at me, and I strained to make out their words.

"Bibi Dong," his voice was calm but icy, each word cutting like a blade. "Your devotion to Spirit Hall is unmatched, but this… child jeopardizes everything. His existence is a stain on your title," the Pope retorted sharply. "The saintess of the Martial Hall, bearing a child out of wedlock with a disgraced scholar? Do you think the elders will overlook this? Do you think the world will?"

"I will deal with them," she replied, steel creeping into her tone. "The child is mine, and no one else has the right to decide his fate."

A bitter laugh escaped the Pope. "You are naive if you think sentiment has a place here. The Spirit Hall demands absolute loyalty, and that means making sacrifices. The child… or your future. You cannot have both."

The words hung in the air, suffocating, unyielding.

"This is not a choice," he continued. "It is an ultimatum. You have until tomorrow to decide. If you cannot let go of the boy, then you will relinquish your title and your place in Spirit Hall. Consider carefully, Bibi Dong. Your ambitions, or your sentimentality."

His footsteps echoed as he left, the sound of the door closing reverberating through the room. I could imagine Bibi Dong standing there, her hands clenched into fists, her face a mask of conflict. She didn't come to see me that night. Perhaps she couldn't bear to.

The next day, a man entered the room, his face sharp and scholarly, his gaze avoiding both me and Bibi Dong. I recognized him immediately. Yu Xiaogang. The Grandmaster. My father. A bitter laugh bubbled up in my mind, though it came out as nothing more than a garbled cry. The man who had been Bibi Dong's first love, the man who would go on to mentor Tang San, barely spared me a glance.

Words were exchanged between the two, heated and sharp. I understood most of it now. My infant ears picked up phrases like "drug," "in love," and "no choice." The tension in the room was palpable, and I could feel it even in my tiny, helpless state. Bibi Dong's hands trembled as she held me, her knuckles white. Apparently, my mother was asking Yu Xiaogang to run away with her and start a new life together as a family. However, it seemed that to conceive me, Bibi Dong had drugged the Grandmaster, and now I can only see hatred in his eyes. 

Moments later, Yu Xiaogang stormed out without looking back. The door slammed shut, leaving the woman and me alone in suffocating silence. She stared down at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Bibi Dong's lips pressed into a thin line as she wrapped me in a coarse blanket. She carried me outside, her movements stiff and mechanical. The cold night air bit at my skin, and I whimpered, squirming against her grip. After hours, her steps slowed as she reached the forest, the towering trees casting long, jagged shadows.

She hesitated, her breath hitching. For a brief moment, hope flickered in my heart. Perhaps she would change her mind, perhaps she would see me as more than a burden.

But then she placed me on the ground, the blanket the only barrier between me and the frozen earth. She lingered for a moment, her fingers brushing against my cheek. Her touch was warm, almost tender, but it vanished all too quickly.

"Why?" I wanted to ask, though my mouth could only form incoherent sounds. "Why bring me into this world if you didn't want me?"

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she turned and walked away, her figure swallowed by the darkness. I cried out, my tiny voice echoing in the still night, but she didn't look back.

And as I lay there, the cold seeping back into my body, one thought consumed me:

I will survive. I will grow stronger. And one day, I will make you regret this, Mother and Father.