Chapter 1: Reincarnation, Resolution and Respite

Douluo Dalu: Seraph Of Hope And Light

"Instead of fighting the darkness, you bring in the light." - Eckhart Tolle

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Chapter 1: Reincarnation, Resolution and Respite

(Narrator's POV)

It had been 4 years since the Holy Son had been born. He was a quiet child, albeit a bit reclusive. Regardless, everybody could agree that the Holy Son was different. He was mature, intelligent beyond his years and had a habit of performing menial tasks which were to be done by servants. His eyes were a bright gold, pulsating like a warm light and yet, they held an unknown depth to them.

He was a skilled musician. Despite him being talented in the literary arts, what the maids often gossiped about was his singing. The Holy Son frequently sang songs, from songs as refreshing as the chirping of birds in the morning, to soothing lullabies meant to leave you with a good sleep and great dreams. There was quite an audience during the rare few times he had sung in the Douluo Palace.

The 'Golden Castle' of the Spirit Hall was known as the Douluo Palace, it was what people saw when they entered it's hallowed gates. Further in, the Supreme Pontiff Palace was a large palace-like hall, however, the Holy Son lived in neither of these places. As a member of the Qian Angel Clan, they lived in the innermost Spirit Temple.

It was considered the most sacred of grounds in the entire area of the Spirit Hall, and few were allowed to step foot here. The Holy Son stood in a nearby garden, drenched in sweat. His shouts, as he practiced some esoteric movements, echoed in the empty hall some ways away from him. In the middle of the hall stood a tall statue, made from exquisite rock, in the shape of an Angel, to be precise, a Seraph.

The empty hall was decorated in blue and white, seemingly dull colors when one saw the rest of the palace, a majestic gold and a pristine white. Yet, there was a certain holiness to it. It felt distinct, as though it was something out of this world. The warm afternoon light illuminated the crown of the statue as Qian Daoliu stood there, finishing offering his prayers for the day. It almost made the statue seem alive.

Qian Daoliu stood up, moving with a certain grace, as he lifted his eyelids, his black eyes swiveling to the direction in which the Holy Son was completing his 'Time Table' for the day. It was a word the Holy Son had explained the meaning of. A precise, strict and rigid schedule which he followed everyday, without fail.

Qian Daoliu walked with calm and measured steps to the garden, stopping once he came in view of his son, Qian Xunji.

"Let's walk by the lake today."

Qian Xunji didn't reply, busy with his 'exercise,' instead, he nodded his head between his heavy breaths- a result of his extensive exercise- and walked over to Qian Daoliu as he finished up.

"Let us speak of these exercises of yours today. I find myself quite curious about them."

The Holy Son again nodded his head, as he finished wiping himself up. It wasn't something he was supposed to do. It was a menial task that was beneath his status, and it was also the reason why he preferred it at the Spirit Temple, away from the constant care his numerous attendants provided him. He was uncomfortable with it, it went against the self-discipline he had maintained as a hostel student.

It kept a certain responsibility on his head, he felt. It was also one small thing that helped in keeping him grounded, he wasn't worried about it much, but he had read quite a lot of fanfics in which the MC's eventually lost sense of who they were, their values, their principles and their past. Power could corrode the strongest of wills, and he was determined not to be one among those many.

He shifted a bit as he adjusted the robes he had put on after cleaning himself up. "The weather seems to be good today," he spoke, before he gave one last grunt as the robe fit him snugly after the last and hardest push he gave it.

"You said the same yesterday," spoke Qian Daoliu as he gave him one last glance, and seeing that he was ready, headed towards the lake.

"I did, didn't I?" Qian Xunji gave a small smile. It was one of the best things of this fantasy world in his opinion. The light fog and mist that surrounded the palace they lived in, the way the warm afternoon light illuminated several places as it penetrated through gaps in the fog and the slightly cold, yet refreshing breeze that blew about. He sucked in a breath and blew it out. He felt more upbeat already. It was a great day.

Others might have found mystical energy, power, money and beauties more appealing, but he didn't. Perhaps they were right to do so. After all, he was protected and had enough money too. However, he still felt that it was things such as this breeze, weather and a calm, positive and spiritually vitalizing day which made his life more worth living.

"We're here."

He was broken out of his thoughts as he stopped by a sparkling lake, covered by a denser fog than that which surrounded them. He looked to his right, towards his father in this life. Although only snippets of the man were shown when- and till- he had watched the show, he had known, or at least read about his patience, charisma and character. He had a strong moral compass, at least relative to others in this world anyway.

He didn't let his emotions come in between right and wrong. He knew his son had been killed by Bibi Dong, yet, he hadn't taken action against her since he knew, or at least had an inkling that the crime his son had committed against her was grave.

While he didn't know much about the man's moral compass, he respected the man for his charisma and patience. He certainly had those in spades. He had taken care of him, without a complaint, a word ill-spoken or without displaying any negative emotion towards the son that had been a big headache to the attendants during the first 2-3 years of his life, only to be exacerbated by the lack of knowledge he had on the language (he had learned pretty fast, he could speak the language fluently by 2).

It was the time when he had gone through the 5 stages of grief- denial of his new reality and the hand he had been dealt with, anger at whatever entity sent him here lasted for a few months (he wasn't one to blame others for his situations, he would make the most of them), bargaining had been brief (he was agnostic and he certainly didn't think that the entity who sent him here would listen to him), depression had lasted the longest and then, acceptance.

Acceptance didn't mean that he had forgotten his past and the pain he felt along with it. He had accepted the hand he had been dealt with was all. The pain would always be there, no matter what people told, and no matter how painful, he wouldn't allow himself to forget it, it was what shaped him to be who he was after all.

"So, how was your day?" Qian Daoliu sat down, crossing his legs on the soft grass and motioned for his son to follow the same.

"Pretty much the same. I've been improving each day. My projects are what are lagging behind," A pause, "I've not had much of a breakthrough with them." Qian Xunji sat down next to him, being mindful of not harming any insect that might be on the grass, however unlikely it may be.

Qian Daoliu hummed in reply, looking at the shore. Qian Xunji's mind again went to his projects, of his roadblocks-

"They are quite unique. Did you expect to finish them so quickly? Or at all?" Qian Daoliu hadn't said it, but he definitely implied that 'Did you expect to finish them so prematurely?'

Qian Xunji frowned. "It's not that I expect to finish them so quickly, but it would be helpful if I could. Perhaps, I need to take a step back. I might not have the knowledge needed to complete them, but for my ideas to fail me was as big an indication as I could get to put them on hold."

"I didn't need to advice you much to make you realize this, or perhaps, you had realized it already. The temperament you have is great. Make sure never to lose it," Qian Daoliu advised, and gave a rare smile. He didn't give much of those, perhaps he would in the future, but not now. He too, despite his calm exterior dealt with his own demons.

From what Qian Xunji guessed, it had something to do with Bo Saixi. Maybe it hadn't been long enough for him to forget the pain of rejection. Yet, he couldn't help him much. He didn't have much experience in intimate matters regarding the opposite sex. As an Indian, one who was also majorly brought up by his grandma, his ideas on relationships tended to be on the traditional side, and so, he had never desired to have any such relationship.

Qian Xunji nodded. He opened his mouth to speak-

"So, tell me about these exercises of yours." Qian Daoliu interrupted him.

Qian Xunji shook his head with a wry smile on his lips. He knew Qian Daoliu always liked to speak of the new things he brought up, like 'Time Table' and 'Exercise' and so on. He probably wanted to talk about it as soon as he could. Not that he could blame him. The man was well on his way to becoming a Limit Douluo (or he already was), he probably didn't have many things to peak his interest.

Qian Xunji organized his thoughts for a moment before he spoke, "It's a pre-defined set of activities to do, to improve consistently, steadily but definitely as you do them."

Qian Daoliu rested his hands on his knees as he thought about the words he had been told. While he could certainly see the appeal-

"You intend for these 'exercises' to be only limited to physical cultivation, do you not?"

Qian Xunji nodded. He had read up much after coming to this world. Cultivation was an esoteric art. Even with the knowledge he had from watching the show, there was much to be discovered. He knew that the author had also introduced several amazing things to the cultivation system of this world in the next versions. Not to mention, this was a time when the Grandmaster's theories had also not been made and published.

"Good. Cultivation is profound and exploration of it can lead to unpredictable things." Qian Daoliu nodded, satisfied.

So, they sat there for another half an hour, speaking, however, both of them were busy people, and had to leave.

"Oh, 'The Elder' was looking for you, he wanted something it seemed," spoke Qian Daoliu, an amused smile on his lips, before he left.

Qian Xunji stood frozen for a second, looking in the direction his father had left in, before letting out an helpless sigh as he went on his way.

-2 Days Later-

Qian Xunji stood, drenched in sweat as he swung his fists. He was fast. Would this have been Earth, he would have been classified as an extremely dangerous superhuman. Each swing of his fist, each movement of his legs, cut through the air and caused a whistle to sound as they brought a gust of wind with them. The arts at the Spirit Hall archive, while not the best, were certainly leagues better than other arts possibly found in this era.

Qian Xunji was strong, way stronger than any kid his age. He didn't have some miraculous cultivation art from the Spirit Hall archive to aid him. He also didn't bring with him some revolutionary idea to overturn the existing cultivation system. He had tried, creating the Sun Breathing from Demon Slayer, The Marine's Rokushiki from One Piece, and more, but he hadn't seemed to be able to create them as easily as he had seen some protagonists do. He wasn't sure of it was a matter of talent. However he knew-

'There are no secrets to success. It is the result of preparation, hard work, and learning from failure.'

So, he prepared. He worked. He learned. Through continuous repetition, learning and consistent hard work... he became strong. His 'Time Table' consisted of 7 hours of sleep (the requirements and growth of a body were very different in a cultivation world), 4 hours for hygiene, work and any break taken if need be and 4 hours of reading and exploring cultivation and, 9 hours of - 3 sets of 2 hours of training and 1 hour of cultivation.

He was a workaholic. He didn't need a 'training arc' so that he could power himself up in a limited time through 'grueling' training. He liked the feeling of improvement. He felt accomplished and rewarded, which was what made the hard work worth it, in his opinion. He was improving. Becoming stronger, steadily and definitively, and he liked it.

He was also strong. He was most likely stronger than Tang San at his age, or at least he thought so. While Tang San couldn't cultivate more due to the fact that he was limited by his Spirit Rank 10, he wasn't. The Seraphim- his Martial Spirit- was of the divine grade. It broke his barriers and he could cultivate up to Spirit Rank 20 and it's corresponding physical condition.

"Good! Good! You'll definitely surprise people when and if you show up, brat!"

Qian Xunji almost faltered in his next step, but he didn't bother reprimanding the unwelcome intruder. It was an old man, a bit hunched, with white hair and a long white beard that fell till his diaphragm. He was drunk, had a flask of wine in his hands that he kept swirling, and yet, somehow, his dress and robes remained clean and pristine.

Qian Xunji rolled his eyes. "I do show up. I'm the Holy Son, I have my duties. Also, it's necessary to maintain connections and have a good repertoire with the people here, after all, I am to become the Supreme Pontiff one day."

The Golden Crocodile Douluo nodded his head, amusing himself once more, by annoying the Holy Son. It was one of his favorite pastimes. Despite his lack of regard for stations, formality and possibly rude way of speaking to the Holy Son, he was one of the most loyal men Qian Xunji had ever seen. From what he knew from the books, he had even given up his cultivation at one point, only to burn away his life after that, to protect Qian Renxue.

"You sure have ambition! You do know it's not easy to end up as the Supreme Pontiff and a Titled Douluo, right?" Xiao Yuxuan, The Golden Crocodile Douluo had an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face.

Qian Xunji just gave a faint smile, his eyes sparkling with a joke known only to him.

"Tch. There you go, acting all mysterious again." Xiao Yuxuan rolled his eyes seeing him act like that.

Qian Xunji couldn't help it, he laughed. Xiao Yuxuan looked at him with mock anger, but soon joined him, laughing.

Qian Xunji hoped times such as these would last. Where they were without worries, at peace and laughing with each other. Even if they wouldn't, he would make sure of it. After all...

He was the Seraph of the Spirit Hall.

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[AN]

Tell me if you find any corrections to be made in the chapter, if you would like to. Thanks for reading.

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