Soul Land: Origin of Humanity

Night had fallen by the time I returned home from the council.

The day's momentous decisions and the roar of celebration still echoed in the streets, but here in the quiet warmth of our house, all the grandeur and noise faded away. For the first time in what felt like years, I allowed myself to simply exist—as son, brother, friend.

My mother greeted me with gentle eyes and the comforting scent of freshly steeped tea. My brothers, now grown and accomplished in their own right, thumped my back with laughter, urging me to eat, to rest, to tell stories. A few close friends arrived, drawn by the rumors and the need to share a rare, peaceful evening. We ate together in the lantern-lit dining room, voices mingling with the crickets outside. The tension in my heart slowly unwound.

Yet beneath it all, I felt the weight of truths unspoken—burdens and wonders I had carried alone since my journey to the dragon domain.

Tonight, I would rest. Tomorrow, I would share what must be shared.

At dawn, the city was still hushed, the first rays of sunlight painting the sky in gold and lavender. I stood at the window, watching as the city slowly came alive: bakers opening their stalls, children racing toward the academy, laborers heading to new construction sites. It was a world built on hope, on the sweat and dreams of countless hands.

Today, I owed them honesty. But first, my family.

I asked my mother to gather everyone important to us—my brothers, a handful of trusted childhood friends, and a few elders who had always stood by my side. We met in the main room, the air tense with anticipation. I could feel the collective expectation, the love and worry mingled together.

My mother poured tea, her hands steady despite the shadows beneath her eyes. My eldest brother, Ye Xuan, leaned forward, his gaze intent. Ye Rong and Ye Xiu—always so lively—were uncharacteristically silent. Friends who had shared my earliest struggles listened, their faces lit by hope and dread in equal measure.

I drew a deep breath and began. My voice was quiet but certain.

"There are things I have learned on my journey that you deserve to know. Things about this world… and about my own path."

I told them of the dragon domain, of the god officer who guarded the ancient halls, of the revelations that had turned my understanding upside down.

"This world has a name," I said softly. "It is called Douluo."

The name settled over the room like a benediction. My mother repeated it quietly, as if trying to fit the syllables into her heart. My brothers exchanged glances. It was a strange word—one heavy with fate and possibility.

I continued, telling them what I had learned about the tiers of cultivation, about the existence of a higher realm beyond even the 9th tier. "After the ninth tier, a new door opens—a path to godhood. Until now, no one from this world has ever crossed it. I may be the first."

A hush fell. For a moment, only the ticking of the old bronze clock filled the silence.

At first, there was awe—pure, breathless awe. My family and friends looked at me as if seeing me for the first time, glimpsing not just the person they loved, but something more: a thread of destiny running through our bloodline, through our home.

Ye Xuan broke the silence. "A god… our brother, our friend, the first in all the world…"

My mother pressed a trembling hand to her lips. "Will you have to leave us, Caiqian? To go to that other realm?"

Her words carried both pride and heartbreak. I nodded gently, unable to lie. "Yes, Mother. That is the law of the realms. But I swear to you—I will not leave until I know this world is safe, and those I love have everything they need. I will prepare successors, build what must be built, and leave behind more than just memory."

Tears glistened in her eyes, but she smiled through them, voice strong. "Then we will help you. We will make this home strong enough to last a thousand years."

Others echoed her promise, voices fierce with loyalty. The sadness lingered, but beneath it ran something unbreakable—a current of pride, hope, and purpose.

As our conversation deepened, we turned naturally to the question of cultivation. I asked about their progress—my brothers and friends, the gifted disciples of the city, the promising scholars and warriors. Yet, despite all their hard work and genius, not one had broken through to form a soul core or reach beyond the seventh tier.

Ye Rong shrugged, frustrated but accepting. "I can feel the limit—like a ceiling of glass I can't shatter. No matter how hard I try, I can go no further."

I closed my eyes, recalling the god officer's cryptic warning: that no one from Douluo had become a god before. Suddenly, understanding struck me like a bolt of lightning. "Perhaps it isn't you," I said, voice thick with wonder and dread. "Perhaps it is the world itself—there is only so much energy to give, and Douluo has spent its very core to raise a single being this high. Me."

A hush fell. For a moment, I saw my life stretched across the years—every triumph, every pain, every moment when the world itself seemed to shape fate around me. The title child of destiny was not mere poetry. It was truth.

For a long time, no one spoke. Then Ye Xiu, youngest and cleverest of my brothers, said what I could not. "The world chose you, Caiqian. All its hope, all its power—it's you."

The words landed like an oath.

My friends—some proud, some tearful—placed their hands over mine. "Then let us make your burden lighter. You carry our future, but you will never carry it alone."

I smiled, gratitude and resolve warring in my chest. "We have much work to do. I will train new teachers, build new systems, ensure our Everglow endures. I may leave for the divine realm one day, but this world—this family—will never be without hope."

Together, we sat in that circle as morning turned to afternoon, and the city bustled outside, oblivious to the storm of destiny gathering in our little house.

That night, long after my family had returned to their beds, I stood on the balcony, gazing at the stars.

So much rested on one soul—and yet, I felt lighter for having shared it. The world had chosen me, and I would not fail it. Tomorrow, and every day after, I would work to ensure that when I finally ascended, Douluo would shine on—bathed forever in the light of hope and the spirit of Everglow.