Shi Yan suddenly awoke, his head pounding as if filled with lead, unbearably heavy.
This was a dim stone cavern, roughly the size of a basketball court. The stone floor was piled with scattered bones, and a dozen fresh corpses in strange attire lay nearby. Their clothing still vibrant, they clearly hadn't been dead long.
Where is this? Still the Blue Hole in the Bahamas of the Caribbean?
Shi Yan was a fanatical extreme sports enthusiast, bordering on obsession. At twenty-seven, his mother had died young, and his father, after amassing a lifetime's wealth, succumbed to cancer in his prime. Shi Yan had inherited a fortune too vast to squander.
What others spent their lives chasing, he possessed effortlessly from the start. With youth and wealth but no purpose, this directionless existence left him perpetually melancholic.
At seventeen, he discovered extreme sports, finally feeling life had meaning. His immense wealth allowed him to indulge recklessly in pursuits beyond ordinary reach: free solo climbing, crocodile bungee jumping, BASE jumping, volcano boarding, cliff diving, car-bottom ice skating—these insane challenges became his greatest joys.
He craved the heart-stopping thrill of teetering between life and death!
For ten years, he chased every lethal extreme sport, seeking danger wherever it lurked. A decade of this honed his physique to perfection, while hundreds of near-death encounters forged nerves of steel. He mockingly called himself "Death's closest neighbor."
His final challenge had been exploring the Blue Holes of the Bahamas. Some plunged hundreds of meters deep, labyrinthine in complexity. The slightest disturbance stirred silt from the cavern floors, rendering even the brightest dive lights useless.
Every diver, no matter how skilled, must tether themselves to a guideline—their lifeline. Reaching its end meant turning back; venturing further was suicide, as no one could navigate the maze unaided. According to Bahamian maritime records, an average of twenty extreme divers perished yearly in these holes, most lost forever.
In this deadliest of global challenges, Shi Yan had discarded his lifeline, embarking on a suicidal dive... and ultimately vanished into the Blue Hole's mysteries.
Here, to lose your way meant death...
—
Slumped on icy stone, Shi Yan studied his surroundings by the eerie glow of cave walls. Fragmented memories—not his own—flooded his mind.
Memories of another Shi Yan.
This namesake, also seventeen, was an archaeology fanatic obsessed with ancient ruins. Guided by a tattered map, he'd led guards through six months of hardship to reach this place.
Shi Yan frowned, rising unsteadily, his body frail and weak.
Then it struck him: This isn't my body. This vessel belonged to the younger Shi Yan—the ruin-chaser.
He froze in shock.
I died in the Blue Hole... No, I'm alive—just in an impossible way!
—
From the fragmented memories, he learned this world was called the Divine Grace Continent. No technology existed here—only endless war and martial dominance!
Here, many were born with mystical gifts: lightning coursing through veins, plant manipulation, earth phasing, psychic bonds with beasts, frost energy... These talents, called "Martial Souls," were almost always innate. Rarely acquired through chance encounters, they were considered divine blessings—hence the continent's name.
Not all warriors possessed Martial Souls. Most trained conventionally, but those with Souls accelerated their cultivation, gained unique abilities, and dominated peers of equal rank. These chosen ones held overwhelming advantages.
Martial Souls could be inherited. If one parent had a Soul, their child likely would too. Two Soul-bearing parents greatly increased the odds—though children typically inherited only one. Exceptions were vanishingly rare: either inheriting neither (one in a hundred) or both parents' Souls—a "Twin Soul" wielder, dubbed "Heaven's Favored." Such cases occurred perhaps once per ten thousand couples.
Shi Yan stood motionless, processing more memories...
This body's original owner came from the Shi Clan of the Merchant Coalition, inheritors of the "Petrification" Martial Soul—granting stone-hardened flesh resistant to energy attacks. Unfortunately, he'd failed to inherit it, deemed unfit for martial arts. Disinterested in cultivation, he'd devoted himself to archaeology.
It was that tattered map that led him here through countless dangers. Without its guidance, he'd never have found this hidden cavern beneath layers of foliage.
—
"Ooooo... Hssssss..."
Ghostly wails suddenly echoed through the cave. Shi Yan stiffened, gaze snapping toward the blood pool at the chamber's heart.
The ten-square-meter pool churned with crimson liquid, bubbles bursting with cadaverous shrieks. He knew the nearby guards had recently gone mad from these screams, slaughtering each other. The original Shi Yan had collapsed from their influence.
All because of this pool.
Shi Yan glared at the bloody basin, the wails gnawing at his mind, stirring murderous urges to kill everyone around him. His head throbbed, the screams making coherent thought impossible.
This pool holds secrets.
Gritting his teeth, Shi Yan drew on years of life-death conditioning. Though agony ripped through his skull, he advanced step by step toward the pool.
Crack! Crack!
Bones shattered underfoot. The cavern's skeletal carpet suggested countless prior victims. Was this blood pool the murder source? Was he courting death by approaching?
Nearer the pool, the shrieks intensified—daggers stabbing his brain. The murderous aura threatened to overwhelm reason. Only his steel-forged nerves from countless death brushes kept him sane.
By the pool's edge lay more bones, some floating whitely in its center. This small basin resembled a demonic sea, countless lives claimed.
Shi Yan suddenly realized his soul's transmigration likely connected to this pool. Perhaps it could return him to the Blue Hole...
Approaching closer, he noticed something odd: despite its blood-like viscosity, the liquid emitted no metallic scent. Instead, the air smelled strangely fresh... with a sweet fragrance emanating from the pool itself!
Intrigued, Shi Yan pressed on.
Three steps later, visions engulfed him—an ocean of blood with bone islands, some colossal as dinosaur fossils. A voice thundered through the crimson tide:
"KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!"
Shi Yan clung to his sanity, heart racing. The suffocating pressure carried death's familiar stench—closer than ever before.
One more step meant possible annihilation.
Yet after years courting death, fear had vanished. He reveled in this moment—confronting mortality, cheating demise. This was extreme sports' true essence!
Step. Step. Step.
Under the blood pool's crushing aura, Shi Yan reached its edge. Staring into the crimson depths, his inner madness erupted.
"Let's see what tricks you've got, you little hell-pit!"
With a cold laugh, he leaped into the pool.