Douluo: Martial Soul White Tiger, I am the White Emperor of Heaven

Night fell again. Qian Renxue lay on the hotel bed, not falling asleep immediately. She tried to feel her own existence, the heavy feeling brought about by that "time anchoring." In the God Realm, this feeling was very obvious; she was like an overly real object, particularly prominent in the relatively illusory environment. But in Douluo Continent, this feeling had become subtle.

This world is inherently very "real." The existence of mortals, the existence of matter, the passage of time—everything is more concrete and profound than the realm of gods. Here, her characteristic as an anchor point of time seems to blend into the background, becoming less conspicuous.

But when she focused, she could still feel something different. She could feel her connection to this world, not through divine power, but through time. Her past—not only as Qian Renxue, but also as the moments she spent protecting this world as the Angel God—had left its mark on the river of time. These marks were like anchors, fixing her in this very moment.

“I need a future.” She closed her eyes and let her consciousness stretch towards the future along the timeline.

It wasn't precognition—that was beyond her capabilities. Rather, it was perceiving branches of possibility. From her current position, the future was like a tree with countless branches. Some branches were clear, representing her possible choices: continue researching the rifts, help infected individuals like Lin Mo and Xiao Yu, or travel to other rift observation points. Other branches were vague, possibilities determined by external factors: the rifts suddenly expanding, a crisis erupting on the continent, Tang Wulin descending from the God Realm.
At the end of all these branches lies chaos. About ten years later, all clear futures cease, disappearing into an impenetrable gray fog. That is the point in time when the abyssal rift is completely eroded, the moment when nothingness descends. After that moment, there is no future, or rather, the future is uncertain, nonexistent.

“That’s what I have to change,” Qian Renxue thought. “I have to create a future that is solid enough to penetrate that gray fog and extend further into the distance.”

But what kind of future can be solid enough to pierce through nothingness?
She thought of that girl, Xiaoyu. Among countless future possibilities eroded by nothingness, the only surviving one was based on an ordinary moment: a teddy bear her mother gave her, her birthday, a smile. It wasn't a grand vision, not a great goal, but a simple, human connection.

Love. Memory. Warmth. These seemingly fragile things can survive in nothingness.

Qian Renxue suddenly had an idea. Perhaps, what is needed to combat nothingness is not greater power, but a deeper connection. Not to expand outward, but to delve inward. Not to become an impregnable fortress, but to become an indelible mark.

She sat up and took out a notebook and pen from her bag—this was prepared for her by Tang Wulin, who said it was standard equipment for a traveling scholar. She opened to the first page and began to write:

"Day 1, Northwind Town. I met a girl whose future was almost swallowed by nothingness. I helped her by reinforcing a moment in her memory. I realized that the anchor of the future might not be in grand plans, but in tiny connections."

“I am Qian Renxue, and also Xueyan. I was once an angel god, and now I am a mortal. I once protected the world in the heavens, and now I must understand it in the dust. Perhaps this is what I must go through—to come down from the highest place and touch the real ground in order to find what is truly worth protecting.”

“The old man said, I need a future that I can choose myself. So, I choose this kind of future: a world in which I understand and cherish every life, a world that persists even in the face of nothingness, a world in which I am not only a guardian but also a participant.”

"This choice is my first anchor point for the future."

After finishing writing, she closed her notebook. Outside the window, the moonlight was like water, and the distant crack emitted a faint gray-white light in the night, like a scar on the world.

Qian Renxue lay down and fell asleep quickly this time. In her dream, she saw countless scenes: the palace of Heaven Dou City, the altar of the Spirit Hall, the sea of ​​clouds in the God Realm, and even earlier, almost forgotten ones—her mother's gentle hand, her father's stern but caring gaze, and chasing butterflies in the garden as a child.
All of these are marks of her existence, her indelible past. And the future will be created by her own hands.

At dawn the next day, Lin Mo knocked on the door precisely on time. Qian Renxue was already prepared, with a simple backpack, enough drinking water and dry food, as well as a notebook and recording tools.

“Let’s go,” Lin Mo said. “The road is difficult to travel, and we need to return before dark.”

The two left Northwind Town and headed northeast. The initial path was relatively easy, a repaired trail. But two hours later, the trail vanished, leaving only tracks left by wild animals. The trees became increasingly sparse, and the vegetation grew more monotonous—green decreased, while gray and brown increased.

Three hours later, they arrived at the first checkpoint. It was a simple outpost guarded by two Soul Masters, both wearing dark blue uniforms similar to Lin Mo's.

“Permission granted.” A guard extended his hand.

Lin Mo handed over the documents. The guard carefully examined them, then scanned the two men's bodies with his equipment, before nodding: "You may pass. Remember, do not cross the four-kilometer mark, do not stay for more than six hours, and do not attempt to collect any samples. If you violate any of these rules, we have the right to take immediate enforcement action."

"clear."

Beyond the outpost, the environmental changes became more pronounced. The trees had vanished entirely, replaced by a grayish-white shrub with withered leaves that crumbled at the slightest touch. The ground was grayish-brown, devoid of moss or wild grass. A strange odor permeated the air, not a foul smell, but rather a "tasteless" one—a hollow feeling devoid of all other scents.

The most unsettling thing was the sound. Absolute silence, not even the sound of the wind. Their footsteps were amplified in this silence, sounding particularly jarring.

“We’ve entered the zone of influence,” Lin Mo whispered. “Here, all the senses become unreliable. Don’t believe what you see, hear, or even feel. Follow me and go with the marks.”

He pointed to the ground, where there was a fluorescent marker at regular intervals, all pointing in the same direction.

After walking for another hour, they arrived at Observation Point No. 2. It was a small metal platform, about three meters above the ground, surrounded by railings, and equipped with fixed equipment such as telescopes, spectrometers, and energy detectors.

“That’s the rift,” Lin Mo pointed eastward. (End of Chapter)