Tang Hao: Hand Over the Money!

"What should we do with the Light Goddess Butterfly egg?"

Tang San turned his attention to the white egg.

"Let's just leave it for now."

After thinking for a while, Zhou Qing made his decision.

The Light Goddess Butterfly, as a Martial Soul, was known as the ultimate embodiment of beauty.

Was beauty an attribute?

Zhou Qing did not know, but as a Soul Beast, the Light Goddess Butterfly was undoubtedly exceedingly rare. It would be enough to store the egg for future use.

The fact that this egg had not hatched after so many years meant that its hatching conditions were demanding, or perhaps the silver box containing it could suppress its hatching.

Whatever the reason, it was unsuitable to hatch it in the short term.

At the very least, Zhou Qing needed to learn more from documents and records concerning the Light Goddess Butterfly before he could determine how to raise this Soul Beast's young.

"Alright, then."

Tang San did not ask any further questions. Seeing that the sky was about to grow dark, he reluctantly put down the Soul Guidance Crystal in his hand and headed for his family's Blacksmith Shop.

"Dad, I'm back. I brought food."

After placing the rice balls on the table, Tang San called into the room.

Yawning, Tang Hao walked out, picked up a rice ball, and stuffed it into his mouth. Then he suddenly asked, "Old Jack hasn't brought over any farm tools this past month. Do you know what's going on?"

Now that there was a Forge Workshop in the village, the villagers no longer asked Old Jack to bring their farm tools over. Tang Hao had not gone hungry—Tang San brought him food every day—but he always felt as though he were being given charity, and it wounded his pride.

In the past, when Old Jack nagged him a little, Tang Hao would let it go in one ear and out the other. After all, he believed that he still earned his own food and clothing by forging for the villagers.

But now there was no work, and what little pride he had left had taken a blow.

"A new Forge Workshop was built in the village," Tang San said.

Someone had stolen his business?

Tang Hao raised a brow, but he was not the sort to smash someone else's signboard, so he asked, "Who opened it?"

"Zhou Qing..."

"That brat?" Tang Hao was speechless.

"And me."

Tang Hao drew a deep breath, crushed the rice ball in his hand, and demanded, "...So you do odd jobs for him, and this little bit of food is your payment? So calculating and deceitful at such a young age!"

Hearing Tang Hao judge Zhou Qing like that, Tang San also showed his displeasure. "I get meals there, and the villagers aren't bad people either."

Before meeting Zhou Qing, he too had believed the villagers only respected the rich and looked down on the poor.

Even now, he still thought so to some extent. But after spending so much time with Zhou Qing, he had also come to see the simple, honest side of Holy Soul Village's residents.

As Zhou Qing put it—

"Everyone just wants to live."

Tang San looked intensely at Tang Hao and, for the first time, offered him advice. "Dad, why don't you work in the city? Or clear a patch of land nearby? As long as you work, the villagers won't gossip about you anymore. I saw Uncle Li and Uncle Wang fighting to the death yesterday over some trivial matter, but today they were sitting together having drinks... Dad, as long as you work, your relationship with the villagers will get better."

Tang Hao said nothing. After finishing the rice ball, he said, "They're nothing but illiterate, narrow-minded commoners."

"Isn't Dad one too?"

Tang San could actually tell that Tang Hao's Qi and Blood was abundant and his physique was strong. He had likely practiced some kind of external martial art, rather than merely being a naturally robust man.

But no matter how glorious he might once have been, he was now just a blacksmith in Holy Soul Village. What was the point of dwelling on the past?

People had to live!

In any case, after truly eating his fill once while following Zhou Qing, Tang San no longer wanted to live such a miserable life with Tang Hao.

"What the hell do you know!"

Tang Hao's eyes reddened, and a faint aura rose around him.

Though it vanished in an instant and was immediately withdrawn, leaving behind only the crude appearance of impotent rage, Tang San still keenly sensed it—such an aura was by no means ordinary. Just who is my father?

Yet if he possessed such an aura, why was he so dejected?

Truly strange...

The next day.

When Tang San went to find Zhou Qing, Tang Hao did the unthinkable and left the house, walking onto the village streets.

When the villagers saw him, none dared approach.

Aside from the smell of alcohol clinging to him, everyone in the village knew Tang Hao had a bad temper. Coupled with his build, no one wanted to go over and get beaten up.

After making his way through the streets and finding Zhou Qing's home, he saw Tang San in the Forge Workshop beside it, holding a forging hammer and hammering the edge of a hoe for a farmer. His brow furrowed tightly.

"It's fixed, Uncle Li. Your hoe can still be used; there's no need to recast it."

Only after personally repairing the farmer's tool did Tang San realize that, for farmers, a tool merely needed to be usable. It did not have to be perfect. His father, however, had always melted down those old tools and recast them.

Although the farm tools Tang Hao reforged were more durable, they were also more expensive. To the villagers of Holy Soul Village, a tool only needed to work—the cheaper, the better.

The villager happily took the hoe and turned to leave, only to see Tang Hao standing there with a gloomy expression. He gave an awkward smile, then shouldered the hoe and quickly ran off.

"Dad."

Tang San was also somewhat surprised to see Tang Hao arrive.

"So you're the blacksmith here?" Tang Hao's tone carried a trace of mockery. "Never thought the one stealing my livelihood would be my own son."

Tang San hurriedly invited Tang Hao inside and poured him some tea. "Why are you here, Dad?"

"I thought you were just doing odd jobs, handing out towels, fetching water, that sort of thing. Never expected you to be a blacksmith." After drinking the tea, Tang Hao said coldly, "And you repair things like that for people?"

"Uh... Though the Durability of ordinary iron tools can't compare to finished products that you personally reforge, Dad, patching and repairing them like this still lets them last quite a while before they are completely worn out and unusable. Besides, the total cost is even lower." Tang San analyzed the advantages of his own method and Tang Hao's from the perspectives of Durability and service life.

But what did Tang Hao know about any of that?

He only felt that Tang San had become mercenary as well, and his expression darkened further. He barked, "You're just greedy for money! I saw it just now. That man gave you money. Hand it over!"

This was what angered Tang Hao even more.

At such a young age, he already dared to stash away private money?

Was he trying to set up on his own?!

Absolutely not!

Even though Tang San had been strange ever since he was little, he was still Ah Yin's bloodline. Tang Hao could not let the boy continue to "fall" like this.

"Tang—Hao!"

Old Jack came jogging over from afar, followed by seven or eight burly men and five or six farm women. One of the men was the very person who had just asked Tang San to repair his hoe blade.

He had gone to find Old Jack.

"Tang Hao, what are you trying to do?" Old Jack demanded. "I heard you from a long way off. You're actually asking your own son for money? Don't you think that's going too far?"