The Shocked Yu Xiaogang

"Hundred-Year Soul Ring."

Tang San repeated it, then added,

"I saw it with my own eyes. His First Soul Ring was a hundred years old, and his Soul Power was at level fifteen."

"Impossible."

Yu Xiaogang set down his teacup, his voice trembling slightly, as if he simply couldn't believe it.

"How could he possibly absorb a Hundred-Year Soul Ring?"

Tang San didn't answer. He looked straight at his teacher, standing quietly before him.

Yu Xiaogang stared at him, as if searching his face for a crack in the lie.

"Grandmaster Ma Xiunuo appraised it for him. He said Lin Ming's Soul Ring was at least four hundred years old."

Tang San's words shattered Yu Xiaogang's hopes completely.

Yu Xiaogang opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

The color drained from his face before Tang San's eyes.

"Over four hundred years..."

He murmured the words again.

"He was only level ten when he left..."

He held the words in his mouth, repeating them over and over.

Suddenly, he let out a laugh.

It was short and dry, like sandpaper scraping against glass.

"Hundred-Year Soul Ring, over four hundred years... level fifteen..."

He repeated the words again and again.

Then he pushed aside the notes in front of him. The notebook he had spent decades writing slid to the edge of the desk, nearly falling off.

He braced both hands against the desk, his fingertips turning white.

"How did he do it?"

Tang San shook his head.

Yu Xiaogang didn't ask anything else.

He lowered his head and fell silent.

The night wind blew in through the window, making the candle flame on the desk flicker.

Luo Sanpao appeared at his feet. Its plump body gently rubbed against his trouser leg, letting out a series of "luo-luo" sounds.

Yu Xiaogang looked at it.

He looked at those round, docile eyes, utterly devoid of aggression.

Suddenly, he remembered what Lin Ming had said in the library.

Luo Sanpao was weak not because it was a Detached Martial Soul, nor because it had undergone an abnormal mutation.

The main reason it was weak was that you were weak.

At the time, he'd thought it absurd.

But now...

Yu Xiaogang closed his eyes and kept them shut for a very long time.

Lin Ming didn't bring up the Soul Ring himself. When Wang Sheng and the others returned to school, they gathered around and asked him a couple of questions.

He simply said he'd obtained one.

He didn't mention its age or show them his Martial Soul.

Seeing that he didn't want to say more, Wang Sheng assumed it was a Ten-Year Soul Ring and wisely didn't press him.

Instead, he took the initiative to change the subject and talk about farm work back home.

Life passed peacefully.

The snowflake ring sat securely on Lin Ming's knuckle. By day, he went about cleaning the area assigned to him as usual; at night, he sat cross-legged in Dorm Seven to cultivate.

Little Lei Yi rested on his shoulder, occasionally making a tiny "Yi" sound, as if mumbling in a dream.

Liu Yun was still lying in a clinic in Nuoding City.

He wasn't dead, but he hadn't woken up either.

His family came by again and again, crying and making a scene. In the end, the academy paid them some compensation and sent them on their way.

Wang Sheng and the others cursed those damned nobles for a few days, but gradually stopped bringing it up.

Lin Ming didn't join in their cursing.

He knew the nobles hadn't done it.

Yu Xiaogang hadn't left his dorm room in days.

Tang San brought him food every day. Whenever he opened the door, he found Yu Xiaogang sitting at his desk, staring blankly at the yellowed notebook.

The food often sat on the table until it had gone cold, untouched.

"Teacher."

Tang San brought over the porridge he'd reheated and urged him,

"Please eat at least a little."

Yu Xiaogang lifted his head, his gaze unfocused.

Looking at Tang San, he suddenly asked,

"How old was the Mandala Snake you killed?"

Tang San paused, then replied,

"Four hundred and thirty-seven years."

"Four hundred and thirty-seven years."

Yu Xiaogang repeated the number, his voice dry.

"You killed it."

"Yes."

"We nearly died there... and his was over four hundred..."

Yu Xiaogang muttered the words, sinking into a daze.

"He killed it alone."

Tang San didn't reply. His fist hung at his side, clenched tight.

Yu Xiaogang lowered his head and rubbed his fingers over the notebook's cover.

It was something he'd spent decades copying and making things up for, and he'd always treated it like a treasure.

Now, though, he found it somewhat irritating.

"Back then..."

Yu Xiaogang's voice was faint, as if he were talking to himself.

"If he'd been willing to let me study him..."

He didn't finish.

Tang San stood silently, watching him.

At that moment, Tang San suddenly realized something.

From beginning to end, this teacher he'd taken had never wanted to accept him as a disciple for his own sake.

He wanted to know what Yu Xiaogang had been holding back.

Was it that he hadn't wanted to settle for him as a disciple?

Or that he'd hoped to see a way to break through level thirty?

Tang San remembered the day he'd first met Yu Xiaogang.

The stiff-faced, middle-aged man had seen his Blue Silver Grass and his Innate Full Soul Power.

Then he'd asked,

"Are you willing to take me as your teacher?"

At the time, Tang San had thought Yu Xiaogang had recognized his talent.

He'd thought Yu Xiaogang had seen how extraordinary he was.

Turns out, that wasn't it.

He'd only been a backup.

A second choice after Lin Ming had refused.

Was that it?

Teacher?

Tang San lowered his head, his body trembling slightly.

He didn't dare ask.

After living two lives, Yu Xiaogang was the only person who'd made him feel the warmth of family.

If he asked, would that small piece of familial affection vanish?

He didn't dare gamble on it.

"Teacher, do you know how Lin Ming managed to get a Soul Ring that old?"

Tang San drew a deep breath and asked calmly.

Yu Xiaogang lifted his head and stared at him in bewilderment.

Tang San looked him straight in the eye and said, one word at a time,

"I don't know, but if he could do it, then I definitely can too."

"I have Innate Full Soul Power and Twin Martial Souls."

"My first Soul Ring was four hundred and thirty-seven years old. It's no worse than his."

Tang San's voice was steady.

"If Lin Ming can do it, then I, Tang San, can only do it better."

Yu Xiaogang froze.

He looked into Tang San's eyes. Deep down, there was suppressed anger, resentment, and something else he knew all too well.

Jealousy.

It was the same emotion that had surged in Yu Xiaogang's eyes when he'd watched the talented disciples of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan in his youth.

Yu Xiaogang opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But nothing came out.

Because he realized that, at that moment, he could barely bring himself to look his disciple in the eye.

"You're right."

Yu Xiaogang looked away, his voice hoarse.

"You have Twin Martial Souls and Innate Full Soul Power. What does Lin Ming have that could compare to you?"

He paused, as if trying to convince himself.

"It's only a Hundred-Year Soul Ring. You have one too. You'll be far stronger than him in the future."

Tang San didn't respond.

He picked up the bowl of porridge that had gone cold on the table and turned toward the door.

"Teacher, get some rest."

As the door closed, Tang San stood in the dim corridor and poured the porridge into a nearby trash can.

Then he turned and left.

The old man needed to go hungry for a while before he'd come to his senses.

Dorm Seven.

Lin Ming sat cross-legged on his bed, Soul Power flowing quietly through his body.

Little Lei Yi dozed on his shoulder.

The door opened.

Tang San walked in and stood by the doorway without moving.

Lin Ming didn't open his eyes. The rhythm of his Soul Power remained unchanged.

Little Lei Yi stirred, though. He lifted his head halfway and sleepily looked toward Tang San.

"Lin Ming."

Tang San spoke, his voice trembling slightly.