Yu Xiaogang's Shock

"A hundred-year Soul Ring."

Tang San repeated, then added.

"I saw it with my own eyes, the first Soul Ring was a hundred years, and his Soul Power was level fifteen."

"Impossible."

Yu Xiaogang put down his teacup, his voice trembling slightly, as if he couldn't believe it at all.

"How could he absorb a hundred-year Soul Ring?"

Tang San didn't reply, staring directly at the teacher who stood quietly, looking at him.

Yu Xiaogang stared at him, as if trying to find a flaw in his words on his face.

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

Tang San's words completely shattered his fantasy.

Yu Xiaogang opened his mouth but made no sound.

His face turned pale at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Four hundred years or more..."

He muttered repeatedly.

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

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

Suddenly, he let out a laugh.

The sound was short and dry, like sandpaper scraping across glass.

"A hundred-year Soul Ring, four hundred or more... level fifteen..."

He repeated this sentence many times.

Then he pushed aside the notebook in front of him. The notebook, which he had spent decades writing, was pushed to the corner of the table, almost falling off.

He propped himself up on the table with both hands, his fingertips turning white.

"How did he do it?"

Tang San shook his head.

Yu Xiaogang didn't ask any more questions.

He lowered his head and fell silent.

The night wind outside blew in, and the candlelight on the table flickered.

Luo Sanpao appeared at his feet, its round body gently rubbing against his trouser leg, making a purring sound.

Yu Xiaogang looked at it.

He looked at those round, gentle, and non-aggressive eyes.

He suddenly remembered what Lin Ming had said in the library.

Luo Sanpao was weak, not because it was an externalized Martial Soul, nor because of its malignant mutation.

The primary reason it was weak was because you were weak.

He had thought it was absurd at the time.

But now...

Yu Xiaogang closed his eyes, not opening them for a long, long time.

Lin Ming didn't mention the Soul Ring himself. After Wang Sheng and the others returned to school, they asked a couple of questions.

He just said he hunted it.

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

Seeing that he didn't want to talk about it, Wang Sheng assumed it was a ten-year Soul Ring and tactfully didn't press further.

Instead, he changed the subject and started talking about farm work at home.

Life passed quietly.

The snowflake ring on Lin Ming's knuckle was firmly in place. He continued to clean his assigned area during the day and meditated cross-legged in the seventh dormitory at night.

Little Lei Yi lay on his shoulder, occasionally letting out a soft "Yi" sound, as if murmuring in its sleep.

Liu Yun was still lying in the infirmary in Nuoding City.

He wasn't dead, nor was he awake.

His family came again and again, crying and making a fuss, but were eventually sent away with some compensation from the academy.

Wang Sheng and the others cursed the damn nobles for a few days, then gradually stopped mentioning it.

Lin Ming did not participate in the cursing.

He knew it wasn't the work of nobles.

Yu Xiaogang hadn't left his dorm room these past few days.

Tang San brought him food every day. Whenever he pushed the door open, he would always see Yu Xiaogang sitting at his desk, staring blankly at a yellowed notebook.

The food was often cold by the time it was placed on the table, untouched.

"Teacher."

Tang San brought the reheated porridge back over and urged him.

"Please eat a little."

Yu Xiaogang looked up, his eyes somewhat unfocused.

He looked at Tang San's face and suddenly asked.

"How many years old was that Mandala Snake of yours?"

Tang San was taken aback for a moment, 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 almost died there... that four-hundred-year-plus..."

Yu Xiaogang let the words hang in the air, lost in a daze.

"He killed it alone."

Tang San didn't respond, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Yu Xiaogang lowered his head, his fingers rubbing the cover of the notebook.

It was something he had spent decades copying and fabricating, something he usually cherished like a treasure.

Now, it felt somewhat like an eyesore.

"Back then..."

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

"If he had been willing to let me research..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

Tang San stood in place, watching him quietly.

At this moment, Tang San suddenly realized something.

The teacher he had taken on had never intended to take him as a disciple from the very beginning.

He wanted to know what Yu Xiaogang had left unsaid.

Was it that he didn't have to settle for Tang San as a disciple?

Or was it that he could see hope of breaking through level thirty?

Tang San remembered the first time he met Yu Xiaogang.

The middle-aged man with a stiff expression had seen his Blue Silver Grass, seen his Innate Full Soul Power.

Then he asked.

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

Tang San had thought it was discerning insight at the time.

He thought Yu Xiaogang had seen his extraordinary potential.

It turned out not to be the case.

He was just a backup option.

A backup option chosen only after Lin Ming had refused.

Was that it?

Teacher?

Tang San lowered his head, his body trembling slightly.

He didn't dare to ask.

Having lived two lives, he had only felt a sense of familial affection from Yu Xiaogang.

If he were to ask, would this trace of familial affection disappear?

He didn't dare to gamble.

"Teacher, do you know how Lin Ming achieved the age of his Soul Rings?"

Tang San took a deep breath and said calmly.

Yu Xiaogang looked up at him, bewildered.

Tang San stared directly into his eyes and said, word by word.

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

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

"My first Soul Ring is four hundred and thirty-seven years, which is no lower than his."

Tang San's voice was steady.

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

Yu Xiaogang was stunned.

He looked into Tang San's eyes, and in their depths, he saw suppressed rage, unwillingness, and something he was very familiar with.

Jealousy.

It was the emotion that surged in his eyes when he watched the talented disciples of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan in his youth.

Yu Xiaogang opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But he didn't say anything.

Because he found that facing this disciple, he was actually a little afraid to look him in the eye at this moment.

"You're right."

Yu Xiaogang averted his gaze, his voice hoarse.

"You have Twin Martial Souls and Innate Full Soul Power. How can Lin Ming compare to you?"

He paused, as if convincing himself.

"It's just a hundred-year Soul Ring. You have that too. You will be much stronger than him in the future."

Tang San didn't reply.

He picked up the bowl of cold congee on the table, turned around, and walked towards the door.

"Teacher, please rest well."

The moment the door closed, Tang San stood in the dim corridor and poured the congee from the bowl into the trash can beside him.

Then he turned and left.

The old guy only gets clear-headed when he's hungry.

Dormitory Seven.

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

Little Lei Yi was dozing on his shoulder.

The door was pushed open.

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

Lin Ming didn't open his eyes, and the rhythm of his Soul Power circulation remained unchanged.

Little Lei Yi, however, stirred. He half-raised his head and looked groggily in Tang San's direction.

"Lin Ming."

Tang San spoke, his voice trembling slightly.