Tang San, Starved for Love

When the first light of dawn quietly tore through the curtain of night, the sky revealed a hazy scene—that was the moment of daybreak. The edge of the horizon seemed brushed with a faint layer of pale gray by a gentle hand, gradually spreading across the entire dome. The stars faded, the crescent moon still lingered, yet it too appeared somewhat dim in this weak glow.

On a small hill only a hundred meters high, adjacent to Holy Soul Village, a figure as thin as a stray dog sat quietly on the hilltop.

He was five or six years old, with slightly dark skin, but healthy.

Short black hair, a simple set of clothes patched in several places.

This person was Tang San, the one who, after being caught stealing, was chased like a dog and, with no escape, jumped off a cliff to end his life.

A hint of fish-belly white gradually rose on the eastern horizon.

Tang San quickly perked up, breathing evenly, his gaze fixed intently on that patch of fish-belly white.

Suddenly, Tang San's eyes snapped wide open. Within that gradually brightening fish-belly white, a faint trace of purple energy flickered almost imperceptibly. If not for his intense focus and extraordinary eyesight, he would never have detected that wisp of purple.

Tang San subconsciously held his breath, concentrating fully on that elusive purple energy. The purple energy lasted only a short time; when the eastern fish-belly white was covered by the rising sun, the purple energy vanished completely.

Only then did Tang San close his eyes and exhale a mouthful of turbid air.

When he opened his eyes again, a faint layer of purple actually flickered in his pupils, though this phenomenon didn't last long before quietly fading away.

Tang San let out a long sigh, shook his head, and wore a helpless expression as he muttered to himself, "Still no good. To this day, I still can't break through the first level of Mysterious Heaven Skill."

"The bottleneck of Mysterious Heaven Skill can't be broken, so my Mysterious Jade Hand is also stuck, unable to improve further.

But even the Purple Demon Eye, which can only be cultivated in the morning by relying on the purple energy from the east, has been progressing. Why is Mysterious Heaven Skill stuck? Where is the problem?

When I cultivated before, I didn't have this issue going from the First Level to the Second Level. Mysterious Heaven Skill has nine levels total—why is the first level so troublesome?

Could it be that Mysterious Heaven Skill can't be cultivated in this world?"

"Time to go back."

Tang San sat on the hilltop for a long time, until the sky gradually darkened, before getting up and running down the mountain.

If anyone had seen him at that moment, they would have been utterly stunned.

On the uneven, rugged mountain terrain, Tang San's figure moved as nimbly as a wild boar.

His steps were light and steady, as if the rough mountain path beneath him wasn't an obstacle but a fun challenge.

He easily dodged obstacles all the way, moving swiftly.

On the west side of Holy Soul Village, three very crude earthen houses were Tang San's doghouse.

As everyone knew, Tang San's mother died early, so the kid had lacked love since childhood.

Thus, from a young age, he had relied on his father Tang Hao to survive. Although Tang Hao didn't raise him like a human, Tang San never abandoned him and was filial in every way.

As soon as he entered the house, the aroma of food wafted over.

Before leaving, Tang San had made breakfast.

Every morning before going out, he would put the rice in the pot and set up the firewood.

That way, by the time he returned, the rice porridge would be ready.

Since he was four years old, the task of cooking had fallen on Tang San.

Tang San had taken the initiative to do this, because when Tang Hao cooked, he often went hungry—there wasn't enough food. To avoid living on three meals in nine days, Tang San picked up the spatula.

Once he picked it up, he never had a chance to put it down.

Tang San came to the stove. Not tall enough, he had to stand on a stool.

His small hand reached for the pot lid and gently lifted it. A cloud of steam rich with the fragrance of rice instantly rose.

Through the hazy steam, he could see clearly inside the pot.

The rice porridge in the pot had already boiled to a mushy consistency. In the thick broth, the grains tumbled, each one fully soaked with water, plump and soft.

Tang San picked up two broken bowls with chipped edges, scooped up two bowls of porridge with a ladle, and placed them on the rickety table nearby.

The rice grains in the porridge were pitifully few. For Tang San, who was in the middle of growing, this nutrition was clearly insufficient—which was why he was as thin as a stray dog.

"Dad, time to eat," Tang San called toward the inner room.

After a long moment, the door curtain was pushed aside. A tall, burly figure, as sturdy as a bear, staggered out unsteadily—Tang Hao. He carried a smell of alcohol.

He yawned, looking drowsy, like a bear about to hibernate.

Toward Tang San, Tang Hao had always been indifferent and neglectful. When he was little, he would occasionally whip up some soup or broth for Tang San, feeding him like a pig.

But once he knew Tang San could cook, he completely stopped caring about anything.

Tang Hao was the only blacksmith in Holy Soul Village. He usually made farm tools for the villagers. Logically, that should have been a decent trade, and life shouldn't have been too poor.

But the reality was that the whole family was dirt poor, because Tang Hao was addicted to alcohol. The meager earnings from blacksmithing all went to buy liquor.

Even so, Tang San never resented Tang Hao. In his past life, he was an orphan. Though taken in by the Tang Sect and provided for, the Tang Sect never gave him a sense of home.

This life was different. Even though Tang Hao wasn't good to him, at least he was family. At least there was someone here he could call Dad.

To him, fatherly love was right before his eyes, yet unreachable.

But even so, he was already very content.

At least here, there was someone he could call Dad.

Father and son began wolfing down their meal, but the porridge they'd cooked was limited to begin with, and more than half of it ended up in Tang Hao's stomach. Tang San could only eat until he was half full.

"Take the job when it comes. I'll do it in the afternoon. That's settled—I'm going back to sleep for a while."

With that, Tang Hao got up and headed for the inner room. Washing the pots and bowls was, of course, Tang San's job. This was Tang Hao's version of fatherly love!

The so-called jobs were just farming tools the villagers asked Tang Hao to forge—the father and son's only source of income.

"Dad." Tang San suddenly called out.

Tang Hao stopped and turned back at the sound, but his expression was noticeably more impatient. "What is it?"

"Dad, can I use this piece of iron?" Tang San pointed at a chunk of raw iron in the corner.

In his past life, he had been an Outer Sect disciple of the Tang Sect, committing every method of hidden weapon construction to memory. Later, he had even secretly learned the Hidden Weapon Hundred Solutions and crafted the Buddha's Fury Tang Lotus.

Asking for raw iron was naturally to forge hidden weapons. With hidden weapons, he could kill and burn, sending those who deserved death down to hell.

Following the direction of Tang San's finger, Tang Hao saw the raw iron—a good piece that even contained some Iron Essence.

"You want to be a blacksmith in the future?"

Tang San nodded. "Dad, teach me to forge. Once I become a blacksmith, you won't have to work so hard anymore."

In his past life, Tang San had always used ready-made refined iron to make hidden weapons. He knew very little about how to forge or how to remove impurities from raw iron—it was simply a matter of different specialties.

Tang Hao's gaze drifted slightly, and he murmured to himself, "A blacksmith... not bad."

"Xiao San, then tell me—what kind of blacksmith do you think is the best blacksmith?"