When dawn quietly tore through the curtain of night, the sky took on a hazy appearance. It was the moment when day was just breaking. The edge of the horizon seemed to have been brushed with a faint gray-white, which gradually spread across the heavens. The stars faded, and the crescent moon remained, though it too looked somewhat dim in the weak light.
On a small hill just over a hundred meters high, beside Holy Soul Village, a figure as thin as a stray dog sat quietly.
He looked five or six years old. His skin was a little dark, but he was healthy.
He had short black hair and wore simple clothes patched in several places.
This was Tang San, the one who had been exposed for stealing, chased like a dog with nowhere to run, and finally jumped off a cliff to end his life.
A pale white glow slowly rose along the eastern horizon.
Tang San braced himself, breathing evenly as he stared intently at the pale glow.
Suddenly, Tang San's eyes widened. In the gradually brightening white sky, a faint trace of purple qi flickered almost imperceptibly. If he hadn't been so focused, or possessed such astonishing eyesight, he would never have noticed it.
Tang San unconsciously held his breath and concentrated on the faint, elusive purple qi. It lasted only a short while. Once the sunrise covered the pale glow in the east, the purple qi vanished completely.
Only then did Tang San close his eyes and let out a breath of stale air.
When he opened his eyes again, a faint purple sheen flickered in them. But this phenomenon didn't last long before it quietly faded.
Tang San sighed and shook his head helplessly. He muttered to himself, "Still no good. Even now, I still can't break through the first level of the Mysterious Heaven Skill."
"Since I can't break through the Mysterious Heaven Skill's bottleneck, my Mysterious Jade Hand can only stagnate along with it. I can't improve it any further.
"But even the Purple Demon Eye, which I can only cultivate in the morning by relying on purple qi coming from the east, keeps making progress. Why has the Mysterious Heaven Skill become stuck? What exactly is the problem?
"Back when I cultivated it, I didn't run into this kind of problem when advancing from the first level to the Second Level. The Mysterious Heaven Skill has nine levels, so why is even the first one such a hassle?
"Could it be that the Mysterious Heaven Skill can't be cultivated in this world?"
"I should head back."
Tang San sat on the mountaintop for a long time. Only when the sky had begun to darken did he get up and run downhill.
If anyone had seen him then, they would have been stunned.
Among the uneven, pitted slopes, Tang San moved as nimbly as a wild boar.
His steps were light and steady, as though the rugged mountain path wasn't an obstacle to him but an entertaining challenge.
He easily dodged obstacles as he hurried along.
On the western side of Holy Soul Village stood three crude earthen houses. That was Tang San's doghouse.
Everyone knew Tang San's mother had died early, and he'd grown up starved for love.
So, from childhood onward, he and his father, Tang Hao, had depended on each other. Although Tang Hao hadn't raised him like a person, Tang San had always stayed by his side and been dutiful in every way.
As soon as he entered the house, the aroma of food wafted toward him.
Before leaving, Tang San had already made breakfast.
Every morning before he went out, he put rice in the pot and prepared the firewood.
That way, the porridge would be ready by the time he returned.
The task of cooking had fallen to Tang San when he was four.
It had been his own idea. When Tang Hao cooked, Tang San often went hungry because there wasn't enough food. To avoid living on three meals across nine days, Tang San had taken up the spatula himself.
And once he'd picked it up, he'd never had the chance to put it down.
Tang San went to the stove. He wasn't tall enough, so he had to stand on a stool.
His small hand reached for the lid and lifted it gently. A cloud of steam, rich with the fragrance of rice, rose into the air.
Through the hazy steam, he could see what was in the pot.
The porridge had been cooked until it was mushy. In the thick broth, grains of rice tumbled about, each one having soaked up plenty of water until it was plump and soft.
Tang San took two chipped, battered bowls, ladled porridge into them, and set them on the broken table nearby.
There were pitifully few grains of rice in the porridge. For a growing boy like Tang San, it clearly wasn't enough nourishment. That was why he was as thin as a stray dog.
"Dad, it's time to eat," Tang San called toward the inner room.
After a while, the curtain lifted, and Tang Hao emerged with unsteady, staggering steps. He was tall and burly, as strong as a bear, and reeked of alcohol.
He yawned, looking bleary-eyed, like a bear about to hibernate.
Tang Hao had never paid much attention to Tang San. When Tang San was little, he would at least occasionally make him some watery soup, feeding him like a pig.
But once he learned that Tang San could cook, he stopped taking care of anything altogether.
Tang Hao was the only blacksmith in Holy Soul Village. He usually made farm tools for the villagers, which was a trade that should have earned him enough to keep them from being too poor.
But the whole family was dirt poor, because Tang Hao loved alcohol, and every last copper he earned from blacksmithing went toward buying booze.
Even so, Tang San had never resented Tang Hao. In his previous life, he'd been an orphan. Though the Tang Sect had taken him in and he'd never wanted for food or clothing, it had never given him the feeling of having a home.
This life was different. Though Tang Hao wasn't very good to him, he was at least family. At least here, there was someone he could call Dad.
To Tang San, a father's love was right before his eyes, yet still out of reach.
Even so, he was already quite satisfied.
At least here, there was someone he could call Dad.
The father and son began wolfing down their food. There hadn't been much porridge to begin with, and more than half of it ended up in Tang Hao's stomach, so Tang San could only eat until he was half full.
"Someone's brought work. Take it for now. I'll do it this afternoon. That's all. I'm going back to sleep for a while."
With that, Tang Hao got up and headed for the inner room. Washing the pot and bowls naturally fell to Tang San too. That was Tang Hao's fatherly love for him!
The work in question was making farm tools for the villagers. It was the only source of income for the father and son.
"Dad," Tang San suddenly called.
Tang Hao paused and turned around. His expression had clearly grown impatient. "What is it?"
"Dad, can I use this piece of iron?" Tang San pointed to a lump of raw iron in the corner.
In his previous life, he had been a disciple of the Tang Sect's Outer Sect, and he knew how to make all kinds of Hidden Weapons by heart. Later, he had even secretly learned the Hidden Weapon Hundred Solutions and made the Buddha's Fury Tang Lotus.
Naturally, he wanted the iron so he could make Hidden Weapons. With them, he could kill, set fires, and send those who deserved death straight to hell.
Following Tang San's finger, Tang Hao saw the lump of raw iron. It was a fine piece, containing Iron Essence.
"Do you want to become a blacksmith someday?"
Tang San nodded. "Dad, teach me to forge iron. Once I become a blacksmith, you won't have to work so hard."
In his previous life, Tang San had made Hidden Weapons from ready-made refined iron. He knew very little about forging or removing impurities from raw iron. After all, each trade had its own specialty.
Tang Hao looked momentarily distracted and muttered, "A blacksmith. That wouldn't be bad."
"Xiao San, what do you think makes someone the best blacksmith?"
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