Three days later.
Morning.
Old Jack, dressed in clean, neat clothes with his hair combed meticulously, arrived at Tang San's blacksmith shop as promised and called inside:
"Xiao San, Grandpa Jack has come to pick you up. Come out quickly and get ready to attend the Martial Soul Awakening Ceremony."
Inside the crude mud-brick house.
A square Eight Immortals table stood in the center.
A large bowl of thin porridge and several plates of pickled vegetables sat on the table. They were all breakfast Tang San had prepared.
Tang Hao and Tang San each sat on a long wooden bench.
Father and son sat facing each other.
Tang Hao slurped down porridge in huge mouthfuls, his chopsticks constantly picking up pickled vegetables and shoving them into his mouth.
Before long, most of the porridge and pickled vegetables on the table had gone into Tang Hao's stomach.
Tang San had barely eaten anything, yet he did not find anything wrong with it. At that moment, he felt especially happy.
Because this was what having a father felt like!
Just then, Old Jack's call came through the curtain outside.
Tang San lifted his head from his bowl and glanced at his father.
Tang Hao remained expressionless as he said indifferently:
"Go. Remember to come back early and clean up the bowls and chopsticks. And don't delay making lunch."
After saying that, Tang Hao tossed aside his bowl and chopsticks, grabbed the wine gourd hanging at his waist, and gulped down several more mouthfuls of cheap ale.
"Yes, Father!"
Tang San answered happily, set down his bowl and chopsticks, and quickly ran out of the blacksmith shop to meet Old Jack, who was waiting outside.
Just as Tang San lifted the door curtain and walked out.
A flash of red light flickered through