Tang San, Your Mother Wasn't Human-She Was a Soul Beast
On the outskirts of the Star Dou Great Forest, the stench of blood permeated the air.
"Bang!!!"
Tang Hao smashed the head of a leopard-shaped Millennium Spirit Beast with his Clear Sky Hammer, scattering bits of flesh and bone everywhere.
The dark gold patterns on the hammer were covered with red and white liquid, which dripped down the surface of the hammer.
The leopard-shaped Soul Beast's corpse twitched twice before crashing to the ground, crushing a patch of bushes.
The broken branch snapped with a cracking sound.
"Cough cough!"
Tang Hao knelt on one knee, coughing violently, and spat a mouthful of dark red blood onto the grass.
Blood droplets clung to the tips of the grass, trembling, reflecting the sparse light filtering through the tree canopy.
"Dad!"
Tang San rushed over and grabbed Tang Hao's arms with both hands.
That arm was as hard as iron, yet it was trembling slightly.
His muscles were taut, his veins were bulging, and his skin was frighteningly hot.
"Fine."
Tang Hao wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve, his voice as rough as a bellows.
His sleeve was stained with a dark red stain, making it impossible to tell whether it was the blood of Soul Beast or his own.
He braced himself against the ground, his knees lifted off the ground, and he swayed before regaining his balance.
"Help me... to that way."
Tang Hao pointed to a blue stone that was about half a person's height.
The surface of the bluestone was covered with dark green moss, and a few ferns sprouted from the cracks in the stone.
Tang San gritted his teeth and used his thin shoulders to support half of his father's weight.
Tang Hao's arm pressed down on his shoulder, the force as heavy as a mountain.
Tang San's knees bent, his feet sinking into the soft humus, but he gritted his teeth and held on.
With each step Tang Hao took, large beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
Sweat trickled down the lines of his cheeks and dripped onto Tang San's shoulder.
His breathing was rapid and labored, like a bellows with a hole in it, and with each breath, his chest made a hoarse rumbling sound.
The fight against the Blue Silver King just now aggravated my old injuries.
That plant Soul Beast, over 80,000 years old, had vines that could lash out with the force of shattered stones.
Tang Hao withstood three blows before his old wound reopened.
On their way out, they encountered several more Soul Beast that were drawn by the smell of blood, including one that was ten thousand years old.
Tang Hao smashed its skull with a single blow, but he also coughed up blood twice.
He has now almost completely drained of his Soul Power.
The meridians are empty, like a dried-up riverbed.
Tang San settled his father beside the bluestone, letting Tang Hao's back rest against the cool stone surface.
The warmth of the bluestone seeped through his clothes, and Tang Hao's tense back slowly relaxed.
He closed his eyes tightly, breathing heavily.
"Dad, don't move."
Tang San took out several small cloth bags from the Soul Tool at his waist.
The bag was made of coarse linen with the opening tied with a leather rope.
He first untied one and poured out a pale yellow powder.
Tang San ran around the bluestone once, sprinkling insect repellent powder.
The powder hissed as it hit the ground, and the insects on the ground scattered and fled.
Several black beetles rolled over, their legs twitched a few times, and then they remained still.
The ant colony was thrown into chaos and scattered, some crawling onto grass blades only to get stuck in the powder.
Then he sprinkled a dark brown poison powder.
He used the venom sac of Datura Snake to make it.
Tang San dried the poison sac, ground it into powder, and mixed it with three kinds of herbs, which multiplied the toxicity several times.
The powder adhered to the surrounding tree trunks and shrubs.
The leaves that came into contact with the powder immediately curled at the edges and turned a burnt yellow.
Tiny white bubbles were hissing on the moss on the tree trunk.
Any touch by Soul Beast will cause the skin to ulcerate.
Tang San squatted down and grabbed a handful of withered leaves to cover the powder as a disguise.
After doing all this, Tang San quickly returned to Tang Hao's side and took out clean strips of cloth and hemostatic medicine from another bag.
He tore open Tang Hao's clothes, which were soaked with blood.
The fabric was stuck to the wound, making a soft tearing sound when it was torn apart.
Tang Hao grunted, his fist clenching and then relaxing.
A gruesome wound stretched from the collarbone to the ribs.
The skin and flesh were rolled up, the edges of which had turned black, and the rolled-up flesh had a dark purple hue, the color of congealed blood.
The muscles deep inside the wound were still twitching slightly, each twitch squeezing out a little dark red blood.
Tang San's hand trembled slightly.
My fingertips hovered above the wound, afraid to fall.
"The Xiao San."
Tang Hao kept his eyes closed, his voice steady.
"Just do it."
Tang San took a deep breath.
He sprinkled the hemostatic powder evenly on the wound.
The powder immediately turned into pale yellow foam upon contact with blood, making a sizzling sound.
More and more foam appeared, covering the rolled-up flesh.
Tang Hao's facial muscles twitched twice, his masseter muscles bulged, and then subsided.
He didn't say a word.
Tang San wrapped the wound tightly with strips of cloth, his movements quick and steady.
The strip of cloth goes from the collarbone, around the armpit, and then back to the front of the chest, each loop overlapping the previous one.
When Tang San finished wrapping the cloth around his skin for the seventh time, he tied a knot and pulled hard—the cloth stuck tightly to his skin and wouldn't loosen.
After the bandage was applied, Tang Hao's breathing gradually calmed down.
The rise and fall of the chest cavity became smaller and the rhythm slower.
Tang San sat down beside his father and remained silent for a long time.
The wind rustled through the tree canopy.
A gray bird took flight from a branch, its wings flapping wildly, and disappeared into the depths of the dense forest.
Tang San clenched his fists.
My fingertips dug into my palm, leaving several white marks.
"... dad."
Tang Hao didn't open his eyes.
"Um."
Tang San's Adam's apple bobbed.
Why did you take me to the Blue Silver Forest?
Tang San clenched his fist even tighter.
"Why are those Blue Silver Grass attacking us?"
He always felt there was some secret he didn't know about.
From the moment we entered the Blue Silver Forest, everything seemed strange.
Initially, some of the Blue Silver Grass did show a friendly reaction when they sensed his Martial Soul, their blades swaying gently as if greeting him.
But the next second, all the Blue Silver Grass lashed out like madmen.
Tang Hao opened his eyes.
Those eyes were bloodshot and cloudy, as if covered with a layer of gray.
Blood vessels stretched from the corners of his eyes to the edges of his pupils, each one as thin as a hair, yet glaringly red.
The gray haze obscured the original color, making the eyes look like a frozen river in winter.
Tang Hao stared at the dense canopy of trees above him, remaining silent for a long time.
The tree canopy was layered, with dark and light green leaves intertwined, and occasionally a beam of light would leak through the gaps and shine on Tang Hao's face.
His face was deeply lined with wrinkles, each one bearing the marks of time and hardship.
"The Xiao San."
Tang Hao's voice was hoarse, as if it had been sanded.
Two tears suddenly slid down that weathered face.
Turbid.
Silent.
Tears overflowed from the corners of his eyes, streaming down the wrinkles, across his cheekbones, over his nasolabial folds, and onto his stubble.
Tang San's heart clenched painfully.
In his memory, his father was always that drunken, taciturn blacksmith.
In the blacksmith's shop in Holy Soul Village, the furnace was burning red-hot, and Tang Hao swung his hammer, clanging and banging it against the red-hot iron.
Sparks flew everywhere, landing on his bare arms and burning white spots, but he didn't even flinch.
Even in the most destitute times of Holy Soul Village, even when others gossiped and called him a good-for-nothing, Tang Hao never shed a single tear.
The woman next door was making veiled insults, and he rolled over and started snoring loudly.
He's crying now.
"Dad..."
Tang San opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked.
"You asked me who your mother is."
Tang Hao wiped away the tears on his face with his rough fingers, his voice so soft it seemed to dissipate in the wind.
My fingertips were covered in calluses, making a soft, rustling sound as they rubbed against my face.
The tear stains were wiped away, but new tears began to fall.
"Today, I'll tell you."
Tang Hao took a deep breath, his chest heaving violently.
The air he inhaled swirled in his chest cavity before he exhaled, carrying the metallic taste of blood.
Your mother's Ah Yin.
When Tang Hao uttered the name, the corner of his mouth twitched, as if he were smiling, but it also seemed like he was crying.
"She... is not human."