Premonition Becomes Reality

Lin Qingzhou carefully placed the crooked, handmade hammer into the innermost layer of his toolbox, covered it with a clean rag, and only then straightened his back.

He stretched his stiff shoulders, walked over to the water dispenser in the corner to fill a cup, and downed it in a few gulps.

The icy liquid slid down his throat, finally extinguishing the surging restlessness in his chest.

Tang Wulin had left.

The protagonist who would one day stand at the pinnacle of the continent and stir the winds and clouds of an entire era had just been standing right here, smiling at him with that simple, honest look, gifting him a handmade hammer with uneven welds.

And what about him? He had felt jealousy, and he had deliberately kept his distance, yet in the end, he still found himself murmuring "be careful on the road" as Tang Wulin turned to leave.

When it came down to it, Lin Qingzhou was just a man with a sharp tongue but a soft heart. Much like Mang Tian.

Thinking of this, he let out a self-deprecating laugh, tossed the empty paper cup into the trash, and walked back to the workbench.

There was still plenty of work left; the batch of Grain Dryer Drive Shafts that Mang Tian had accepted had absurdly high precision requirements, and he still had to finish at least three finished pieces by the afternoon.

He picked up his hammer, aimed at the rough drive shaft blank on the anvil, took a deep breath, and struck.

"Clang!"

Sparks flew in every direction.

This time, he didn't let his mind wander to those messy thoughts.

Whatever Tang the Great God King, whatever the final fusion of Gu Yuena, whatever Tang Wulin's impending journey—he shoved them all into the deepest recesses of his mind.

Right now, all he could do was ensure every strike landed true, every piece of work was done beautifully, and that he got through today safely.

He hammered for two hours straight.

All three drive shafts were completed, with precision errors controlled within zero point zero three millimeters—even higher than the order required.

He measured them three times with a vernier caliper to confirm there were no errors before putting down his tools and rubbing his sore, swollen wrists.

That bracer was truly useful; despite two hours of continuous hammering, his wrists barely felt numb.

He hesitated, then decided to take the bracer off, wiped the sweat from its surface with a soft cloth, and carefully placed it back in the toolbox. Mang Tian claimed he had just found it, but the thing was worth several hundred Federation Currency; he couldn't bear to wear it every day.

The electronic clock on the wall ticked to ten-thirty in the morning. Lin Qingzhou wiped his face with a rag and was just about to move the finished products to the warehouse when he heard a muffled thud from outside.

The sound was deep and distant, as if someone had detonated something far away; passing through the thick walls, it sounded like nothing more than a faint, muffled roll of thunder.

Lin Qingzhou assumed it was a construction site doing some blasting and didn't pay it much mind, bending over to pick up the drive shafts.

Immediately after, a second muffled thud followed. This one was closer, and the concrete floor beneath his feet trembled slightly.

Lin Qingzhou straightened up, his brow furrowing. He had lived in this world for so many years and had never heard a sound like that.

It wasn't construction blasting, nor was it thunder—the sound carried an indescribable, sinister chill, as if something were tearing the very air itself.

He walked quickly to the window and pulled back the blinds to look outside.

The street was as normal as ever; pedestrians walked in twos and threes, the owner of the breakfast shop was moving steamer baskets to her doorway, and the old man from the grocery store next door was sitting at his entrance reading a newspaper. There was nothing unusual.

Yet, his heart tightened for no reason.

He turned off the forge and headed toward the door.

"Bang!"

A bloody hand slammed against the glass door, leaving a crimson palm print. A man covered in blood was slumped against the door, his face pressed against the glass, his features twisted in extreme terror.

He pounded on the door desperately, his voice so hoarse it was barely audible: "Open the door! Open the door! Evil Soul Masters! The Evil Soul Masters are here!"

Lin Qingzhou's pupils contracted sharply.

He instinctively took a step back. Evil Soul Masters.

In the depths of his memory, this term had always been a vague background setting—the villainous group he had read about in novels before he transmigrated, the cause of his parents' deaths when he was young, and a danger he had always deliberately avoided thinking about.

And now, this term was here, covered in blood and terror, pressed against his door, screaming at him with a hoarse throat.

He forced himself to stay calm, rushed forward, and pulled the door open.

The middle-aged man stumbled inside and collapsed on the floor, gasping for air. His left arm was gone, and the stump was still oozing dark red blood.

Lin Qingzhou slammed the door shut, grabbed a roll of industrial-grade bandage from the shelf, and knelt down to dress the wound.

"What's going on? Tell me clearly!"

"A group of Evil Soul Masters... they broke in from the east side of the city." The middle-aged man's lips trembled, his voice fragmented.

"They're killing everyone they see... they used Level 9 Fixed Soul Missiles to blast through the Spirit Pagoda branch's defense system... all the Soul Masters stationed in the city have gone over there, but there are too many of them, and several are at the Soul Saint level."

Another massive explosion occurred, closer than the last, shaking the fluorescent lights on the studio ceiling so violently that several spare steel pipes rolled off the shelves, hitting the floor with a jarring clatter.

Lin Qingzhou's hand shook, and he nearly dropped the bandage. He gritted his teeth, sped up his movements, finished wrapping the wound in a few quick motions, then stood up and walked to the wall to unlock the bottom drawer of his toolbox.

Inside lay a short-handled war hammer, forged entirely from high-strength alloy. The head was a size larger than a standard hammer, and the grip was etched with fine, anti-slip grooves.

This was the first "private project" he had secretly forged from scrap metal; it didn't count as a soul tool.

It didn't even reach the most basic forging grade, but it had the advantage of being heavy and sturdy. He had poured all his innate divine strength into this hammer, striking it blow by blow for an entire night, resulting in a head density several times that of a standard forging hammer.

He weighed the war hammer in his hand, then reached into the drawer's partition and pulled out a palm-sized metal box.

This was a basic Fixed Soul Tool Launcher, capable of loading three standard-caliber Fixed Soul Missiles.

This was a second-hand item Mang Tian had acquired from an old client last year, originally intended to be dismantled to study its internal structure, but Lin Qingzhou had felt it might come in handy and kept it.

Later, while Mang Tian was away, he had secretly used the workshop's equipment to install a crude slot on his warhammer, allowing the launcher to be fixed to the end of the handle.

This modification wasn't exactly high-end technology, but at a critical moment, it might just save his life.

He quickly checked the launcher's magazine; three Fixed Soul Missiles sat neatly inside.

One armor-piercing type, two concussion types. This was his entire life savings.

The ammunition wasn't cheap, costing over a hundred Federation Currency apiece; he had spent months scraping together enough to buy these few, originally intending to use them as a defense against Di Tian.

Although, if it truly came to that, this level of firepower probably wouldn't even graze the hem of Di Tian's robe.

But he couldn't worry about that now.

He pulled the old-fashioned Smart Communicator he had used for years from his pocket and dialed home. It rang three times before connecting.

"Brother?" Na'er's voice came through the receiver, tinged with confusion. She rarely received calls from Lin Qingzhou while he was at the workshop.

"Na'er, listen to me." Lin Qingzhou's voice was low but extremely rapid. "Lock the door, lock all the windows, and draw the curtains. Don't open the door for anyone, no matter who knocks, unless it's me. Do you hear me clearly?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Na'er's voice tightened. "Brother, what happened?"

"An Evil Soul Master has come to the city." Lin Qingzhou didn't hide it from her. "I'm closer to the east side of the city, so I might get caught in the crossfire. Hide yourself, and I'll be back to find you soon."

"Brother! Don't..."