"My Martial Soul... is the Clear Sky Hammer?"
Wait!
Tang San suddenly remembered. Did that mean his father had the Clear Sky Hammer too?!
Dad had said he inherited Blue Silver Grass from his mother. The Clear Sky Hammer must have come from his father.
"My... dad has the Clear Sky Hammer?"
"How is that possible?"
He couldn't make sense of it. His brow furrowed in disbelief, his eyes full of shock.
"Isn't the Clear Sky Hammer the world's strongest tool Martial Soul?"
"My father's just an ordinary blacksmith!"
Yu Xiaogang didn't answer. His gaze grew distant.
"Little Three, do you know who killed Spirit Hall's previous pope?"
Of course Tang San knew. Hardly anyone on the continent didn't.
"It was a Titled Douluo called Clear Sky. His name was Tang... Hao..."
His voice trailed off.
That's... my father...
He had heard of Clear Sky Douluo. He knew his name was Tang Hao. But he could never connect him to his own father, a poor, drunken blacksmith from a mountain village.
That's my father?
No. If it really was Dad, how could he let Grandpa Village Chief kick him without fighting back?
Shouldn't he have killed Grandpa Village Chief?
Back then, Old Jack had brought Tang San freshly steamed buns. White-flour buns were something only well-off families in Holy Soul Village could afford.
Old Jack had brought them over while they were still hot, but Tang San was out training. Tang Hao was home alone, and the house Old Jack had cleaned just two days earlier was already a complete mess.
Tang Hao lay on the floor like a dead dog, reeking of alcohol. Cheap liquor had spilled everywhere. It was summer, and he hadn't bathed in days. He stank of sweat, and his greasy hair hung in clumps.
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