A Proposal to Learn Forging, the First Signs of Dominance!

Aolai City's dusk always carried an inescapable briny stench.

As the weathered wooden door was pushed open, the aroma of food rushed over them.

Tang Ziran sat at the table, not having turned a single page of the old newspaper in his hands for ages;

Lang Yue was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, the sound of her knife hitting the cutting board somewhat erratic.

At the sound of the door opening, both of them practically sprang up.

"Dad, Mom, we're back."

Tang Linyuan's voice remained calm.

He shifted half a step sideways, quietly shielding Tang Wulin behind him and blocking his parents' gazes, full of both anticipation and concern.

But Tang Wulin behind him could not hide his feelings. He lowered his head and nervously scuffed the floor with his toes like a child who had done something wrong.

"How did it go?" Lang Yue wiped her hands haphazardly on her apron, her voice tight.

Tang Linyuan raised his head, his gaze so steady that he did not seem like a child. "I have Innate Full Soul Power, and my Martial Soul is a spear."

Tang Ziran abruptly rose to his feet. The wild joy in his eyes had not even had time to burst forth before he heard the next sentence.

"Wulin... Blue Silver Grass, third-rank Soul Power."

It was as if all the air had suddenly been sucked away.

The newspaper slipped from Tang Ziran's hand to the floor, and the smile on Lang Yue's face froze for an instant.

That deathly silence was like a dull blade cutting into Tang Wulin's heart.

He finally could not hold it in any longer. His shoulders shook as tears plopped onto the floor.

"Dad, Mom... I'm sorry..."

"Silly child!"

A low shout shattered the silence.

Tang Ziran strode forward and swept the skinny Tang Wulin into his arms, holding him tightly, as if he wanted to knead his own strength into his son's body.

"What are you apologizing for? Awakening Soul Power, even if it's only first-rank, makes you a Soul Master! You're far stronger than your father, who's worked on Mecha his whole life without ever awakening Soul Power!"

The usually taciturn man had reddened eyes now, his voice rough yet resolute. "What's wrong with Blue Silver Grass? As long as you're willing to train, even grass can strangle a tree!"

Lang Yue crouched down as well, pulling both children into her arms with aching tenderness, tears glimmering in her eyes.

"That's right. Our family has produced one child with Innate Full Soul Power and another Soul Master. This is a tremendous blessing. Tonight, you can have all the braised pork you want!"

Tang Wulin froze in his father's embrace, feeling the scorching warmth beneath those rough clothes. The ice in his heart melted completely in an instant.

"Dad, Mom, there's something I want to discuss."

At the dinner table, Tang Linyuan set down his completely empty third bowl of rice. His chopsticks rested against its rim with a crisp sound.

Tang Ziran looked at his eldest son, always feeling a kind of pressure from him that he normally only felt when facing his superiors.

This child's gaze was too deep, far too deep for a six-year-old.

"I want to take Wulin to learn forging," Tang Linyuan said bluntly.

"Forging?" Tang Ziran was stunned. "Isn't that too early? It's hard labor, and it's exhausting..."

"Dad, look at this."

Tang Linyuan did not explain. He merely extended his pale little hand, gripped the solid wooden table leg at the corner, and suddenly tightened all five fingers.

Crack—

The hard old oak let out a mournful groan. He had actually crushed five clear finger marks into it, wood chips falling in a flutter.

Tang Ziran sucked in a cold breath.

"Innate Full Soul Power brings more than just Soul Power. It also strengthens the body. And besides..."

Tang Linyuan pointed at Tang Wulin, who was still eating with his head lowered, then at the stack of empty bowls before himself.

"We're both going to eat more and more in the future. This family's wages can't support two Soul Masters."

His words were blunt, harsh even, but utterly realistic.

Scholars were raised in poverty, warriors in wealth. The path of a Soul Master was built with money.

The Golden Dragon King bloodline was a bottomless pit. Tang Linyuan understood that better than anyone.

Rather than wait until the family could no longer afford food, they might as well take the initiative.

"I want to give it a try. We'll go to Uncle Mang Tian's Forging Room."

A sharp glint flashed through Tang Linyuan's eyes.

"I have strength, and Wulin has endurance. Rather than let him feel inferior because of his Martial Soul, it would be better to let him wield a hammer and forge his confidence bit by bit."

Tang Ziran remained silent for a long time. Looking at his two sons' young yet resolute faces, he finally let out a long sigh and nodded.

"Fine. I'll take you there after school tomorrow."

The next day, Red Mountain Academy.

Mornings at the junior Soul Master Academy were always noisy.

For children born into commoner families, this was their only ivory tower.

But even ivory towers had social classes.

Inside the Grade One Class One classroom, whispers buzzed like flies as gazes, intentional or otherwise, drifted toward the brothers in the corner.

"Hey, did you hear? That Tang Wulin who looks like a porcelain doll has the useless Martial Soul, Blue Silver Grass."

At the back, a stocky little fat boy was shouting loudly. He was one of the few children in the class with a one-ring Soul Master relative and carried himself with a natural sense of superiority.

"What a waste of that face." The little fat boy deliberately kicked the chair at the desk in front of him, which was Tang Wulin's seat. "Hey, you over there who grows grass. If you can't afford food someday, you can come pull weeds in my backyard. I'll pay you."

A burst of malicious laughter erupted around them.

Tang Wulin's face went pale. He bit his lower lip, his nails digging deeply into his flesh.

He wanted to argue, but the words "Blue Silver Grass" were like a mountain pressing down on him, leaving him unable to open his mouth.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor rang out abruptly.

It was soft and slow, yet especially piercing amid the laughter.

Tang Linyuan stood up.

He did not roar or slam the table. He merely smoothed his slightly wrinkled cuff, then turned and walked step by step toward the little fat boy.

His steps were steady. Every step seemed to fall upon the rhythm of everyone's heartbeat.

The laughter in the classroom inexplicably stopped.

The children felt an indescribable chill, an instinctive terror as if they had been watched by some apex predator.

Tang Linyuan stopped before the little fat boy's desk.

He did not strike him. He only bent forward slightly and planted both hands on either side of the desk, enclosing the little fat boy within his shadow. Those ink-dark eyes held no emotion whatsoever, only a deathly black void.

"What's your name?" Tang Linyuan asked, his voice gentle, as though greeting an old friend.

"Wan... Wan Yunchao." The little fat boy stammered. To his horror, he discovered that he could not move at all. His legs were shaking wildly.

"Very good, Wan Yunchao."

Tang Linyuan reached out and gently straightened his crooked tie, his movements as elegant as those of a little gentleman.

"Remember two things."

"First, Blue Silver Grass is not a useless Martial Soul, just as having a head does not necessarily mean you know how to use it."

"Second."

Tang Linyuan's finger slid down from the tie and lightly tapped Wan Yunchao's chest.

In that instant, a blade-sharp killing intent, directed solely at Wan Yunchao, erupted violently!

Wan Yunchao's vision went dark. It was as if he saw a black Dragon opening its bloody maw. That terrifying dragon's might blanked his mind and nearly stopped his heart.

"If I hear one more word, I'll knock out your teeth one by one."

Tang Linyuan whispered in his ear like a demon's murmur.

"Do you understand?"

"Waaah—!"

Wan Yunchao finally broke down. His eyes rolled back, and he actually wet his pants from fright before bursting into loud sobs.

The classroom fell deathly silent.

Tang Linyuan straightened up, the black mist in his eyes vanishing instantly.

He could not even be bothered to look at the fool collapsed on the floor again. He took out a handkerchief, unhurriedly wiped the fingers that had touched Wan Yunchao, then casually tossed it into the trash.

"Wulin, sit properly. Class is about to begin."

He returned to his seat, his tone as indifferent as though he had merely swatted a mosquito.

Tang Wulin looked at his brother's back, the admiration in his eyes nearly becoming tangible.

For the first time, he learned that there was no need to throw a punch. A single look alone could make others fear you.

When their homeroom teacher, Lin Ximeng, entered the classroom, she was astonished to find that the discipline today was absurdly good.

Especially Wan Yunchao, the most troublesome child in the back row. He was currently curled up in the corner, trembling, while the entire class deliberately or inadvertently avoided looking at the black-haired boy sitting by the window and reading quietly.

That was the day Grade One Class One of Red Mountain Academy established its "throne."

Not through fighting, but through that dominance carved into his bones.