Tang San truly had not expected his father to have such an astonishing identity.
"It's true..."
Seeing the disbelief on Tang San's face, Yu Xiaogang finally knew that Tang San genuinely knew nothing about Tang Hao's past.
"Back then, your father had a conflict with Spirit Hall... I don't know what caused it, and your father never told anyone. All I know is that after that battle, he gravely wounded Qian Xunji, the previous Pope of Spirit Hall, then took you into hiding in Holy Soul Village. He concealed his name and became a blacksmith."
Tang San stood frozen. His lips moved for a long time, but he could not utter a word.
Holy Soul Village. The forge. His father's back as he swung a hammer day after day. Those eyes, forever bloodshot, clouded, and numb.
Since childhood, he had thought his father was simply broken, simply a drunkard, simply unwilling to look at him.
Only now did he realize how much lay behind it all.
"Your Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul came from your mother." Yu Xiaogang's voice grew softer. "Your father never told me about her. I only know she's gone. He never told you any of this because he didn't want you to grow up burdened by hatred."
Tang San lowered his head and looked at his hands.
A tender shoot of Blue Silver Grass curled around the fingers of one hand. In the other, the dark, spectral form of the Clear Sky Hammer slowly appeared. Both Martial Souls rested in his palms at once.
It suddenly felt absurd. He had spent so many years hating that drunken father of his—hating how he had neglected him since childhood, hating how he would not even look him in the eye.
Yes, Tang San had always harbored resentment toward