Returning Home!

Wang Sheng flipped a page of his book, then suddenly looked up and asked, "Boss, hasn't that Grandmaster come looking for you lately?"

Tang San shook his head: "No."

"Strange," Wang Sheng scratched his head, "I thought he would be pestering you non-stop. He used to be so proactive with students who had a bit of talent, practically following them around all day. Now that you have Innate Full Soul Power, he's actually stopped coming?"

Tang San did not answer the question.

Because he himself was wondering—why had Yu Xiaogang been so quiet during this period?

He had even given away the Twenty-Four Moonlit Bridges, a top-tier storage Soul Tool that was priceless and impossible to find. He had handed it over just like that.

According to normal logic, after giving such a massive favor, shouldn't he be showing up every day to make his presence felt?

Unless he was waiting for something.

Tang San couldn't figure it out, so he simply stopped thinking about it.

He picked up the copy of Advanced Plant-Type Martial Souls from his bedside, opened it to where he had last left off, and continued reading.

From Huang Fei's bedding came the sound of steady, rhythmic breathing.

It wasn't an act; he was truly asleep.

Outside the window, the north wind whistled, tearing the last few ginkgo leaves from the branches, swirling them into the air, and then gently letting them fall.

Winter in Nuoding City arrived earlier than in Holy Soul Village, and the sky darkened quickly; it was only evening, yet the sky had already turned mostly dim.

The oil lamp in Dormitory Seven was lit by Wang Sheng, casting an orange glow that blanketed the communal bed.

A few work-study students huddled together whispering, while others had already crawled under their covers.

Tang San read for a while, felt his eyes growing tired, then closed the book and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He turned his head to glance out the window.

In the pitch-black night sky, a few stars had appeared at some point.

They weren't large, but they were bright, twinkling on and off.

Tang San stared at those stars for a moment, and a thought suddenly popped into his mind—when he returned to Holy Soul Village for the break, he would organize everything he had learned during this time.

The circulation of the Mysterious Heaven Skill, the footwork of the Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track, the control techniques for Blue Silver Grass, and the usage of his first soul ring.

He always felt these things were scattered in his mind, not yet strung together into a single line.

He needed to find a time to calm his heart and sort them out clearly.

As for Huang Fei—

Tang San tilted his head to look at the bedding next to him.

Huang Fei had turned over at some point, one arm stretched outside the quilt, revealing the red rope knot on his wrist—that was the Peace Knot that Grandma Jack had woven for each of them before they set off, saying it would bring them good luck while studying away from home.

Tang San tucked his arm back under the quilt and then blew out the oil lamp by the bed.

Dormitory Seven fell into darkness and silence.

Only the sound of Wang Sheng's snoring remained, one beat after another, as steady as a pendulum.

The carriage jolted along the dirt road for an entire day, and finally, at dusk, the silhouette of Holy Soul Village came into view.

Old Jack had received word in advance and was standing at the village entrance waiting early. He wore a cotton-padded jacket washed to a pale white, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his back hunched like an old tree bent by the wind. Seeing the carriage stop, his eyes lit up instantly, and the wrinkles on his face bunched into a flower.

"You're back? It's good that you're back, it's good that you're back." He muttered, his voice trembling, his eyes reddening.

Huang Fei jumped down from the carriage, but his first act wasn't to exchange pleasantries with Old Jack; instead, he turned and hauled a large package from the carriage. The package was sewn from coarse cloth, bulging and looking quite heavy. He shoved the package into Old Jack's arms and brushed the dust off it.

"Grandpa Jack, this is for you."

Old Jack froze for a moment, his hands trembling as he held the package. "Th-this, what is this?"

"Money and supplies." Huang Fei said it nonchalantly, as casually as if he were saying "the weather is nice today." "A bag of Gold Soul Coins, enough for you to live comfortably in the village for a few years. There are also a few bolts of cloth for making cotton jackets in the winter. Plus some supplements; you're getting on in years, you should take care of your health."

Old Jack's hands shook even more violently. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his throat felt blocked by something, and he couldn't make a sound for a long time.

Huang Fei watched him like this, feeling a sting in his heart, but he didn't show it on his face. He patted Old Jack on the shoulder and said like a little adult: "Don't be in such a rush to get emotional; this is just the first installment. There will be more in the future."

Old Jack finally couldn't hold it back, and tears streamed down the wrinkles on his face. He didn't refuse, because he knew this was the child's heartfelt intention. Holding that heavy package, he stood in the twilight at the village entrance, crying like a child.

Tang San watched from the side, his own nose feeling sore. He remembered how Old Jack had borrowed the work-study student quota from the neighboring village, how he had driven the carriage to take them to Nuoding City, and how he had waved goodbye to them at the village entrance with red eyes.

Both he and Huang Fei remembered this kindness.

"Grandpa Jack, we're going in now." Tang San composed his emotions and said with a smile, "I'm taking Xiao Wu to see my home."

Only then did Old Jack notice the little girl standing beside Tang San. Pink clothes, a ponytail, eyes big and bright, she was tilting her head and looking at him with curiosity. Old Jack was stunned for a moment, then broke into a tearful smile: "Good, good, what a pretty lass. Go on, Grandma Jack and I have been cleaning your house regularly, it's not dirty."

Xiao Wu greeted him openly with a "Hello, Grandpa Jack," and then followed behind Tang San.

Huang Fei watched the backs of Tang San and Xiao Wu disappear at the end of the village path, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

The good show was about to begin.

He did not follow, instead turning to walk in the opposite direction.

Behind Holy Soul Village lay a small hillside covered in wildflowers. The view there was expansive, offering a clear sight of the entire village and the fields in the distance. If one stood behind the large tree on the hillside, they could even overlook the path at the foot of the mountain leading to Tang San's home—as well as the small grove behind the mountain.

Huang Fei chose an excellent spot, sitting down in the grass behind the large tree, leaning his back against the trunk and stretching out his legs to find the most comfortable position.

From this vantage point, Tang San's backyard and the small grove behind the mountain were in full view.

He simply waited.

When Tang San pushed open his courtyard gate, a sudden, ominous premonition struck his heart.

The courtyard was far too quiet.

Every time he had returned in the past, he would see his father, Tang Hao, sitting on the threshold drinking, or hear the clanging of iron being forged in the backyard smithy. Even if he wasn't in the yard, there would always be some sound from inside the house—the rustling of items, the sound of footsteps, or simply the noise of snoring.

But now, there was nothing.

The courtyard was as silent as an empty grave.

Tang San hurried into the house, his gaze sweeping across the main room, the kitchen, and the bedroom—there was no one. The stove was cold, the water vat was dry, and even the iron hammer his father never parted with was gone.

Then, he saw the letter on the table.

There was no writing on the envelope, but Tang San recognized the coarse paper—it was the cheapest straw paper his father bought from the general store. He tore open the envelope and pulled out the twice-folded sheet inside; it contained only a few sparse lines, the handwriting as sloppy as if it had been scrawled while in a rush.