No matter who destroyed Holy Soul Village, I will make them pay the price!

Her ponytail whipped in the morning breeze, her footsteps hurried and erratic as she chased after the direction Tang San had left, disappearing around the bend of the dirt road.

Ma Hongjun stood where he was; the pain in his shoulders had faded, but a stifling, indescribable sensation weighed on his chest.

He gritted his teeth and lowered his voice.

"I didn't know Holy Soul Village had anything to do with Tang San! Besides, why take it out on me? If you've got the guts, go take revenge on the people who wiped out Holy Soul Village!"

By the end, his tone was laced with the irritation of someone caught in a shameful situation.

Having been scolded by Xiao Wu in front of everyone, he couldn't save face, and even his way of addressing Tang San had shifted to his full name; the "Brother San" he usually used was nowhere to be heard.

"That's enough, Fatty, keep it down."

Dai Mubai had been standing to the side in silence, only speaking up at this moment.

He stepped forward and gave Ma Hongjun a heavy pat on the back—the force wasn't great, but it carried an unmistakable air of authority.

"You've been tired all night, go back and get some sleep."

Dai Mubai tilted his head toward the direction of the dorms, his tone as indifferent as if nothing had happened at all.

"But—"

Ma Hongjun wanted to say something more.

"Go back to sleep."

Dai Mubai repeated himself, his gaze lingering on Ma Hongjun's face for a moment this time.

Ma Hongjun opened his mouth, but in the end, he didn't say anything else; he lowered his head sullenly and walked toward the dorms.

Xiao Wu chased for nearly a mile along the dirt road outside the village before she finally caught sight of Tang San.

He had stopped.

He was under an old, crooked tree by the side of the road.

Tang San stood with his back to her, one hand braced against the trunk, his shoulders trembling slightly.

The morning wind blew from behind him, plastering his messy hair against his cheeks and making his robes snap in the air.

He wasn't crying, but Xiao Wu could see the hand he had pressed against the bark; his five fingers were digging into the wood inch by inch, and shards of bark fell in a rustle from between his fingertips.

"Brother San."

Xiao Wu quickened her pace and called out softly.

She stopped two steps behind Tang San, not daring to rush forward.

Her breathing was still a bit ragged, her chest rising and falling slightly, but her voice was very light, as if she were afraid of startling him.

When Tang San heard her voice, his spine visibly stiffened.

He took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

Tang San tried to pull at the corners of his mouth, forcing a smile as calm and composed as usual, but the expression was so strained that it looked more like a grimace of pain.

"Xiao Wu."

His voice was so hoarse he barely recognized it himself.

Watching him like this, Xiao Wu felt as if something had given her heart a sharp, painful tug.

She didn't speak; she simply walked quickly to his side.

She didn't ask where he was going, didn't ask what he intended to do, and didn't even offer any words of comfort.

She just stood to his left, shoulder to shoulder with him.

"Let me walk with you, Brother San."

Xiao Wu tilted her head slightly to look up at him, the sunlight dancing in her lively eyes, making them exceptionally bright.

"If there's anything you want to say, just tell me."

Tang San's expression faltered.

He looked down at Xiao Wu's earnest face, at those clear eyes watching him without blinking, containing nothing but sincerity.

There was no pity, no sympathy—only pure concern and a firmness that could not be refused.

Such a gaze caused the heartstrings he had kept taut the entire way to suddenly loosen.

"Xiao Wu..."

He whispered her name, his voice thick with hoarseness and an undisguisable touch of emotion.

On this dirt road that seemed to have no end, at the very moment he needed someone to stand by his side the most, Xiao Wu had come.

She hadn't asked where he was going or what he planned to do; she had simply walked quietly to his side, just as she had countless times before.

Tang San was silent for a while, then slowly began to speak.

His voice was very low, as if he were talking to himself.

"I'm worried about Dad."

Xiao Wu looked up at him and said softly.

"When we returned to Holy Soul Village three years ago, hadn't your father already left? We only saw the letter he left behind. Therefore, he isn't necessarily in any life-threatening danger."

Tang San did not answer immediately.

He knew that what Xiao Wu said made sense.

Three years ago, when he and Xiao Wu rushed back to Holy Soul Village together, all that greeted him was an empty blacksmith shop and a letter pressed under an anvil.

His father had been very brief in that letter.

He had left, telling Tang San to go out into the world on his own and not to look for him.

At the time, he hadn't understood, and had even felt some resentment, unable to fathom why his father would disappear for no reason.

But now, he felt inexplicably relieved.

Precisely because his father had left Holy Soul Village three years ago, there was a high probability that he was still alive.

However—

"I hope everything is as you say, Xiao Wu."

Tang San forced himself to perk up a little, offering Xiao Wu a smile that looked somewhat normal.

But that smile did not last long.

His lips slowly pressed together, and the light in his eyes dimmed once more.

"But... Old Jack and the others..."

His voice turned low, and he had to use great effort to squeeze every word out of his chest.

Faces uncontrollably surfaced before his eyes.

The way Old Jack the village chief would lean on his cane to bask in the sun at the village entrance, the way the aunt next door would knock on his door with a bowl of hot porridge, the way those bare-bottomed children in the village would crowd around his blacksmith shop to watch the excitement.

Those faces were neither family nor friends, but when he was very, very small, it was these villagers who would give him a mouthful of porridge whenever they had one, and drape an old garment over him whenever they had one to spare.

Perhaps they hadn't been particularly fond of him, the taciturn blacksmith's son, but they had indeed looked after him, in ways that were not even affluent for themselves.

And now, these people were all dead.

All buried beneath that expanse of ruins that had been razed to the ground.

Tang San's fists tightened bit by bit.

His fingernails dug into his palms, deeper than before, and warm liquid seeped out from between his fingers, but he could not feel the pain.

His breathing became rapid, and it felt as if a fire were burning in his chest, scorching his internal organs with pain.

"No matter who destroyed Holy Soul Village—"

He lifted his bloodshot eyes, gazing toward the direction of Holy Soul Village, as if he could pierce through the hundreds of miles of distance to see those ruins, to see that executioner.

The morning light fell upon his face, casting a deathly, unnatural pallor over his young features, yet the thing burning in his eyes was more intense than it had ever been.

"I will find him."

His voice was not loud, but it carried a force that was nearly ironclad.

This was not a harsh word spoken in a fit of impulse, nor was it the reckless oath of a hot-headed youth, but an unshakable resolve that seeped from his very bones.

"And make him pay the price with his life."

Tang San clenched his fists, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.