Yu Xiaogang followed his gaze.
A clean-cut, ordinary-looking child of about six was walking toward them.
Su Mo.
Yu Xiaogang froze.
Master?
Tang San had called him Master?
Before he could recover from the shock, Tang San had already hurried over to Su Mo, taking the things from his hands and fussing over him like a little page. "Master, are you tired? Would you like some water? I've got some food here too..."
Su Mo waved him off. His gaze swept over Yu Xiaogang, who was frozen in place, and he casually asked Tang San, "Who's this?"
Tang San scratched his head and thought for a while before answering, "I don't know. He came over and started telling me all sorts of things about Martial Souls. Said he wanted to be my teacher."
Su Mo raised an eyebrow and looked at Yu Xiaogang.
Yu Xiaogang's expression had already changed.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but his mind was a tangled mess.
Tang San?
The disciple he had clung to through both his lives, the future Sea God, was actually calling a six-year-old child Master?
And doing it so willingly, so eagerly?
He hadn't even been this attentive to his proper master!
Yu Xiaogang felt like he'd been NTR'd.
He felt his whole worldview crumbling.
He forced out a strained smile, trying to salvage the situation. "You're... you're a Soul Master too, young man?"
Su Mo glanced at him.
The man was plainly dressed, with a sour, pedantic air about him. His eyes brimmed with the confidence of someone thinking, "I'm amazing," but his Soul Power... was pitifully weak.
He nodded. "Yes."
Yu Xiaogang continued, "What do you teach him?"
Su Mo thought for a moment. "Reading."
"..."
Yu Xiaogang was speechless, nearly choking on his own breath.
Reading?
That was it?
He took a deep breath and turned to Tang San, his voice edged with urgency. "Young man, you need to think this through. What can you learn from reading? True Martial Soul Theory, the true path of cultivation—only I can teach you those things!"
Tang San looked at him, a strange look in his eyes.
Then he spoke.
"You make a pretty good point."
Yu Xiaogang brightened. There was hope!
Tang San continued, "But—"
Yu Xiaogang's smile froze.
"Everything you just said, my master already taught me the night I became his disciple." Tang San counted on his fingers. "The vitality of Blue Silver Grass, how it needs a compatible Soul Ring, how choosing one carelessly can ruin your foundation—Master taught me all of that ages ago."
Yu Xiaogang's mouth opened and closed.
Tang San continued, "Besides, my master tells me stories about protagonists. Xiao Yan, Sun Wukong, Nezha... They all turned the tables in the face of adversity and became great figures in the end!"
His eyes lit up. "And I'm going to be a protagonist too!"
Yu Xiaogang's mind completely crashed.
A protagonist?
What protagonist?
Who was Xiao Yan? Who was Sun Wukong? Who was Nezha?
He looked at Tang San's adoring face, then at the calm expression of the six-year-old beside him.
A burst of Evil Fire shot up inside him.
He was the mighty Grandmaster, the foremost authority on Martial Soul Theory, the man who had cultivated a god in his previous life—
And he'd been bested by a six-year-old brat?
By some guy whose only advice was to "read"?
He couldn't swallow this.
He forced a cold sneer. "Heh. You've got quite the mouth on you, young man."
Su Mo raised an eyebrow.
Yu Xiaogang clasped his hands behind his back, doing his best to strike the pose of a superior expert. "You're only six. What could you possibly teach him? Reading? Is that cultivation? Is that teaching?"
The more he spoke, the more fired up he became, and his voice grew louder. "I, Yu Xiaogang, have devoted decades to studying Martial Soul Theory. I've traveled across the continent and written books. Who in the Soul Master World hasn't heard of my title, 'Grandmaster'? You're a mere child who's barely out of diapers. What makes you think you can compare yourself to me?"
Su Mo fell silent.
He stared at Yu Xiaogang for three seconds.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't a polite smile. It was the kind of smile that said, "Are you kidding me?"
He'd looked down on Yu Xiaogang in his previous life too.
"Grandmaster of Martial Soul Theory?"
Su Mo's voice wasn't loud, but every word came through clearly.
"You're nothing but a fraud who's fooled the world. What gives you the right to call yourself a Grandmaster?"
"What did you say? You're just a little brat. What right do you have to question me?!"
Su Mo spoke at an unhurried pace. "Is that so? Then tell me—"
He looked Yu Xiaogang up and down, undisguised contempt in his eyes.
"With a pig that can only fart for a Martial Soul and a cultivation level of twenty-nine, you'd probably die if you ran into a Hundred-Year Soul Beast."
He paused, then smiled faintly.
"How did you come up with all those high-level theories?"
Yu Xiaogang's breath caught.
The people around them began whispering among themselves.
"I..."
Yu Xiaogang opened his mouth to argue, but it felt as if his throat were stuffed with cotton.
What could he say?
That all his theories were cobbled together from other people's work?
That he couldn't even defeat a Hundred-Year Soul Beast?
That his Martial Soul, Luo Sanpao, had to work itself up for ages just to fart?
Su Mo looked at him in that state and shook his head.
"But there is one thing I can't compete with you in."
Yu Xiaogang froze.
What did he mean?
Was the kid backing down?
He puffed out his chest and put on a smug expression. "What? If you have something good to say, I might consider taking you as my disciple too."
Su Mo smiled.
It was a particularly sincere smile.
"Your age."
Yu Xiaogang: "...What?"
Su Mo counted on his fingers. "Look, you only have level twenty-nine Soul Power, yet you've broken through to fifty years old. That kind of 'talent' is truly beyond me."
The crowd fell silent for a second.
Then—
"Pfft—"
Someone couldn't hold back a laugh.
Then a second person, then a third.
The crowd burst into uproarious laughter.
"Hahahaha! He broke through to fifty at level twenty-nine!"
"That talent really is beyond compare!"
Yu Xiaogang's face went from red to purple, then purple to green, before finally turning black as the bottom of a pot.
He took several deep breaths and forced himself to calm down, his eyes full of disdain.
"Hmph. I can't be bothered to argue with you."
With that, he turned to Tang San, his tone suddenly earnest.
"Xiao San, don't listen to his nonsense. This fellow is just jealous of my talent."
Tang San blinked.
What talent?
Still, curiosity got the better of him, and he asked, "Is your Martial Soul really a pig?"
Yu Xiaogang finally lost his composure.
His face flushed red in an instant, and he stood rigidly in place like he'd been struck by lightning.
This had always been the deepest thorn in his heart.
He came from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, yet his Innate Soul Power was only half a level.
And his Martial Soul wasn't the noble Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon. It was an ugly pig.
It was laughable.
He called himself a Grandmaster of Martial Soul Theory, yet couldn't even figure out why his own Martial Soul could only fart.
If he'd given Luo Sanpao a Dragon-type Soul Ring, perhaps there'd have been a chance of awakening the Golden Sacred Dragon bloodline.
At the very least, he wouldn't have ended up with two farting Soul Skills.
But he hadn't.
He'd figured out nothing.
The laughter around them grew even louder.
Tang San asked with utter sincerity, "So your Martial Soul really is a pig? Then how can you have the nerve to call other people's Martial Souls trash?"