The Many Faces of Life

"Creak..."

The old wooden door was pulled open from within by Su Yuntao, letting out a groan as though it could no longer bear the strain.

Outside, the villagers and parents who had been waiting for a long time instantly focused their gazes on the Soul Grandmaster from Spirit Hall. Their eyes held a mixture of nervousness, anticipation, and a faint, barely noticeable humility.

Warm sunlight rushed into the dim wooden hut, dispelling some of the chill, yet it could not brighten Ning Chuan's cold heart at that moment.

Holding his younger sister Ning Xiaohe's hand, Ning Chuan stood in the shadows inside the house and listened to Su Yuntao's official, utterly emotionless announcement from outside.

"Holy Soul Village's Martial Soul Awakening Ceremony for this year is complete. Nine people awakened in total. Of them, one possesses Soul Power."

The moment those words were spoken, suppressed commotion and cries erupted outside!

Soul Power!

That meant Holy Soul Village would have another Lord Soul Master this year!

Whose child was it?

A flush of excitement instantly rose on Old Jack's face. He unconsciously straightened his back, as if he had already seen the hope of Holy Soul Village reclaiming its former glory.

However, Su Yuntao's next words were like a bucket of ice water, dousing most of their enthusiasm.

"Tang San. Martial Soul: Blue Silver Grass. Innate Full Soul Power."

"What—?!" The crowd exploded completely!

"Innate Full Soul Power?! Good heavens! That's the greatest talent spoken of only in legends!"

"But... Blue Silver Grass? How could it be Blue Silver Grass? This..."

"What a pity! Such a terrible pity! Full Soul Power paired with a useless Martial Soul... What kind of cruel joke is this?!"

Astonishment, regret, disbelief, and even a trace of absurdity spread through the crowd.

Everyone's complicated gazes fell upon the black-haired boy who silently walked out of the house, stood in a corner, and lowered his head.

The blacksmith Tang Hao's son was such a strange combination of genius... and trash?

The excitement on Old Jack's face froze, replaced by deep regret and heartache. He hurried over to Tang San, his lips trembling as though he wanted to say something, yet he did not know where to begin.

Su Yuntao ignored the villagers' reactions and continued reading the remaining names in his swift, indifferent tone.

"Ning Chuan. Martial Soul: Blue Silver Grass. No Soul Power."

"Ning Xiaohe. Martial Soul: Glowing Grass. No Soul Power."

"Wang Ergou. Martial Soul: Sickle. No Soul Power."

"...The remaining eight all possess no Soul Power and cannot become Soul Masters."

The announcement of those final names barely stirred the crowd at all.

Everyone was still reeling from the shocking news of "Innate Full Soul Power, Blue Silver Grass."

As for children like Ning Chuan, destined for an ordinary life, the villagers merely cast them brief glances. There might have been a trace of sympathy in those looks, but there was more indifference, as if this was only natural, and a swift categorization that placed them among their own kind.

After all, this was the normal state of the vast majority of people in Holy Soul Village, and even across the entire continent.

Listening to the contrast between the admiration Tang San inspired outside and the silence brought by himself and the others, Ning Chuan felt a profound sense of helplessness clutch his heart.

Sunlight streamed through the doorway, drawing a long boundary of light and shadow across the ground. Ning Chuan stood in the shadow within that line, as though he had been isolated in another world.

A world where bloodlines and Martial Souls decided everything.

Without Soul Power, one lost the key to strength, status, and even dignity. One would be doomed to struggle at the very bottom of this continent, repeating a life spent bent over the soil, or becoming an unremarkable nobody in the city—perhaps even an ant to be exploited at will in the eyes of nobles and Soul Masters.

For a modern soul from an age of exploding information, where at least in theory everyone possessed limitless possibilities, such naked shackles of fate determined at birth were unbearably cruel and suffocating.

Ning Chuan had seen the light—the kind of light where, at least in theory, everyone had a chance to change their fate through hard work. Even if that light was sometimes false, there was still something to hope for.

But here, without Soul Power, even the right to strive had been taken away.

"Xiaochuan, Xiaohe."

A low yet familiar call pulled Ning Chuan back from his cold thoughts.

He looked up and saw that Ning Dazhuang and Liu Lan had somehow squeezed through the crowd and arrived beside them.

Liu Lan crouched down and gently pulled Ning Xiaohe, whose eyes were red as she held back her tears, into her embrace. Her rough but warm palm stroked the back of her daughter's head. Her voice was so gentle that she hardly sounded like her usual fiery farmwife. "Good girl, don't cry, don't cry. It's all right, it's all right. So what if you can't become a Soul Master? Your father and I aren't Soul Masters either, and haven't we still lived just fine? As long as we're safe and well..."

Liu Lan tried to sound relaxed, but the fleeting disappointment and heartache deep in her eyes did not escape Ning Chuan's notice.

What parent had never held even the smallest hope for their child? Even if that hope was as faint as a spark.

Ning Dazhuang stood before Ning Chuan. This honest man, usually quiet and constantly ordered around by his wife, did not show much disappointment on his face now. Instead, there was a solid calmness.

He stretched out a broad, rough hand covered in calluses and scratches from wood shavings, then heavily patted Ning Chuan's shoulder.

That hand was strong enough to make Ning Chuan sway slightly, yet it strangely brought him a sense of security.

"It's all right, son." Ning Dazhuang's voice was not loud and was even a little hoarse, yet it carried unquestionable certainty. "Our old Ning Family has been made up of ordinary people for generations. Haven't we gotten by just fine? As long as you've got strength, you won't starve. In the future, learn carpentry from your father. At least it's a trade that puts food on the table. There's nothing shameful about that."

There was no blame, no lamentation—only the simplest acceptance and the most practical arrangement.

Looking into his father's eyes, filled with pure and unfeigned concern, and at his mother trying so hard to comfort his sister, the cold resentment and unwillingness that had risen in Ning Chuan's heart after his failed Martial Soul Awakening quietly melted a little.

That was right. In this world, he was not completely without anything.

At the very least, he still had this simple, heartfelt family bond as a harbor.

Just then, Su Yuntao had already packed everything away. After briefly giving Old Jack a few instructions, he vanished in several swift leaps toward the village entrance beneath the respectful yet complicated gazes of the villagers, hurrying off to meet his goddess.

With the main character gone, the villagers gradually dispersed. Their discussions still revolved around Tang San, that exceptional case.

No one spared Ning Chuan and his sister another glance, as though they were merely the most inconspicuous background figures in this annual drama.

Old Jack sighed and walked over to Ning Dazhuang's family. Looking at Ning Chuan with his head lowered and Ning Xiaohe sobbing in Liu Lan's arms, the old man forced out a consoling smile. "Dazhuang, Liu Lan, take the children home. Life has to go on. They're still young. There's a long road ahead of them."

"Yeah, we understand, Village Chief," Ning Dazhuang replied in a muffled voice.

Liu Lan rose while holding Ning Xiaohe and nodded to the village chief.

The family of four silently headed toward their own shabby wooden house.

The road home seemed far heavier than it had on the way there.

Ning Xiaohe seemed to have cried herself tired. She lay on her mother's shoulder, sniffling softly.

Neither Liu Lan nor Ning Dazhuang spoke again. They simply walked in silence.

Ning Chuan followed behind his parents with his head lowered, his unfocused gaze resting on the uneven dirt road beneath his feet.

His right hand unconsciously clenched slightly. He still had a chance. The Heavens Trash Recycling Station was his chance to defy fate and change his life.