The Many Faces of Life

"Creak..."

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

Outside, the villagers and parents who had been waiting for a long time instantly fixed their eyes on the Soul Grandmaster from Spirit Hall. Their gazes were mixed with nervousness, anticipation, and a trace of barely perceptible 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.

Ning Chuan held his younger sister Ning Xiaohe's hand as they stood in the shadows inside the house, listening to Su Yuntao's businesslike, emotionless announcement from outside.

"Holy Soul Village's martial soul awakening ceremony for this year has concluded. Nine people awakened their martial souls. Of them, one possesses Soul Power."

The moment those words fell, a wave of barely suppressed commotion and low cries erupted outside!

Soul Power!

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

Whose child could it be?

Village Chief Jack's face instantly flushed with excitement. His back unconsciously straightened, as though he had already glimpsed Holy Soul Village's hope of regaining its former glory.

However, Su Yuntao's next words were like a bucket of icy water, dousing most people's enthusiasm from head to toe.

"Tang San, Blue Silver Grass martial soul, Innate Full Soul Power."

"Wah—!" The crowd completely erupted!

"Innate Full Soul Power?! Heavens! That's the greatest talent of legend!"

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

"What a pity! What 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 looked complicatedly toward the black-haired boy who silently emerged from the house, stood in a corner, and lowered his head.

The son of Tang Hao the blacksmith was such a bizarre combination of genius... and trash?

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

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

"Ning Chuan, Blue Silver Grass martial soul, no Soul Power."

"Ning Xiaohe, Glowing Grass martial soul, no Soul Power."

"Wang Ergou, Sickle martial soul, no Soul Power."

"...The above eight have no Soul Power and cannot become Soul Masters."

The announcement of those final names barely stirred any reaction among the crowd.

Everyone's attention remained fixed on the shocking news of "Innate Full Soul Power, Blue Silver Grass."

As for children like Ning Chuan, who were destined for ordinary lives, the villagers only spared them a brief glance. Perhaps there was a sliver of sympathy in their eyes, but there was more indifference, as if this were only natural, and a swift categorization that placed them among the same kind.

After all, this was the normal state of affairs for most people in Holy Soul Village, and indeed across the entire continent.

Listening to the amazement outside over Tang San and the silence over himself and the others, Ning Chuan felt a deep 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 darkness on one side, as though he had been cut off into another world.

A world where bloodline and martial soul determined everything.

Without Soul Power, one lost the key to strength, status, and even dignity. One could only struggle to survive at the very bottom of this continent, repeating the fate of working the fields from dawn till dusk, becoming an unremarkable mediocrity in some city, or perhaps even falling into the eyes of nobles and Soul Masters as an ant to be exploited at will.

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

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

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 icy thoughts.

He looked up to see that Ning Dazhuang and Liu Lan had somehow already squeezed through the crowd and arrived at their side.

Liu Lan crouched down and gently drew Ning Xiaohe, whose eyes were red as she fought back tears, into her embrace. Her rough yet warm palm stroked the back of her daughter's head. Her voice was so gentle that she sounded nothing like the fiery farmwife she usually was. "Good girl, don't cry, don't cry. It's fine, it's all right. Not becoming a Soul Master is no big deal. Look at your father and me—we aren't Soul Masters either, but haven't we lived just fine? As long as we're safe and sound..."

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 slightest 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 often ordered about by his wife, did not show much disappointment on his face at that moment. Instead, he wore a certain solid calmness.

He stretched out his broad, rough hand, covered in calluses and scars from wood splinters, and heavily patted Ning Chuan's shoulder.

That palm was powerful enough to make Ning Chuan's body sway slightly, yet it strangely gave him a sense of reassurance.

"It's all right, son." Ning Dazhuang's voice was low and somewhat dry, but it carried an unquestionable certainty. "Our Ning Family has been ordinary folk for generations, and haven't we gotten by just fine? As long as you've got strength, you won't starve. Later, learn carpentry from your father. It's a trade that puts food on the table. Nothing shameful about it."

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

Looking into his father's pure, unfeigned concern and at his mother's efforts to comfort his sister, the cold unwillingness and resentment 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 did not have nothing.

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

At that moment, Su Yuntao had already finished packing. After briefly giving Village Chief Jack a few instructions, he sprang away under the reverent yet complicated gazes of the villagers and quickly vanished in the direction of the village entrance, rushing off to meet his goddess.

The main character had left, and the villagers gradually dispersed. The center of their discussions remained Tang San, that exceptional case.

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

Village Chief 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 a comforting smile onto his aged face. "Dazhuang, Liu Lan, take the children home. Life has to go on. They're still young. The road ahead is long."

"Yes, understood, Village Chief," Ning Dazhuang replied in a muffled voice.

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

The family of four silently headed toward their simple wooden hut.

The road home seemed far heavier than the road there had been.

Ning Xiaohe seemed to have cried herself tired and lay against her mother's shoulder, sobbing softly.

Liu Lan and Ning Dazhuang said nothing more, merely walking 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.