Tang San: You Swim the Shit-Thief's Path

A day passed in the blink of an eye.

Two figures appeared on the dirt road leading to the entrance of Shrek Academy.

They were none other than Tang San and Yu Xiaogang.

Five years had passed, and Tang San had completely shed his short, frail appearance, having grown quite a bit taller.

However, his skin had been tanned to a deep bronze, making him look like a proper little dark-skinned lad.

At this moment, his good master, Yu Xiaogang, was sneaking along behind him.

To be precise, he was following at a forty-five-degree angle to the rear-right of Tang San, maintaining an absolute safety distance of at least three meters between them at all times.

Yu Xiaogang was even clutching a two-meter-long thick wooden club tightly in his hand.

He couldn't be blamed for this; he had truly been traumatized by past experiences.

After the egg-stabbing incident years ago, Yu Xiaogang had set aside his grievances for the sake of his theories, continuing to act as the good teacher in Tang San's eyes.

But fate was cruel; every year, there were always those few hours where Tang San would suffer from terrible luck.

In the first two years, whenever Tang San's bad luck flared up, Yu Xiaogang would try to step forward to show their deep bond as master and disciple.

And the result? His well-intentioned help always ended with him either getting a chamber pot dropped on his head from the sky or being chased for two miles by a rabid stray dog.

If he hadn't already become a eunuch—running faster than a dog now that he was free of that extra baggage—he likely would have been bitten by that mad dog and served as an extra meal.

Yu Xiaogang had learned his lesson and finally developed this "Anti-Explosion Infantry Positioning Method."

As long as Tang San had a streak of bad luck, he would immediately retreat!

Staying outside the three-meter radius, he, Yu Xiaogang, was absolutely safe!

Even though Tang San had wept and sworn a solemn oath to provide for him in his old age, that damned bad luck aura didn't care about the bond between master and disciple.

"Mashter."

Tang San turned his head to speak. As he grinned, his two front teeth were missing, leaving a massive gap that let the wind whistle through, completely distorting his pronunciation.

"I wesh to the forge today and earned three shilver coins. Tomorrow, I'll buy you a roasht chicken to nourishe your body."

He had intended to show his filial piety and respect for his teacher.

But the moment he opened his toothless mouth, combined with that ridiculous accent, he turned a touching scene into a rural comedy.

Three years ago, if anyone dared to provoke him, Tang San would have surely spat out, "You have a path to death."

Nowadays, that phrase rotted and stank in his gut; he wouldn't dare utter a single syllable of it even if it killed him.

Because just last month, he had a conflict with a thug and, trying to act tough, shouted, "You have a path to deash."

The result? The thug stared blankly for three seconds, then laughed so hard he couldn't catch his breath, eventually rolling on the ground clutching his stomach until he actually passed out from laughing, foaming at the mouth, and had to be rushed to the Suotuo City infirmary by passersby.

That Tang San could end up in such a miserable state was entirely thanks to Su Chen.

Sticking to the principle of being a decent person, Su Chen unfailingly renewed a Bad Luck Talisman for Tang San every year.

Once a year, with potent effects.

Choking on water or tripping on flat ground were just appetizers.

While Tang San was forging at the smithy, a hammer had rebounded right into his two front teeth, smashing them into powder on the spot and declaring his retirement from that task.

Yu Xiaogang, gripping his wooden club from three meters away, replied in a sharp, duck-like voice.

"Little San, I am very gratified that you have such a heart."

The master and disciple maintained this bizarre formation as they returned to the village entrance where Shrek Academy was located.

Upon entering the village, both of them stopped in their tracks.

In front of that row of wooden houses that even stray dogs usually avoided, a luxurious building had appeared out of thin air.

"What the hell?"

Tang San rubbed his eyes and pointed forward, his words whistling through the gap in his teeth: "Mashter, what is that thing? Did we walk into the wrong village?"

Yu Xiaogang's features scrunched together.

He stretched his neck to examine it for a long time before pulling out a deduction of extreme confidence: "Little San, do not be deceived by appearances! You and I both know exactly how poor this academy is."

That stingy old ghost Flender wouldn't even replace his shoes for three years; where would he get the spare money to build such a mansion?

Tang San scratched his head: "Then what is going on?"

Yu Xiaogang placed one hand behind his back, striking the arrogant pose of a wise man who saw through everything: "Have you forgotten? These few days are when Shrek Academy recruits new students. It is likely that Flender has set up some facade to put on a show, specifically to fool those naive newcomers."

Having said that, Yu Xiaogang lowered his duck-like voice and instructed: "Little San, you go back to your room to rest. I will go ask them what exactly is going on."

Tang San had a sudden realization, his admiration for his master flowing like a mighty river: "Mashter is wise! Then I will return to the dormitory."

"Go on. Watch your step, and don't break your nose bridge again."

After giving his instructions, Yu Xiaogang turned and walked toward the teacher's dormitory area.

The door to the dilapidated brick house was wide open, and the smell of alcohol was overwhelming.

Zhao Wuji, Li Yusong, and Shao Xin were gathered around a broken wooden table, upon which sat a few plates of shriveled peanuts and some low-quality liquor.

The three of them had downed a few cups of rotgut, their faces flushed and necks thick as they argued about something.

"Ahem!"

Yu Xiaogang cleared his throat, hands clasped behind his back as he strode across the threshold with a pompous, splayed-leg gait.

Seeing him enter, Li Yusong hurriedly greeted him and pulled over a long wooden bench: "Oh, Master, you've come at just the right time. Sit, sit!"

Shao Xin's eyes darted around before he suddenly looked at Yu Xiaogang: "Master, since you're here, we have an academic question we'd like to consult you on."

The moment he heard the word "academic," Yu Xiaogang, who had just sat down, instantly perked up.

He habitually straightened his back and clasped his hands behind him, nailing that inscrutable, masterly air perfectly.

His back no longer ached, his legs no longer hurt, and even the sense of inferiority brought on by his missing "parts" faded significantly.

Li Yusong spoke up: "Master, in the theoretical knowledge you've published, have you ever explicitly stated the specific age limits for a Soul Grandmaster absorbing their second and third soul rings?"

Yu Xiaogang knew this topic too well; he could recite it with his eyes closed.

He shook his head smugly and held up two fingers: "Listen closely."

"Based on my years of deduction regarding the laws of martial soul evolution, as well as comparative analysis of a vast amount of literature."

"The limit for the second soul ring is precisely seven hundred and sixty-four years."

"The limit for the third soul ring is one thousand seven hundred and sixty years."

"One year more, and the soul master's meridians will burst; one year less, and they cannot unleash their maximum potential."

He delivered these words with resounding force; Yu Xiaogang even felt as though a holy light of truth was radiating from the top of his head.

Shao Xin held his half-cup of moonshine, leaned in, and cautiously pressed further: "Then... Master, is there perhaps an extremely minuscule possibility?"

"For instance, a twelve-year-old boy whose second soul ring is a thousand-year one, and whose third soul ring is a ten-thousand-year black ring?"

As soon as the words fell, the air in the room instantly froze.

Yu Xiaogang was stunned for a moment, then flicked his sleeves with an exaggerated motion, nearly tumbling off the rickety bench.

He stood up abruptly, his voice shrill as he shouted his rebuttal.

"Impossible!"

"Absolutely impossible!"

Yu Xiaogang was so agitated he hopped on the spot, spittle flying: "This completely violates the physical limits of a soul master's body! The energy contained within a thousand-year or ten-thousand-year soul ring is simply not something a Soul Grandmaster can withstand!"

"My theory is perfect, it is unassailable! Such a thing has never happened in the history of the entire Douluo Continent, it is not happening now, and it never will!"

Watching Yu Xiaogang's red-faced, frantic appearance, Li Yusong and Shao Xin were momentarily speechless.

They wished they could drag Su Chen over right now, shove his head toward Yu Xiaogang, and make him open his dog eyes wide to take a good look at that pitch-black ten-thousand-year soul ring!

And he dared to say it was absolutely impossible?

Did he really think they were blind?

At this moment, Zhao Wuji, having downed half a pot of rotgut, could finally hold back no longer.

He had never liked this useless eunuch who walked with his legs clamped together and spent his days mooching off others.

Coupled with being rubbed into the dirt by Su Chen during the day and forced to slide-kneel dozens of times, he had a belly full of pent-up rage with nowhere to vent.

Now, with a few cups of rotgut in his system, his explosive temper no longer cared about social graces or saving face.