Destroy Then Give Hope

The deathly silence in the hall continued.

Tang San lowered his head and looked at his outstretched hands.

The golden veins of the Blue Silver Emperor still flowed through its leaves, while the profound patterns of the Clear Sky Hammer remained as dark as ink. Two supreme martial souls—one inherited from his mother, the other from his father—both gave off a faint glow in his palms.

"System... System..." he called out twice more, unwilling to give up.

There was still no response.

Just then—

The air outside the hall suddenly twisted.

Immediately afterward, two figures appeared out of thin air above the Spirit Hall branch, their robes fluttering as they stood suspended in midair.

Then, in a flash, Tang Ling appeared in the Awakening Hall with Xiao Wu.

"Godfather." Tang San raised his head and spotted Tang Ling and Xiao Wu.

Tang Ling looked down at him. There was not a ripple of emotion in his pitch-black eyes, like a pool of ice that had not melted for a thousand years.

"Hmm?"

"Godfather, my soul power... my soul power..." Tang San gritted his teeth. "It's gone."

As he spoke those three words, his voice finally trembled beyond his control. Six years of endurance, six years of waiting—what had he been waiting for?

He had been waiting for this day.

Innate full soul power at level twenty. That was a number that had never appeared before in Soul Land's history.

He should have become the most dazzling genius on the continent, received focused training from Spirit Hall, fought over by the great sects, risen without hindrance, and ultimately stood at the peak of this world.

But now, it was all gone.

"I know," Tang Ling said calmly.

Tang San froze. He abruptly raised his head and stared fixedly at Tang Ling's impassive face. A chill shot up his spine and spread through his meridians to every limb and bone.

"You... knew?"

Tang Ling did not answer the question.

The side door was suddenly shoved open.

Bishop Matthew Nuo strode into the hall, his gaze locking directly onto the Clear Sky Hammer in Tang San's hand.

His face darkened, and he was just about to say something when his eyes swept over Tang Ling standing beside Tang San.

His steps came to an abrupt halt. The authoritative expression on his face shattered completely in an instant, replaced by terror that seeped into his very bones.

His pupils contracted violently, his lips trembled visibly, and cold sweat poured down his forehead.

Everyone in the hall saw it.

They watched the Spirit Hall bishop who normally stood so high above them, whom even the Notting City Lord had to treat with deference, go weak in the knees and fall to the ground with a thud before everyone present.

"Matthew Nuo, Bishop of the Notting City Spirit Hall Branch!" His forehead slammed heavily against the cold stone floor, his voice twisted by fear. "Greetings, Lord Tang Ling! I did not know of your arrival and failed to welcome you from afar. My crime deserves ten thousand deaths!"

Seeing this, Su Yuntao also hurriedly dropped to his knees. The four guards behind him sprawled flat on the floor, not even daring to raise their heads.

The entire hall was silent as death.

Old Jack's mouth hung open, his jaw nearly hitting the floor. He had lived for most of his life, and the highest-ranking official he had ever seen was the clerk who came to the village to collect taxes.

To him, a bishop of Spirit Hall was already someone who belonged in the heavens. Yet now, this heavenly figure was kneeling on the ground and paying such deep respects to an outsider who lived at the entrance to their village.

Lord Tang Ling?

The villagers looked at one another, their eyes filled with shock and confusion.

They knew Mr. Tang was no ordinary man, but they had never imagined he was extraordinary enough to make a Spirit Hall bishop kneel. Just who was this young man who had lived at the village entrance for six years and normally kept to himself?

Tang San, too, stood stunned where he was.

He looked at the trembling Matthew Nuo kneeling on the ground, then lifted his head to look at Tang Ling's utterly calm face. There was not even a hint of satisfaction in those pitch-black eyes, as if a Spirit Hall bishop kneeling before him was no more noteworthy than an ant crawling past his feet.

That absolute, indifferent, utterly natural sense of control made Tang San's heart sink to the bottom.

Just who was his godfather? Why had he come to Holy Soul Village? Had his appearance at the village entrance six years ago really been nothing more than coincidence?

"Get up." Tang Ling's voice remained calm. He did not even spare Matthew Nuo, who was kneeling on the ground, a glance. His gaze remained fixed on Tang San. "Today is the day my godson awakens his martial soul. Anything else can wait."

Godson.

The moment those two words left his mouth, Matthew Nuo's body shuddered violently.

He abruptly raised his head, his gaze sweeping back and forth between Tang Ling and Tang San twice. An exceedingly complicated expression appeared on his face—beyond the fear, something new had been added.

This child whose innate full soul power had been level twenty one moment and dropped to zero the next was actually this lord's godson?

"This subordinate understands!" He knocked his head heavily against the floor once more.

Tang Ling finally turned his head and glanced at him.

Just one glance.

Matthew Nuo felt as though he had been granted amnesty. He scrambled to the side and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

"Let's go, Xiao San." He beckoned to Tang San, his tone as gentle as an ordinary father calling his son home for dinner. "The awakening ceremony is over. It's time to go home."

It's time to go home. To Tang San's ears, those four words sounded like some kind of sentence. He stood there without moving. His legs felt as heavy as lead.

His hands still held the two martial souls. The lights of the Blue Silver Emperor and Clear Sky Hammer flickered in his palms, as if making one last struggle.

"Foster Father." Tang San's voice was hoarse. "Can my soul power... be restored?" It was the last question a drowning man could ask.

Tang Ling stopped and glanced back at him.

There was no sympathy in that look, no pity—not even anything that could be called "emotion."

"Restored?" Tang Ling tilted his head slightly. "Of course it can."

Tang San's eyes lit up at once.

"Innate soul power is innate. Once it's gone, it's gone."

Tang Ling's voice was soft, soft as a needle falling onto cotton. "But you're different from them. You can cultivate again from the beginning. Start from zero."

Cultivate from the beginning.

Start from zero.

Tang San's body swayed, as if someone had struck him over the head with a club. With his soul power reduced to zero, reaching Rank Ten again would take at least several years.

Several years.

Tang San's lips trembled. After his awakening, he could originally have gone straight to hunt a soul ring and become the youngest Soul Master in Soul Land's history. But now, everything had been reset to the very beginning.

No, it was worse than the beginning.

Because he had once possessed it, he understood better than anyone what he had lost.

"What? Scared?" Tang Ling's voice rang out again.

He walked over and crouched in front of Tang San, meeting his gaze.

A faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared on that handsome face. It was so slight that it was nearly impossible to notice, yet it made Tang San feel as though his blood were flowing backward.

"Xiao San." Tang Ling reached out and wiped away a tear that had somehow seeped from the corner of Tang San's eye with his thumb. "Your father is the Clear Sky Douluo, the youngest Titled Douluo in Soul Land. Your mother is the hundred-thousand-year Blue Silver Emperor, one of the most supreme beings among soul beasts. You are their son."

"Your bloodline is the most exceptional bloodline in Soul Land."

"It's only cultivating from the beginning. What, has something this trivial frightened you?"

Tang San froze.

He looked into Tang Ling's eyes, trying to find mockery or malice within them. But he saw nothing.

"I understand, Foster Father."

Tang San lowered his head and forced all his emotions back into his heart.

"I'll cultivate again from the beginning."

"Good boy." Tang Ling patted his shoulder and rose to his feet. "Let's go."

He took Xiao Wu's hand and headed toward the hall entrance. As he passed Matthew Nuo, his steps paused briefly.

Matthew Nuo had only just risen halfway before he dropped to his knees again with a thud.

"Let's go. It'll be dark soon." He led Xiao Wu out of the hall.

Tang San followed behind. After taking a few steps, he suddenly raised his head and looked at Tang Ling's back.

The green robe shimmered softly under the afternoon sunlight. His steps were unhurried and steady, and there was not the slightest fluctuation of soul power around him—yet he had made a Spirit Hall bishop kneel and kowtow.

Who exactly was he?

That question, which had troubled Tang San for six years, rose to the surface once more. This time, it weighed more heavily on him than ever.

Because Tang San vaguely felt that everything he had experienced over the past six years, all those unexplainable events, seemed to point toward one person.

The man he had called "Foster Father" for six years.

"Xiao San." Tang Ling's voice came from ahead, as casual as if he were making small talk. "Do you know what the most painful thing in this world is?"

Tang San was silent for a moment.

"What is it?"

Tang Ling stopped and turned around. The setting sun shone from behind him, edging his figure in a golden-red glow. He lowered his head to look at Tang San, and a gentle, affectionate smile appeared at the corner of his lips—a smile that made Tang San's scalp go numb.

"The most painful thing isn't never having something." His voice was so soft that only Tang San could hear it. "It's having it, then losing it."

"The most desperate thing isn't darkness. It's seeing the light, then being pushed back into the darkness."

"Don't you think so, Xiao San?"

Tang San felt as though someone had clenched his heart in their fist. He opened his mouth, but not a single word came out.

Tang Ling smiled, then reached out and ruffled his hair.

The touch was gentle, like a loving father comforting a son who had been wronged.

"But don't worry." He withdrew his hand, turned, and continued walking forward. His voice drifted back to him. "Foster Father will always be by your side. Watching you grow stronger step by step, watching you get back up time and time again."