Being Valued

"I understand."

Eighteen was the day Shui Bing'er came of age, and also the deadline for the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Family to formally propose marriage.

Shui Bing'er was thirteen now. There were still five years until that deadline.

Within five years, he had to possess enough strength to make the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Family wary of him.

Five years, from Soul Elder to Titled Douluo.

To anyone else, it would sound like the ravings of a madman, but Wu Changkong did not think so.

He had memories of his past life, the Mysterious Heaven Technique, the Purple Demon Eyes, the meditation hammer-body method, and the battle armor and soul tools he was about to start making.

Others needed decades to walk this path. He did not.

Five years was enough.

"Uncle Yu, I'll keep what you told me today a secret from Bing'er."

Shui Yu paused, then nodded. A trace of relief flashed through his eyes.

"You and Bing'er are very alike. You both like carrying everything on your own shoulders."

"Likewise."

"Alright, that's enough for tonight. I won't disturb your rest."

"You still have class tomorrow. Don't let today's matters delay your cultivation."

"This is for you."

With that, Shui Yu took out a token and held it out to Wu Changkong.

The token was about the size of a palm. The front bore the Shui Family's frostflower crest, while the back displayed an ancient-looking character for "Shui."

"What is this?"

"This is a Shui Family token. If you run into any trouble in the future, bring this token to the Shui Family and find me."

"As long as it's something I can help with, I won't refuse."

Wu Changkong lowered his head to look at the token in his palm, then closed his fingers around it.

He knew that this token meant the Shui Family head was not placating him in the family's name, but making a promise as an individual.

I acknowledge you. I'm willing to bet on you.

That recognition carried more weight than any verbal praise.

"Thank you, Uncle Yu."

"Alright, it's late. I won't disturb your rest any longer."

"Remember what I told you, and remember what you said yourself."

Wu Changkong nodded and escorted Shui Yu to the door.

Shui Yu opened the door. The corridor was empty, with only a few wall lamps casting a dim yellow glow.

He looked back at Wu Changkong once more, then strode toward the staircase.

Wu Changkong closed the door and looked down at the token in his hand.

He tucked the token away close to his body, then went to sit at the desk.

He turned his notebook to a fresh blank page, then took paper, a pen, and a wooden ruler from the drawer.

He did not immediately start writing. Instead, he closed his eyes and summoned the knowledge about battle armor from his past life.

Battle armor, the pinnacle product of soul tool development, had a vast and precise production system divided into four major stages from beginning to end.

They were design, forging, manufacturing, and repair.

Designers were responsible for transforming the battle armor's shape, a soul master's physical parameters, and martial soul traits into precise blueprints.

Forgers crafted every component on the design drawings from metal.

Manufacturers completed the inscription of core arrays and the final assembly.

Repairers handled routine maintenance and post-battle repairs.

Each of these four stages required years of specialized training. Thus, at Shrek Academy in his past life, a complete set of battle armor was usually made by four people working separately in their respective roles for maximum efficiency.

But he did not have four people.

He only had himself.

Fortunately, design had been his main field in his past life.

As for forging, he had studied under his father for seven years since childhood in this life. His forging skill was already enough to handle the creation of even the most precise battle armor components.

With both skills gathered in one person, the workload would be enormous, but it was not impossible.

More importantly, in this era, no one understood battle armor better than he did.

He did not even need to explain what he was doing to anyone. He only needed to quietly make it.

But he did not intend to keep it hidden forever. Battle armor needed to flourish.

He opened his eyes, picked up his pen, and began sketching the outline of the battle armor.

His strokes were remarkably steady. Before every line fell, he had already run through dozens of calculations in his mind. By the time it touched the paper, it was already the optimal plan, requiring almost no revisions.

Three hours later...

After finishing the outline of the chest armor, he began marking the parameters.

The thickness, curvature, weight, and material of every armor plate filled the empty spaces on the blueprint with dense, tiny writing.

The wooden ruler moved back and forth across the paper, measuring exact proportions while his pen marked dimensions at key points.

Chest armor thickness: half an inch. Mobility gap: three-tenths of an inch.

Then came the energy conduction routes.

This was the core of the entire set of battle armor, and the key distinction between ordinary armor and true battle armor.

Using a vermilion pen, he drew route after route across the blueprint. Starting from the core array at the center of the chest armor, they extended outward along patterns inside the metal, branching like blood vessels.

These routes were not drawn at random. Every one had to avoid the joints connecting the armor plates, bypass the areas most likely to deform under force in battle, and ensure that soul power suffered the least possible loss during transmission.

He drew slowly. Every red line had to be considered three or four times before he committed it to the page. Occasionally, he stopped to consider whether it was correct.

After completing the energy conduction routes, he wrote a single character at the top of the blueprint: Ice.

This was the name he had given his first set of battle armor.

It did not need a flashy prefix or complicated meaning. The single word "Ice" was enough.

By the time he finished the last component breakdown diagram, a crisp birdcall came from outside the window.

Wu Changkong raised his head and realized that the sky outside was no longer pitch-black.

Even he was a little surprised. Unknowingly, he had drawn for an entire night.

"Morning came so quickly?" he muttered, setting down his pen and rubbing his brow. "I should rest for a while. Once it's light, I still have class."

Then, as he rose from the chair, his lower back let out several soft cracks. His stiff muscles and bones finally stretched out at the instant he stood.

He gathered the blueprints neatly and placed them back on the desk.

Then he walked to the bed, took off his outer robe, and lay down on his back.

The moment his head touched the pillow, drowsiness washed over him, and his breathing gradually evened out.

Wu Changkong was jolted awake by a burst of urgent knocking.

He groggily opened his eyes. Blinding sunlight was already pouring in through the window. It was clearly no longer morning.

"Wu Changkong, are you in there?" Ling Shuang, the homeroom teacher, called from outside.

Wu Changkong rolled over and sat up. Seeing the sun hanging high outside the window, he silently cursed.

Knock, knock, knock...

"Wu Changkong!"

"I'm here," he answered. He quickly pulled on his outer robe and headed for the door while tying his sash.

The moment the door opened, Ling Shuang stood outside, her gaze behind gold-rimmed glasses as cold as two blades of ice.

"On the first day of class, you're late despite being the class monitor."

"Wu Changkong, do you think the rules of Heaven Class don't apply to you, or do you think being level thirty-nine means you can ignore discipline?"