The Bearing of an Old Friend, the Ancestor of an Old Friend

The halo of the soul-conducting streetlamp at the school gate was shattered several times by the night wind before finally settling into complete stillness.

The crowd gathered outside gradually dispersed. Some were led away by assistants from the Academic Affairs Office to arrange temporary lodging, while others lingered for a moment, then turned and vanished into the night when it became clear that no further news would come.

Tang Wulin had already turned around, his boot tips pointed toward Sea God Island, yet he could not bring himself to take that step.

He lowered his head and looked at a thin, scraggly blade of wild grass growing from a crack in the bluestone paving before his boots. It swayed gently in the night wind. After remaining silent for two breaths, he withdrew his foot, turned back around, and walked over to sit on the bluestone steps beside the school gate.

He braced both hands on his knees, his back slightly hunched, his gaze resting on the open ground outside the gate, where moonlight and lamplight intertwined.

The steps still held some warmth from the daytime sun. It pressed through his clothes against his legs, warm and pleasant, clashing with the chill in the night breeze but not making him feel too uncomfortable.

Only a few scattered figures remained outside the school gate.

The old locust tree's shadow stretched diagonally across the ground, its canopy outlined by moonlight with a fuzzy silver edge.

Beneath the tree roots, the boy in the dusty gray-brown short robe was still sitting there, leaning back. His bundle rested on his knees, and he clutched that yellowed sheet of paper in his hand. With his head lowered, his thumb repeatedly rubbed along the edge of the page, as though he were constantly encouraging himself.

He sat with his head bowed for a while before raising it. His gaze passed through the gaps in the iron gate and landed on Tang Wulin, who sat on the steps.

The two looked at each other from roughly a dozen paces apart.

The boy bit his lip, as though making some decision in his heart. Then he rose while hugging his bundle, brushed the grass clippings from his trouser legs, and headed toward the school gate.

He did not walk quickly, but every step was firm.

When he reached the iron fence, he stopped. Looking through the half-open side gate at Tang Wulin on the steps, he bent slightly at the waist. His voice carried a deliberate steadiness, though a trace of nervousness still slipped through. "Hello. I'm here to enroll. I have the expulsion notice Teacher Zhou Yi issued back then."

As he spoke, he unfolded the neatly folded paper in his hand and offered it over with both hands.

The paper had yellowed, its corners frayed. Repeated folding had left several deep creases across its surface.

Tang Wulin stood and walked down two steps, taking the sheet through the iron fence.

The moment his fingertips caught the paper, he felt a lingering warmth from it having been gripped for so long, along with the faint dampness of sweat from the boy's palm.

He unfolded it and swept his eyes from top to bottom.

The handwriting on the paper was indeed Zhou Yi's. The strokes were sharp and carried a somewhat cutting air. He had seen them several times before, though his own handwriting at the time had looked rather immature.

Zhou Yi's name and the date were written at the bottom. Counting it out, this had happened ten years ago.

He raised his head, his gaze returning to the boy before him.

The boy looked around eleven or twelve. He was thin and fair-skinned, with delicate, proper features, though his complexion carried the faint waxy yellow of long-term malnourishment.

His lips were pressed together, his jaw taut, but his eyes were exceptionally bright, holding something that had been tempered countless times and still refused to be extinguished.

"What's your name?" Tang Wulin folded the paper without immediately returning it, asking in a casual tone.

"Xie Mu." The boy's voice was steadier than before, though the last note still held a nearly imperceptible tension. "Xie as in gratitude, Mu as in admiration."

Tang Wulin nodded, glanced down at the paper's contents once more, then looked back at his face. "What is your martial soul?"

At those words, a brief flicker of hesitation passed through Xie Mu's eyes, as though he had answered that question many times before and every answer had led to an unpleasant outcome.

Still, he raised both hands, palms upward, and slowly spread his fingers.

Two lights lit up from his palms at the same time.

In his left hand was a dagger, its entire body a glistening white, like jade polished after being steeped in moonlight. A faint sheen flowed across the blade. It was single-edged, with a slightly upturned point, giving off a cold and sharp aura.

In his right hand was another dagger, black as ink. Its blade reflected no light at all, but its edges were traced with incredibly fine silver lines. It was double-edged, like a snake lurking in the darkness, ready to spring out at any moment.

The two daggers, one white and one black, one bright and one dark, hovered above his palms about half a foot apart. An invisible pull seemed to exist between them, like two pieces of a separated puzzle answering one another in the unseen.

Tang Wulin's gaze stopped on the two daggers.

His pupils contracted slightly, and the calm weariness on his face nearly broke apart in that instant.

He stared at the two martial souls for several breaths before quietly drawing in a breath and forcing down the surprise that had nearly surfaced on his face.

Light Dragon Dagger. Shadow Dragon Dagger.

They were dragon dagger-type martial souls. Though they were two forms of the same martial soul, they not only carried the drawbacks of twin martial souls, but lacked their benefits as well.

Yet this martial soul's potential could only be described as terrifying.

This guy should be Xie Xie's ancestor. And even separately, the Light Dragon Dagger and Shadow Dragon Dagger were formidable—let alone if they fused. If they fused, they would become the Time-Space Dragon.

"Good martial soul." Tang Wulin's voice was lower than before, carrying the approval of someone who had seriously weighed its worth. "The Light Dragon Dagger and Shadow Dragon Dagger are similar martial souls that have differentiated into bright and dark forms. That is rare across the entire Douluo Continent. Your martial soul has tremendous potential."

Xie Mu froze for a moment, his fingers around his martial souls tightening slightly.

His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to ask something but did not know how to begin.

Tang Wulin understood what he was holding back. He withdrew his gaze and made his tone more casual. "What level are you now?"

Xie Mu recalled both daggers and clenched his fists again, as though trying to hold onto the sudden swell of emotion. Then he spoke, his voice steadier than before. "I'm twelve this year. Right now... I'm around rank twenty-nine."

Tang Wulin rubbed his chin. His talent was quite good. If he could obtain an immortal herb from the Icefire Yin Yang Well...

But which one had Xie Xie absorbed back then?

It seemed to be Autumn Dew!

After saying that, Xie Mu paused, then added in the calm tone of someone long accustomed to being questioned, "My martial soul is a little different from other people's. The Light Dragon Dagger and Shadow Dragon Dagger need soul rings at the same time. So... although my cultivation is rank twenty-nine, the soul rings have boosted me quite a bit."