Mang Tian

"Uncle Mang Tian, why are you here?"

The Saturday afternoon sunlight was just right, streaming through the gauze window in the living room and casting checkerboard patches of light across the floor.

Tang Wulin pushed open the door with a brand-new Red Mountain Academy junior soul master class uniform backpack on his back, his head covered in sweat and his little face still brimming with excitement from finishing registration.

He was wearing a white short-sleeved T-shirt today, its collar soaked through with sweat. In his hand, he still clutched a crumpled admission notice.

After changing his shoes and looking up, he froze.

In the living room, Tang Ziran and Lang Yue sat on the sofa, chatting with an exceptionally tall man.

The man looked especially cramped on the tiny sofa, nearly taking up the entire thing by himself.

He wore a faded blue tank top, exposing two thick, sturdy arms covered in defined muscles. Several scars of varying depths marked his arms, traces left behind from years of dealing with forging hammers and red-hot iron.

His skin was a healthy bronze, dark and glossy. A thick beard covered nearly half his face, leaving only a pair of bright, lively eyes exposed. He looked fierce, as if he might lose his temper at any moment.

He was none other than Mang Tian, the famous blacksmith of Aolai City.

Na'er sat on a small stool beside him, holding half a chilled watermelon in her arms and scooping it out spoonful by spoonful with a little spoon.

Her short silver hair lay softly against her cheeks, and a bit of red watermelon juice clung to the corner of her mouth, making her look like a little kitten caught sneaking food.

When she saw Tang Wulin return, she looked up. Her large purple eyes curved into crescents as she waved the little spoon at him.

"Tang Wulin, come here."

The moment Mang Tian saw Tang Wulin return, he set down the enamel teacup in his hand and called out in a gruff voice.

His voice was like muffled thunder, making even the living room windows tremble slightly.

At first, when Tang Ziran had told him that he wanted to send Tang Wulin to work part-time at his workshop, he had been reluctant in every possible way.

His workshop almost never took in children, let alone a six-year-old toddler. The boy would most likely be unable to help at all, need someone to watch him, and occasionally cry and make a fuss. He would be nothing but trouble.

Only because Tang Ziran had kept pleading with him, and because they had been friends for many years, had he reluctantly agreed to let Tang Wulin come over and do odd jobs for three months.

Then, last night, Tang Ziran had suddenly called him and haltingly told him that Tang Wulin possessed Innate Full Soul Power.

Mang Tian had been so shocked that he had nearly dropped the forging hammer in his hand.

Innate Full Soul Power!

A genius who appeared only once every thirty years in all of Aolai City!

After living this long, it was his first time seeing a soul master with Innate Full Soul Power in person.

His curiosity instantly overwhelmed all his reluctance. Early that morning, he had rushed over impatiently, wanting to see for himself what this legendary genius was like.

Although Tang Wulin had no idea what was going on, he obediently set down his backpack and hurried over.

Ever since he was little, he had been somewhat afraid of Uncle Mang Tian, who looked so fierce. Every time he saw him, he did not dare speak loudly.

"Stand still."

Mang Tian looked at the skinny little boy before him and nodded.

Then he extended a rough, callused hand and heavily patted Tang Wulin's shoulder.

His palm was so large that it could nearly cover Tang Wulin's entire shoulder.

The thick calluses on it came from years of gripping a forging hammer, along with a faint scent of iron filings and coal.

He closed his eyes and applied slight pressure with his fingertips, sensing Tang Wulin's bone density and muscle resilience.

The moment he felt them, Mang Tian's eyebrows rose.

Something was off.

This child looked skinny and small, no different from an ordinary six-year-old, but his bones were extraordinarily hard. His muscles were also far firmer and more resilient than those of children his age.

He was nothing like a child raised in an ordinary household. He seemed more like a little warrior who had undergone strict body training since childhood.

This physique is far too powerful. It's nothing a six-year-old should possess.

Mang Tian silently muttered to himself.

He opened his eyes, looked at Tang Wulin, and spoke in a stern tone.

"Release your martial soul and let me see it."

"Okay, Uncle Mang Tian."

Tang Wulin nodded and took a deep breath.

He slowly spread his hands to either side, then moved his thoughts.

"Buzz—"

A faint hum sounded.

Countless slender Blue Silver Grass blades slowly spread outward from Tang Wulin at the center.

The main body of this Blue Silver Grass was a clear azure-blue, as clean as the sky after rain.

Dense golden patterns, like blood vessels, covered the grass stems and glimmered faintly in the sunlight.

Besides that, irregular purple veins were interwoven among the golden patterns, flickering between bright and dim. They added a trace of mysterious, tyrannical presence to the originally fragile Blue Silver Grass.

They looked extremely thin, even a full size thinner than ordinary Blue Silver Grass, as though they could snap with the slightest tug.

They drifted gently through the air, brushing over the sofa, the coffee table, and Na'er's little feet. They showed no aggression at all. Instead, they gave off a faint, fresh grassy fragrance that left one feeling refreshed.

"Hm? This is... Blue Silver Grass?"

Mang Tian frowned, a trace of confusion appearing on his face.

In his impression, Blue Silver Grass should have been entirely blue-green without any patterns at all, but this Blue Silver Grass was obviously different.

Puzzled, he reached out with his right hand and casually grabbed a strand of Blue Silver Grass that had drifted in front of him.

He had assumed that with a light tug, this seemingly fragile strand of Blue Silver Grass would snap.

Yet when he tugged lightly, the Blue Silver Grass did not move at all.

Mang Tian was stunned.

He increased his strength, gripping the Blue Silver Grass tightly with his fingers before pulling sharply backward.

It still did not break.

Now Mang Tian was interested.

He began channeling soul power through his body and into both arms. Then he pulled hard again, but it still did not break.

He was a Four-Ring Soul Ancestor. This strength was enough to tear apart a steel bar.

Yet that thin strand of Blue Silver Grass remained as tough as steel, stretched taut in place. Forget breaking—it did not even show the slightest sign of being pulled longer.

Just as Mang Tian was preparing to exert more force, he suddenly felt a sharp sting in his hand.

"Hiss—"

Mang Tian sucked in a cold breath and instinctively released his grip.

He raised his right hand before his eyes and examined it carefully.

A tiny, needlepoint-sized wound had appeared on the pad of his finger.

An extremely faint purple aura slowly seeped from the wound, carrying a trace of cold and tyrannical energy.

However, the aura was incredibly faint. It lasted for less than two seconds before completely dissipating into the air.

That tiny wound also healed at a visible speed, leaving behind not even the slightest scar, as though the sting just now had been an illusion.

Mang Tian's pupils suddenly constricted. The confusion on his face vanished without a trace, replaced by deep shock.

He was a Four-Ring Soul Ancestor!

Although he was only the most ordinary Assault-Type Soul Ancestor and could not be considered particularly powerful, there was no way a six-year-old child without even a soul ring should have been able to hurt him!

And this was not poison at all.

He could sense that the purple aura contained no poisonous properties. It was an incredibly pure, incredibly tyrannical destructive energy.

Though there was only a trace of it, it carried a terrifying pressure that seemed capable of destroying everything.

How could a Blue Silver Grass martial soul possess destructive energy?

This definitely was not ordinary Blue Silver Grass!

"Tang Wulin, your Blue Silver Grass martial soul appears to be anything but simple."

Mang Tian raised his head and looked at Tang Wulin, his expression more earnest and serious than ever before.

Excitement gleamed in his eyes, as though he had discovered an uncut piece of peerless jade.

"Tang Tang, that's so cool! As expected of my son!"

Tang Ziran stared excitedly at the Blue Silver Grass drifting around the living room, so thrilled that he nearly jumped off the sofa.

He had never seen Tang Wulin release his martial soul before. He had not expected his son to be so impressive.

"It smells so nice."

Lang Yue took a deep breath, an enraptured expression appearing on her face.

"This Blue Silver Grass smells wonderful, even better than the fragrance in our house. Tang Tang, sweetie, could you put some grass in Mommy's room too?

If we put it on the bedside table, I'm sure we'll sleep wonderfully."

"Wow! So this is a martial soul? It's so pretty!"

Na'er hugged her half watermelon and stared at the Blue Silver Grass glowing with golden and purple light with wide, sparkling purple eyes. Her little face was filled with admiration.

"Big Brother is so cool!"

The four of them chattered away, each speaking over the others, completely treating Mang Tian beside them as if he were invisible.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Can you listen to me?"

Mang Tian glared furiously at the family chatting so enthusiastically.

He suddenly slapped his thigh and shouted loudly, his voice so loud it nearly blew the roof off.