"San, relax. There's no need to be so nervous."
Tang Zhen smiled at the well-behaved little boy before him, but inwardly, he could not help sighing. He had naturally heard about Tang Hao's addiction to alcohol and had gone to reprimand him several times. Unfortunately, Tang Xiao's death had dealt him far too heavy a blow. No matter what Tang Zhen said, Tang Hao had never managed to quit drinking. Fortunately, although he drank himself into a stupor every day, his soul power level had not fallen behind by much. He was now a level eighty-nine Soul Douluo.
His cultivation was still progressing somewhat faster than Tang Xiao's had.
Tang Zhen simply did not know whether San had inherited Tang Hao's talent for cultivation.
With Tang Zhen's encouragement, Tang San took a deep breath and stepped into the center of the six black stones. As Tang Zhen poured soul power into them, a faint glow instantly flared to life.
Tang San immediately felt a warmth, as though his entire body had been enveloped in a pleasantly warm world. The internal energy of the Mysterious Heaven Skill within him seemed to stir slightly.
Then Tang San suddenly felt as though something inside him had shattered, and all that warmth surged into his palm in an instant.
Tang Zhen's eyes abruptly lit up.
A faint black light instantly gushed from Tang San's palm and condensed into shape-a pitch-black hammer with a handle about half a foot long, looking much like a miniature forging hammer. Yet its black surface bore exceptionally peculiar patterns. At a rough glance, those patterns numbered in the thousands.
When the hammer appeared in Tang San's hand, the air throughout the room grew oppressive, and Tang San's face instantly turned pale.
The expression on Tang Zhen's face abruptly froze.