Can't Stop Now!

When he saw Tang Ziran's reaction,

Chen Xing immediately understood.

Of course he knew the thing was a little expensive.

He also knew Tang Ziran earned enough to buy an ordinary Storage Soul Tool.

After all, this was the age of Battle Armor. A simple Storage Soul Tool couldn't cost that much.

So why did he look so troubled?

Probably because there was another mouth to feed at home now.

And Wulin's appetite was growing by the day.

That added up to a huge expense.

Just then, Tang Wulin spoke up:

"Are Storage Soul Tools expensive? I've seen plenty of classmates with them."

His question caught both Tang Ziran and Chen Xing off guard.

Tang Ziran put down his chopsticks and explained,

"Wulin, even the lowest-grade Storage Soul Tool costs three thousand Federation Credits."

Tang Wulin's mouth fell open.

"Th-three thousand?"

"Yes. How much do you think your dad makes repairing one Mecha? And there are all these people to feed."

Tang Wulin fell silent.

He lowered his head and stared at the half bowl of rice he had left, lost in thought.

Chen Xing was about to say, "Then forget it,"

when Tang Ziran suddenly changed tack.

"But..."

Tang Wulin looked up at once.

Tang Ziran studied his two sons. After a moment's silence, he seemed to make up his mind.

"Chen Xing, I saw how you did at my shop today."

Chen Xing blinked.

Tang Ziran set down his chopsticks, his voice unusually serious.

"You learn fast, and your hands are steady. You handled those parts today better than my two apprentices did back then."

"To be honest, I thought you were just curious and wanted to play around. But after today, I think you might actually have a talent for Mecha work."

"Since you have the knack for it, I'd like to hire you properly as my assistant."

"Come by every day from now on. I'll track your hours and pay you by the hour."

Warmth surged through Chen Xing's chest.

"Dad, you..."

Tang Ziran waved him off.

"Don't thank me yet. It's not a handout."

"With another pair of hands, we can finish jobs faster, and I can take on more business. Your wages will come out of the extra income. I won't lose a thing."

Chen Xing nodded hard.

"I'll work my hardest."

Working as Tang Ziran's assistant was a win all around.

Before opening his repair shop, Tang Ziran had been a Level Four Mecha Engineer.

Chen Xing was bound to learn more useful things from him.

And he would get paid for it—with money earned by his own family, no less. It couldn't have worked out better.

"Can I go with my brothers?" Na'er asked timidly.

Tang Ziran paused, but he didn't refuse.

"You can, but don't get too close to the work."

Na'er nodded obediently.

With Chen Xing's arrangements settled, Tang Ziran turned straight to Tang Wulin.

"Wulin, the same goes for you. After school, go learn Forging from Master Mang Tian. I'll speak to him tomorrow."

"If I learn Forging from him, will I be able to make a Storage Soul Tool?"

Tang Ziran smiled. "Of course."

Tang Wulin's eyes lit up, and he declared,

"Then I want to learn! I'll forge a storage Soul Tool for my brother, and someday I'll make lots and lots of powerful Soul Tools for him to use."

He paused and glanced at Na'er.

"For Na'er too."

Warmth spread through Chen Xing's chest.

Now that was a good little brother!

Tang Wulin was the best little brother he could ask for!

Tang Ziran picked up his cup and took a sip of water.

"Both of you, remember this. You learn a trade for yourselves, not for anyone else."

Chen Xing and Tang Wulin exchanged a look, then nodded firmly.

After dinner, Chen Xing left the house alone.

He followed the path down to the beach.

A salty, damp breeze blew in from the sea, and a vast sky full of stars stretched overhead.

He looked up at them and thought over everything that had happened that day.

Na'er was settled in now.

The house was a little cramped, but it felt livelier than before.

Tang Wulin was even more driven than he had expected. It made him proud—and put a little pressure on him too.

If his little brother was working that hard, he couldn't fall behind as the older brother.

He gripped the Pistol in his pocket.

Tomorrow, those thugs might be lying in wait for him.

He would make sure they got a taste of the Equalizer of All Beings.

But returning to this beach stirred something else in Chen Xing.

Who would have thought?

In just two short days,

he had gone from an ordinary person without a shred of Soul Power

to someone with the Illusory Creation Authority, a power that could turn everything around.

And he owed it all to...

Chen Xing's gaze fell on a stretch of beach not far away.

An abandoned train lay there in silence.

Its body was mottled with rust, more than half of it buried in the sand.

Several windows were shattered, and even the once-elegant red sofas inside looked wrecked.

But Chen Xing knew.

This was the Astral Express.

The Astral Express that had changed everything for him.

"Martial Soul: Paintbrush. Zero Soul Power. Useless Martial Soul."

Useless Martial Soul.

Those three words had left him stunned for quite a while.

He was a transmigrator. An art student.

And after arriving on the Douluo Continent, all he had awakened was a Paintbrush without even a trace of Soul Power?

That night,

he had lain in bed staring at the ceiling, one thought going around and around in his head:

Why me?

He had thought about it for ages before finding an answer.

Because this world isn't fair.

In his previous life, when he was preparing for art school entrance exams, his teacher had told him,

"If you lack talent, practice until you make up the difference. Drawing slowly is fine. You only lose when you stop."

Across both his lives, Chen Xing had never feared a challenge. What he feared was giving up.

So the next day, he had opened the window, drawn back the curtains, and sat down at his easel again.

For two months, he practiced every day.

The first thing he did each morning was pick up a brush. The last thing he did before bed was hold one too.

His wrist ached so badly he couldn't lift it?

He shook it out and kept going.

Blood blisters formed on his fingertips?

He wrapped them in cloth and kept drawing.

He tried all sorts of methods.

But in the end, nothing happened.

The Paintbrush was still just a paintbrush.

His pile of drawings, though, kept growing.

You can be slow, but you can't stop.

He told himself that every day.

Today was no different.

Chen Xing sat before his easel, took a deep breath, and put brush to paper.

He didn't know what he wanted to draw. His hand simply moved on its own.

The brush tip swept a bold arc across the page,

and then the outline of an object gradually took shape.

His hand began to tremble with excitement.

The more he drew, the stronger that excitement grew.

Beneath his brush, the image slowly came into focus.

Countless lines came together to form a magnificent train!

It sped through the galaxy, laying colorful Silver Rail wherever it went.

Chen Xing stared at what he had drawn.

"This is..."

[Why did my game start on its own?]