An extraordinary recovery

"I'm still worried."

Once the door closed, Lang Yue finally spoke in a hushed voice. She had done everything she could to restrain herself, but her eyes were still red, and a sob lingered in her voice no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.

"Wulin is only six. Six! He was there for just two hours, and his hands were scraped raw, his arms swollen. Whenever I think of him smiling and saying, 'It doesn't hurt,' my heart feels as though something is twisting it."

Tang Ziran stood by the window, silent for a moment.

Of course his heart ached too.

When he came home and saw his son's little hands, swollen red and scraped raw, his heart had plummeted as well. But while his wife's tears came more readily, he was used to holding his feelings down first, to considering whether this path was worth taking, whether this hardship was worth enduring.

"Yue," he said quietly, "I understand. If this were only about getting him to earn money sooner, or forcing him to suffer, I would never have sent him to Mang Tian either."

Lang Yue raised her head and looked at her husband.

Tang Ziran slowly breathed out. His voice was soft, but steady.

"But before I finished work today, Mang Tian made a special soul communicator call to me."

"What did he say?" Lang Yue couldn't help asking.

"He said our son isn't just willing to endure hardship." Tang Ziran paused, a complicated emotion slowly surfacing in his eyes, one even he hadn't entirely managed to suppress. "He said Wulin's foundation in Forging is completely different from that of ordinary children. It isn't simply that he's strong. It's... as though he was born to hold a hammer."

Lang Yue froze slightly.

Tang Ziran continued:

"You know what Mang Tian is like. He's proud and has exacting standards. He doesn't praise people lightly, especially not to humor a six-year-old child. For him to say so much today means Wulin really has something that caught his eye."

He paused briefly, then added:

"He also said Wulin dared to use his martial soul directly as a Forging hammer on his very first day. And neither the way he put force into his swings nor the steadiness of his strikes resembled a child who had never touched Forging before. In terms of the most basic raw strength and endurance alone, he isn't far behind an ordinary grown man."

Lang Yue's heart jolted.

Not far behind an ordinary grown man.

Had she heard those words elsewhere, she probably would have thought them exaggerated. But since Mang Tian had said them, she knew they had to be at least eighty percent true.

Yet that only left her feelings more tangled.

Of course she was happy, and pleasantly surprised. But beneath that surprise lay an even deeper ache. She knew better than anyone that this child being praised as "exceptionally gifted" still needed a five-and-a-half-year-old girl to feed him spoonful by spoonful that evening before he could get food into his mouth.

"But..." she said softly, "even if he has talent, he's still too young."

"Yes, he is." Tang Ziran looked at her, his voice dropping as well. "That's why I want him to understand sooner that if he truly wants to go far, he can't rely on talent alone. And he certainly can't just expect us to pave the road for him."

He stepped forward and gently took his wife's hand.

"We both know our family's circumstances. If all we needed to do was raise a child safely, we could grit our teeth and manage. But Wulin wants to take the path of a Soul Master. The farther he goes down that road, the more money it burns through, and the more he'll have to rely on himself. If he doesn't learn to stand on his own now, things will only be harder later."

Lang Yue's eyes reddened again.

She understood every word her husband said, and knew he was right. But understanding was one thing; actually watching her son start enduring hardship so young still made her heart tremble with pain.

Seeing her remain silent, Tang Ziran softened his voice further.

"I'm not trying to push him too hard," he said. "I just want to give him another path he can hold on to. If he can truly find his footing in Forging, then whether his path as a Soul Master goes smoothly or not, he'll at least have more confidence in his ability to support himself. Besides, Mang Tian's attitude this time goes beyond simply being 'willing to give it a try.'"

"I think he's genuinely considering taking him as a disciple."

Those words finally made Lang Yue pause.

Being an apprentice worker meant doing a job.

But truly catching the eye of someone like Mang Tian meant this was no longer simply a matter of enduring hardship.

She remained silent for a long time before nodding gently.

"Then... let him try a little longer." Her voice was very soft. "But if Wulin's body really can't take it, I won't let him go again, no matter what."

"All right." Tang Ziran nodded. "If it truly harms his health, I'll be the first to object."

The hushed conversation in the room finally subsided.

When they opened the door and went back out, the warm yellow light in the living room was still on. Most of the food on the table was gone. Tang Wulin sat perfectly upright, trying hard to raise his arms, though he still struggled. Na'er sat beside him, holding a spoon, carefully bringing a spoonful of rice, then a spoonful of food, to his mouth.

Both children were beautiful, one with bright black eyes, the other with clear violet eyes. Sitting beneath the light, they truly looked like a quiet painting.

The tears in Lang Yue's eyes hadn't entirely faded, but at that sight, her heart suddenly softened.

Tang Ziran stood beside her and watched for a moment before murmuring:

"Why don't we... really let this child stay?"

Lang Yue turned to look at him without answering immediately.

"It would be good for Wulin to have the two of them grow up together," Tang Ziran said softly. "He's too straightforward, and too quick to shoulder everything himself. Having another person in the family would give him someone else to care about, and a little more tenderness in his heart."

His gaze settled on Na'er, and his voice grew quieter.

"Besides, this child really is pitiful."

This time, Lang Yue didn't hesitate. She simply gave a soft murmur of assent.

Dinner slowly drew to an end amid the lamplight and the aroma of food.

But another equally practical matter left the couple even more troubled—

Their household hadn't merely gained another child; it now had two children with extraordinary appetites.

Tang Wulin's appetite had already become increasingly astonishing because of his awakening and Forging. Na'er looked small and thin, but she was every bit his equal when it came to eating. By the time both were full, the food on the table had once again been swept clean.

Looking at the empty rice pot and serving bowl, Lang Yue and Tang Ziran exchanged a glance, each seeing the same helplessness in the other's eyes.

"I'll start looking for some work tomorrow," Lang Yue said quietly. "If we rely on your wages alone, things really may get tight from now on."

Tang Ziran was silent for a moment, then nodded.

"That would be good."

After dinner, the two children returned to their room.

Na'er sat quietly beside her little bed as before, watching Tang Wulin slowly climb onto his own. The day's exertions had worn him out, and his eyelids were already fighting to close, but he still forced himself to stay awake and smiled at Na'er.

"Na'er, look. This is my martial soul."

As he spoke, he raised his right hand. A dark light flashed, and the little black hammer quietly appeared in his palm.

Beneath the lamplight, it remained quite unremarkable.

Black all over, short, thick, and blunt, it resembled an old little piece of ironwork, without the slightest splendor or sharpness. Yet for some reason, Na'er's violet eyes stirred faintly when she saw it, as though she felt some inexplicable concern for this hammer.

She reached out and gently touched its head.

"Big brother, is this your martial soul?"

"That's right." Tang Wulin nodded with a little pride. "It might not look like much now, but Uncle Mang Tian said it isn't just my martial soul. It's my Forging hammer too."

Na'er stared at it in a daze. After a moment, she asked softly:

"Then will I... have a martial soul too someday?"

"Of course," Tang Wulin said as though it were only natural. "Everyone has their own martial soul. Once you're six, you can have yours awakened on Awakening Day next year. Who knows? Your martial soul might even be stronger than mine."

As he spoke, his voice grew softer and softer, and his eyes became harder and harder to keep open.

He was simply too tired today.

Classes during the day, Forging in the afternoon, and then so much excitement after coming home had left him feeling completely hollowed out. The little black hammer had rested in his palm for only a moment before he could no longer fight off sleep.

"I can't stay awake..." Tang Wulin gave an enormous yawn and relaxed his hand. His martial soul turned into dark light and sank back into his body. "I'm going to sleep. You should go to bed early too."

The moment he finished speaking, he toppled headfirst into his bedding.

Within moments, his breathing had settled into an even rhythm.

Na'er sat beside her little bed, watching him quietly.

The room was very quiet. Occasionally, the faint sound of the night wind brushing the eaves drifted in from outside. As she watched him, her gaze gradually grew unfocused, as though she had remembered something, or as though she couldn't grasp anything at all.

She tried hard to remember.

To remember who she was, where she had been before coming here, and the past that had been forgotten until only a hazy mist remained.

But the harder she thought, the more blurred her mind became.

Only after a long while did she gently lie down, slowly falling asleep amid that indescribable emptiness.

The night deepened.

The room was utterly still, even their breathing faint.

The door was pushed open very gently, and Tang Ziran slipped inside.

A small lamp was clipped to his shoulder, and he held the ointment Mang Tian had given him. He had intended to carefully apply it to his son's palms and arms while he slept, so the child wouldn't be in even more pain the next morning.

He first approached the bed and gently pulled back a corner of Tang Wulin's covers.

The little lamp's light fell across those arms.

Then Tang Ziran froze slightly.

"Huh..."

The sound escaped him in a low murmur.

The sight before him was completely different from what Lang Yue had seen when she came home.

Rather than remaining red and swollen as he had expected, most of the swelling in Tang Wulin's arms had already subsided. The obvious puffiness from earlier that day was now almost impossible to see, with only the faintest redness lingering on his skin.

Tang Ziran's brows knitted slightly, and he hurried to examine his son's hands.

At that look, the surprise in his eyes deepened.

The skin that had been rubbed raw on his palms had actually closed up as well. Though faint traces of tender new skin remained, there was no sign of bleeding or torn skin anywhere.

As though unwilling to believe it, he turned over the other hand to examine it too.

It was exactly the same.

Tang Ziran sat beside the bed without moving for a long time.

Lang Yue certainly wouldn't lie to him, and he couldn't have seen it wrong himself. That could only mean the swelling and wounds from the day, which should have lasted a day or two, had actually healed almost entirely on their own in a single short night.

This was no longer something that "healing quickly" could explain.

It was clearly some kind of recovery ability that far surpassed common sense.

Could it... have something to do with his martial soul?

The moment that thought arose, Tang Ziran instinctively half dismissed it.

An ordinary hammer-type Tool Martial Soul could never have such a healing effect. But if it wasn't his martial soul, what could it be?

He sat in silence for quite some time, his gaze shifting between his son's peacefully sleeping face and those little hands that showed almost no sign of injury. Just then, an exceedingly faint golden pattern quietly faded beneath the black hair covering Tang Wulin's temple.

Tang Ziran didn't see it.

He merely looked thoughtfully at the ointment in his hand. In the end, rather than opening it, he gently tucked the bottle back into his clothes.

For now, the best way to verify this wasn't to keep guessing.

It was to wait until Tang Wulin woke up the next morning.

Morning came quickly.

Before either adult came to wake him, Tang Wulin woke on his own.

He had slept deeply and soundly. Upon waking, his whole body felt indescribably light and refreshed, as though yesterday's soreness and exhaustion had been quietly washed away during the night. His arms and palms, too, felt far more comfortable than they had before he fell asleep.

He rolled out of bed, washed up by himself, then quietly hurried to the kitchen as usual to help his mother set out the bowls and chopsticks.

The sight of her son entering first warmed Lang Yue's heart. Then she immediately remembered his little hands, covered in wounds the day before, and her heart ached again.

"Linlin," she said, hurrying over, "do your arms still hurt? What about your hands? Let Mommy see."

Tang Wulin paused, instinctively raising his arms.

Huh?

It seems... they really don't hurt anymore.

He swung his arms where he stood, then clenched his fists. The confusion on his face quickly turned to delighted surprise.

"I don't seem to feel anything!" he said in disbelief. "Mommy, it really doesn't hurt anymore. Before I went to sleep last night, I still felt like I couldn't lift them."

As he spoke, he instinctively waved his hands.

Not only did they no longer hurt, he even vaguely felt that his arms were a little stronger than yesterday, as though that bout of hammering, which had exhausted him until he could barely stand, hadn't drained his strength but instead hammered something deeper within him awake.

Lang Yue immediately breathed a sigh of relief, and a smile finally returned to her face.

"It looks like the medicine Uncle Mang Tian gave you really works," she said gently. "After you fell asleep last night, Daddy went into your room and applied it."

At the kitchen doorway, Tang Ziran, who had just entered, paused almost imperceptibly.

He hadn't applied the medicine.

But as he looked at his son's little hands, now fully restored, and his visibly relaxed expression, the suspicion in his heart grew ever clearer.

After awakening his martial soul, this child's body truly had become different from that of ordinary children.

It wasn't simply greater strength.

Even his ability to recover had been enhanced along with it.

This discovery didn't immediately make Tang Ziran happy. Instead, it first stirred a faint unease in his heart, because this "difference" had appeared too clearly and too quickly. But that unease only flickered through his heart for a moment before he suppressed it.

At least for now, this change seemed good for Wulin.

As for anything deeper... he could only keep watching as time went on.

Breakfast was soon laid out on the table.

There was hot porridge, steamed flatbread, a little pickled vegetables, and fried eggs. For the Tang family, this already counted as quite a respectable breakfast. And the two little ones' appetites once again proved why the household's rice and flour had seemed to disappear so quickly lately.

The atmosphere at the table was unusually relaxed.

Na'er remained a girl of few words, but quietly handed Tang Wulin his spoon. As Tang Wulin ate, he talked about school, about the Mang Tian Workshop, and about how he wanted to keep listening to his teacher explain Soul Master knowledge today.

"Daddy, hurry and take me to school." Tang Wulin finished his last mouthful of porridge and looked up, his eyes sparkling. "We should be learning more Soul Master knowledge today. Oh, right—"

At that, he suddenly slapped his forehead.

"Oh no, I was so sleepy last night that I nearly forgot to finish my meditation properly. You have to remind me when I come home today!"

Watching his son brimming with energy, Tang Ziran felt the heavy thoughts weighing on his heart ease a little.

"All right," he agreed with a smile.

Tang Wulin immediately clenched his little fists, his bright black eyes filled with earnestness and eager anticipation.

"I, Tang Wulin, will become a powerful Soul Master!"

His declaration rang out, loud and resolute.

And in this little house, which was far from spacious, that childish declaration carried remarkable strength. Because at that moment, everyone could hear that these were not merely a six-year-old child's empty boasts.

He truly was moving forward, even as he endured hardship.