Finally, enough

Tang Wulin felt almost weightless as he ran all the way home.

It was not because he was not tired.

Quite the opposite. After finishing that batch of parts at Mang Tian Workshop today, his arms still felt heavy, and his back still held the heat peculiar to Forging. But the blazing excitement in his heart overwhelmed all that fatigue, leaving his steps as light as if he were treading on the wind.

Three years.

Three whole years.

From the first time he stood before a forging bench at six until now, he had lost count of how many times he had swung the Star-Sinking Hammer, or how much sweat he had shed before the forge. Other children could play after school, fool around, or go home, finish their homework in peace, and rest. Almost every day, he had to take Na'er home first, then turn around and hurry to Mang Tian's workshop, where he stayed amid firelight and ringing metal until dark.

What had it all been for?

Hadn't it been for this very day?

He had already crossed the threshold of rank ten long ago.

To be precise, his Soul Power had settled firmly at rank ten half a year ago. But without a Soul Spirit, no matter how hard he cultivated, he could only remain outside the door, never truly entering the world of Soul Masters.

And during those six months, he had not bought the cheapest random Soul Spirit.

He had held back.

Because Mang Tian had said that he must not settle for just anything with his first Soul Spirit.

Because Dad had said that if he truly wanted to go far, he must not always think, "I'll make do for now."

So he had kept waiting.

He endured the frustration of reaching rank ten yet being unable to advance, while continuing to Forging, to save, and to tuck every last bit of money into that little iron box.

And now—

The moment had finally come.

"Dad! Mom! I'm home!"

Before he even reached the courtyard gate, Tang Wulin was already shouting at the top of his lungs, so loudly that even the woman hanging laundry next door leaned out to look.

There was soon movement inside.

"You silly boy, keep your voice down—" Lang Yue was only halfway through her sentence when her son rushed into the house like a gust of wind, his face overflowing with excitement.

Na'er was sitting at the table, taking tiny licks of a lollipop. At the sight of him, her purple eyes immediately lit up.

"Big brother," she guessed almost at once, "have you saved enough?"

"I've saved fifty thousand!"

Tang Wulin practically shouted it.

As soon as the words left his mouth, he pulled out the wages he had just received that day and laid them neatly on the table. Then, as though afraid they would not believe him, he dashed into his room, dragged the iron box he had used for years out from under the bed, carried it back to the living room, and set it on the table with a smack.

He lifted the lid. Inside were nothing but banknotes and coins.

Some were new, some old; there were large denominations and small change.

None of the individual amounts was much, but he had saved every last one himself, bit by bit.

"I'll count it for you."

Even his fingers trembled slightly as Tang Wulin spoke, whether from exhaustion or excitement, he could not tell.

"One hundred, two hundred, three hundred..."

He leaned over the table, counting the notes out one by one, his eyes astonishingly bright and his breathing noticeably quicker. With the lollipop still in her mouth, Na'er had already pulled over her little stool and sat obediently beside him to help count. Lang Yue came out of the kitchen with her hands still a little wet, while Tang Ziran happened to arrive home from work and push open the door. This was the scene that greeted them—

The little table beneath the light was covered in banknotes of every denomination.

And beside it, a child of only nine sat with his face flushed, counting his savings with an earnestness that was almost solemn.

"Fifty thousand one hundred."

"Fifty thousand two hundred..."

"Fifty thousand three hundred."

Tang Wulin finally stopped and looked up, his eyes so bright they almost shone.

"It really is fifty thousand!"

After saying it, he froze for a moment himself, as though only now did he truly believe he had actually made it this far.

Fifty thousand Federation Credits.

It was not a sum so extravagant that wealthy families would give it a second glance. But for a nine-year-old child, it carried the weight of more than a thousand days and nights, countless hammer blows, and countless moments of exhaustion and perseverance.

Looking at the money on the table, Tang Wulin felt something suddenly surge into his chest, burning hot, until even his eyes began to sting.

"I really saved it..." he murmured. "I really saved it."

Standing beside him, Lang Yue suddenly felt a sting in her nose.

Of course she knew how her son had spent these past three years.

And precisely because she knew, she understood all the more what this tableful of money meant.

It was not simply that "the child was capable."

It was that this child had taken all the time others spent playing, slacking off, and wheedling for affection, and forcibly turned it into hammer blows falling on a Forging bench.

Tang Ziran stood in the doorway and watched his son silently for a while, emotion slowly rising in his eyes until he could no longer hide it.

But Tang Wulin had not stopped yet.

Happy as he was, his head remained perfectly clear. After that first burst of joy, his gaze swept over the money on the table, and he suddenly grew a little quieter.

He had reached fifty thousand.

But he still needed another twenty thousand to buy a white ten-year Soul Spirit.

He had known about that twenty thousand all along.

It was just that, once he received his wages today, he had been so happy that he instinctively shouted, "I've saved fifty thousand!"

The room suddenly fell quiet.

Na'er was the first to notice the change, and she gently tugged at the hem of Tang Wulin's shirt.

"Big brother?" she called softly.

Tang Wulin looked down at the money on the table, first taking a deep breath, then making himself smile.

"It's fine," he said. "I'm only twenty thousand away from seventy thousand. A few more months of saving will go by quickly."

He was still smiling as he said it, but that smile was a little strained after all.

In the past, a few months would not have seemed long.

But now his Soul Power had been stuck at rank ten for a full six months. Every additional day of waiting was torment, as though he stood only one step away from becoming a "real Soul Master" yet could never cross that distance.

He had already shown remarkable patience.

But however patient he was, he was still only a nine-year-old child.

Just then, Tang Ziran suddenly walked over.

He did not speak right away. Instead, he bent down and tidied the scattered money on the table, his movements slow and steady. Only after smoothing the top few notes did he take an old cloth bundle from inside his clothes and set it before Tang Wulin.

"Open it and have a look," he said.

Tang Wulin paused, instinctively looking up at his father.

"Dad?"

"Open it," Tang Ziran repeated, his voice as calm as before.

Tang Wulin hesitated, but still reached out and untied the cloth bundle.

Inside was a neatly stacked pile of banknotes.

They were not particularly new, but someone had clearly stored them with great care, their edges and corners pressed perfectly straight.

One look left Tang Wulin staring blankly.

"This is..." His lips parted. Then, as though he had suddenly realized something, his eyes widened.

Tang Ziran looked at him and slowly said:

"There's twenty thousand here. Your mother and I have saved it for you, little by little, over these past few years."

The room was so quiet that even their breathing could be heard clearly.

Tang Wulin froze completely, his hands going still where they were.

"I originally thought that if you couldn't keep going partway through, we would keep this money and use it to find you another path later," Tang Ziran told his son, enunciating every word. "But it seems your mother and I worried too much."

"You've made it this far on your own." He rested his hand on the pile of money on the table. "This last twenty thousand isn't charity, and it isn't us walking the rest of the road for you. It's just Mom and Dad taking that final step to bring you to the threshold."

Beside them, Lang Yue's eyes had long since reddened.

She said nothing, only nodded gently.

That twenty thousand was what the two of them had scraped together over the years, saving it from between their teeth.

One fewer new piece of clothing, one fewer good meal; anything at home they could make do with, they made do with for the time being. It was not that she had never considered holding on to the money until her son truly could not keep going.

But looking at the tableful of banknotes before her, she suddenly felt that, however much she and her husband ached for him, they could not let all the hardships this child had already endured come to nothing.

Tang Wulin looked at the cloth bundle, then at the pile of money on the table that belonged to him. For a moment, he could not say a word.

Of course he was happy.

But beneath that happiness, what welled up even more strongly was an indescribable, aching warmth that clogged his throat.

All along, Mom and Dad had been saving for him too.

All along, through these three years, he had not been the only one striving to move forward.

He lowered his head and quickly turned his face slightly aside, as though afraid someone might see something.

But Na'er was close enough to notice the faint redness at the corners of his eyes.

She said nothing. She simply set down her unfinished lollipop, quietly reached out, and held Tang Wulin's hand where it rested at the edge of the table.

"Big brother," she called very softly.

That single call seemed to set the warmth in Tang Wulin's chest fully ablaze.

He drew a sharp breath, turned back, and tried to smile.

"Then..." His voice had grown a little hoarse. "Then that makes seventy thousand?"

"Yes." Tang Ziran nodded.

"We have enough for a white ten-year Soul Spirit."

Tang Wulin could no longer contain the joy on his face. He sprang up from his stool.

"We really have enough?!"

"We really do." Only then did Lang Yue walk over with a smile and reach out to ruffle his hair. "This time, you don't have to keep waiting."

Tang Wulin looked down at the money on the table, suddenly unsure whether to celebrate first or rush over and hug someone. In the end, he simply threw his arms around his father, then quickly turned and flung himself into his mother's embrace, so happy he almost felt he could fly.

"Dad, Mom, I can really go choose a Soul Spirit!"

"Yes."

"Yes, you really can."

That evening, the Tang household was livelier and warmer than it had ever been.

The two children still polished off every dish on the dinner table. Tang Wulin was so happy that he even had an extra half bowl of rice. Na'er ate with particular relish too, her eyes bright throughout, as though she could not have been happier for him.

But when night finally deepened and Tang Wulin lay back in bed, he found himself unable to sleep.

They had clearly gathered enough money.

He was clearly only one final step away from becoming a true One-Ring Soul Master.

Yet precisely because only that one step remained, he felt suspended in midair by some indescribable excitement, unable to come down or settle.

Na'er was already asleep in the little bed beside him.

She was still as restless in her sleep as ever, and at some point she had kicked half her blanket aside again. Tang Wulin sat up quietly and tucked it back around her, his movements as practiced as could be.

Moonlight spilled through the gap in the window and fell over Na'er's short silver hair, as though coating it in an exceedingly thin sheen of frost.

Tang Wulin watched her for a while, and another vague feeling of discomfort suddenly arose in his heart.

A few days ago, Mom had said that after a little more time, when he was a bit older, he could no longer share a room with Na'er. Then he would have to give this little room entirely to her and move to the living room to sleep.

It was perfectly normal.

But whenever he thought about no longer seeing her the moment he opened his eyes in the morning, Tang Wulin felt inexplicably uneasy.

He could not explain why himself.

Maybe... I'm just used to it.

At that thought, he sighed soundlessly and slipped quietly out of bed.

I'd better go out for a walk.

Otherwise, there's no way I'll settle down and meditate tonight.

The door opened softly, then closed softly, without disturbing anyone.

The moonlight was lovely. Aolai City was much quieter at night than during the day, and the breeze carried the cool dampness peculiar to the seaside. Tang Wulin followed the familiar path, and before he knew it, he had once again reached the little garden in the commoners' district.

This was where he had often brought Na'er to play when he was younger.

The garden was small, with a little patch of grass, a few blue-gray stones for people to sit on, and a path washed pale by the moonlight. The insects' scattered chirping was not noisy; instead, it made the surroundings seem even quieter.

Tang Wulin had only intended to come out for some fresh air, but as he reached those stones, his steps suddenly slowed.

For some reason, he felt that this place was especially quiet tonight.

It was not the quiet of emptiness, but as though... the whole night had sunk down, into the soil, into the cracks between the stones, into the wind, before settling little by little over him.

It was a strange feeling.

But he did not resist it.

On the contrary, the Star-Sinking Hammer within him seemed to slowly grow a little clearer in that stillness.

Following that feeling, Tang Wulin sat down cross-legged beside a blue-gray stone.

Not far away, a small column of ants marched neatly past a crack in the stone, carrying scraps they had found somewhere, one following another, quiet, Fortitude, and never stopping.

Tang Wulin watched them for a moment, and something inexplicably stirred in his heart, though he could not say what the feeling was.

The next moment, he instinctively closed his eyes.

Little by little, his breathing slowed.

The night breeze, the insects' chirping, the starlight, the moonlight, the soil, the blue-gray stones, and that heavy sense of strength within his body seemed to be slowly connecting somewhere unseen.

He needed no reminder from his teacher, nor any deliberate effort to grasp it.

Just like that, naturally, he sank little by little into meditation.