Spirit Pagoda

"If I left one day, would you miss me?"

The sea breeze stirred Na'er's short silver hair. She tilted her head up, her large purple eyes exceptionally clear beneath the stars and moon. When she spoke those words, her voice was soft, so soft it was almost drowned out by the waves.

Tang Wulin froze for a moment.

"Why would you leave?" he asked instinctively.

Na'er puffed out her cheeks slightly, seemingly annoyed that he had missed her point.

"I only said if."

Tang Wulin looked at her, thought for a moment, and answered earnestly.

"Of course I'd miss you," he said. "So, so much."

At that, he couldn't help adding:

"You're the only little sister I have."

He had wanted to say more, but when he took a closer look at her in the moonlight, his eyes suddenly widened in surprise.

"Huh, Na'er, have you grown taller?" He instinctively reached out to measure her height. "You only came up to here before. Now you're almost up to my nose."

Na'er didn't respond to that. She simply watched him quietly.

After a moment, she said softly:

"I'd miss you too. So, so much."

As she spoke, a faint veil of mist seemed to cover her eyes, as though the sea breeze might scatter it at any moment.

The sight of her left Tang Wulin's chest feeling inexplicably tight. Instinctively, he raised a hand and gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"Why do you keep saying strange things today?" He deliberately smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "We're together every day. What's there to miss? Once I go to the Intermediate Academy, I'll talk to Mom and Dad and see if you can come along too. Anyway, wherever we are, your big brother will protect you."

He spoke with complete conviction, as though he were promising something perfectly natural.

Na'er didn't answer right away. She simply followed his movement and gently rested her head against his shoulder.

Tang Wulin paused, but he didn't pull away. He merely steadied his shoulder instinctively, as though he truly feared she might find it uncomfortable.

The wind by the sea was cool that night, and the moonlight was bright.

In the distance, waves washed ashore one after another, leaving the pebble beach covered in damp traces of the receding tide. The two stood in the sea breeze for a while, neither speaking again.

Yet for some reason, an indescribable feeling stirred faintly in Tang Wulin's heart.

The next morning, Tang Wulin woke unusually early.

To be precise, he hadn't really slept soundly.

Whenever he thought of going to the Spirit Pagoda to choose a Soul Spirit that day, excitement and nervousness kept him wide awake. As soon as dawn began to break, he couldn't sleep any longer. He simply got up, washed, and dressed on his own, barely managing to eat even his usually beloved breakfast.

"For once, you're eating less today." Tang Ziran looked at the small amount of porridge left in his son's bowl and couldn't help smiling. "Looks like you're really having trouble keeping calm this time."

Sitting at the table, Tang Wulin immediately looked up at his father, his eyes full of barely contained eagerness.

"Dad, what kind of Soul Spirit do you think I'll be able to choose today?" he asked. "There are so many kinds of white ten-year Soul Spirits. What if none of them suits me?"

Tang Ziran's gaze softened as he watched his son.

"I really can't say," he said. "Choosing a Soul Spirit isn't just about what you want. It also depends on whether it suits your Martial Soul, your body, and your own instincts."

"But..." He paused, his tone growing more serious. "Whatever you choose today, you're already different from the child who first awakened his Martial Soul three years ago. You made it this far through your own efforts. That alone is enough to make me proud of you."

Warmth flooded Tang Wulin's heart, and he immediately nodded firmly.

"Yes!"

Na'er, sitting beside them, was as quiet as ever that day.

She kept her head lowered, sipping her porridge in small mouthfuls, her lashes cast down so far that it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. Only when Tang Wulin stood to leave did she raise her head.

"Big brother."

"Hm?" Tang Wulin looked at her.

"Everything... will go smoothly for you today," she said softly.

Her words were quiet, but earnest.

Tang Wulin froze briefly, then smiled.

"Of course," he said. "When I come back, I'll be an official One-Ring Soul Master."

After speaking, he instinctively raised his hand and ruffled Na'er's hair.

"Then your big brother will be even stronger."

Na'er didn't dodge. She simply watched him quietly, an indescribable emotion seeming to flicker gently in her purple eyes.

After they left home, Tang Wulin stayed ahead almost the entire way.

"Dad, hurry up."

"Dad, the Spirit Pagoda should be open by now, right?"

"Dad, do you think any of the white ten-year Soul Spirits are especially suited to hammer-type Tool Martial Souls?"

His questions never stopped, and his steps were so light it was as though he were walking on springs. Had Tang Ziran not known how much more composed than his peers the boy had become over the past few years, he might have thought his son had turned back into that six-year-old boy who had just awakened his Martial Soul.

But it was different, after all.

Back then, he had been excited because he had caught sight of a path.

Today, he was excited because he had walked that path himself, all the way to its threshold.

Tang Ziran followed his son at an unhurried pace, yet a faint trace of worry remained buried deep in his eyes.

It wasn't regret.

Nor was it unhappiness.

He simply understood better than Tang Wulin that choosing a Soul Spirit was never a matter of "bring enough money, and you'll definitely buy the perfect one." Even though they had scraped together seventy thousand Federation Credits and earned the right to choose a specific ordinary ten-year Soul Spirit, no one could thump their chest and guarantee beforehand that it would be suitable.

The greater the hope, the more painful the disappointment.

That was something adults thought about in advance.

Children always believed in the best possible outcome first.

The Spirit Pagoda stood in the center of Aolai City.

This seaside city was small to begin with, so even though the Spirit Pagoda was only a three-story branch of the lowest rank, it was already one of Aolai City's tallest and most conspicuous buildings. It had the standard octagonal tower structure, its subdued exterior looking solemn and cold in the morning light, as though it belonged to an entirely different world from the low houses in the surrounding commoner neighborhoods.

To the vast majority of ordinary people in Aolai City, it seemed more like a place that existed only in legends and stories.

To Tang Wulin, however, it was one of the two sacred places in his heart.

The other was Shrek Academy.

Only when he actually reached the entrance to the Spirit Pagoda did he suddenly realize he was nervous enough for his palms to sweat.

As though sensing his feelings, Tang Ziran gently patted his shoulder.

"Let's go in."

Tang Wulin took a deep breath, then nodded firmly.

Father and son entered the Spirit Pagoda one after the other.

As soon as they stepped inside, a coolness carrying faint scents of metal and medicinal preparations washed over them. The hall was spacious, its floor laid with marble bearing the Spirit Pagoda's emblem. Doors leading to different areas stood in neat rows along its eight sides. The whole space was so quiet that it felt almost empty. Only directly ahead was something resembling a reception counter, with a Spirit Transmitter in gray robes standing behind it.

Hearing their footsteps, the Spirit Transmitter looked up.

"What brings you here?"

His tone was neither welcoming nor particularly cold, merely the businesslike manner of someone accustomed to visitors.

Tang Ziran immediately stepped forward, his manner respectful.

"Hello, honored Spirit Transmitter. I've brought my son to purchase a Soul Spirit. He's already at level ten, and we'd like to look at white ten-year Soul Spirits today."

Only upon hearing the words "white ten-year Soul Spirits" did the Spirit Transmitter's indifferent expression shift slightly.

If they had come only for the cheapest random Soul Spirit, he probably wouldn't have bothered asking another question. But since they had specifically mentioned white ten-year Soul Spirits, it at least meant this commoner father and son weren't merely here to try their luck.

"What is the child's Martial Soul?" the Spirit Transmitter asked.

Tang Wulin immediately stepped forward and raised his right hand. Dark light flashed, and the Star-Sinking Hammer quietly appeared in his palm.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter glanced at it, his brows creasing almost imperceptibly.

Hammer-type Tool Martial Souls weren't uncommon.

But this one seemed far too ordinary.

Black, short, thick, and blunt, it lacked any of the edge or oppressive presence a top-tier Tool Martial Soul ought to possess. However he looked at it, it resembled an inconspicuous old implement. Yet for some reason, that brief glance gave the Spirit Transmitter a faint, inexplicable sense of something strange—the hammer was too heavy, so heavy that even the light around it seemed more weighed down than elsewhere.

He didn't reveal that impression, merely nodding indifferently.

"A hammer-type Tool Martial Soul. Then you haven't come here without any direction," he said. "The Aolai City branch offers seventy-three kinds of ordinary ten-year Soul Spirits for targeted selection, and even more random Soul Spirits. A random Soul Spirit costs only thirty thousand Federation Credits. White ten-year Soul Spirits, however, fall under targeted selection and cost seventy thousand."

At that, his gaze swept over father and son, as though checking whether they had heard the figure clearly.

Before Tang Ziran could speak, Tang Wulin took the cloth pouch he had prepared from inside his clothes.

Without a word, he set the stack of money he had counted countless times firmly on the counter.

"We brought enough," he said.

His voice wasn't loud, but it was steady.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter glanced down, then looked back up at the boy before him, who was only nine years old. The boy wasn't short, his eyes were dark and bright, and his expression lacked the obvious timidity and panic commoner children usually showed upon first entering the Spirit Pagoda. Instead, he possessed a calmness that didn't quite match his age.

The Spirit Transmitter's gaze lingered on the old cloth pouch and the boy's hands.

Those hands weren't pale and tender. A thin layer of calluses covered his palms and knuckles. Clearly, he hadn't grown up pampered.

He had seen many families come to purchase white Soul Spirits. Usually, the parents prepared everything, while the children needed only to be excited and expectant. Yet this child had a different air about him, as though most of the weight of those seventy thousand Federation Credits had truly rested upon his own bones.

Because of that, the Spirit Transmitter's tone softened a little.

"In that case, we'll register your information first," he said. "Then I'll take you to the white Soul Spirit selection area. However, there's something you need to understand beforehand. Targeted selection doesn't mean you can name any Soul Spirit you please and take it away. Whether you can ultimately fuse with it still depends on its compatibility with you."

Tang Ziran nodded immediately.

"Of course, we understand. Sorry for the trouble."

The Spirit Transmitter took a registration form from behind the counter, then motioned for Tang Wulin to reveal his Martial Soul again. At the same time, he had an auxiliary soul device beside him verify his soul power level.

A moment later, the faint white light in the testing orb stabilized.

Level ten.

Looking at the reading, the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter finally grew a little more serious.

Level ten wasn't unusual, but a nine-year-old arriving with a clear goal and enough money to choose his first Soul Spirit was already a rare sight in a place like Aolai City.

"Follow me," he said.

He stepped out from behind the counter and led Tang Ziran and Tang Wulin across the hall toward a heavy metal door leading farther inside. Beyond it lay a corridor noticeably quieter than the outer hall. Faint soul-guiding patterns were engraved on the floor and walls, and the fluctuations of formations and restrictions could just barely be felt.

Walking beside his father, Tang Wulin felt his heartbeat gradually quicken.

He knew that once he passed through this corridor, he would truly see the Spirit Pagoda's Soul Spirits.

What would they look like?

Would there really be one waiting ahead that suited me best?

Or did I actually have no idea what I truly needed?

All sorts of thoughts flashed through his mind. Yet when he instinctively clenched his hand, the familiar heaviness deep in his palm suddenly steadied him somewhat.

The Star-Sinking Hammer was still there.

It was very quiet.

Yet within that silence, it seemed to be telling him without a sound: keep moving forward.

At the end of the corridor, the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter stopped and pressed his hand against a sensor beside the door. With a low hum, the door before them slowly opened.

An aura completely different from that outside gently flowed out from within.

It smelled like plants, soil, metal, and the mingled breath of something alive.

The Spirit Transmitter stepped aside and said evenly:

"Go in."

"This is the white ten-year Soul Spirit selection area."