The Soul Spirit That Approached on Its Own

The door at the back of the testing room slowly opened.

An aura utterly different from the one outside gently wafted out. It smelled like plants, earth, metal, wind, and the breath of some living creature, all mingled together.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter led father and son down an even quieter passage, finally stopping before a heavy silver door.

"We're here."

Beyond the door lay an immensely spacious circular hall.

There were no elaborate furnishings in the center of the hall. What stood out most were the rings upon rings of white Soul Spirit orbs suspended in midair. They varied in size, but all were enveloped in soft white light, floating quietly along circular tracks at different heights, like seeds sealed within light.

There were many of them.

At a glance, there were at least several dozen.

"This is the white ten-year Soul Spirit selection area open to the public at the Aolai City branch tower," the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter said slowly from beside them. "You qualify for targeted selection, so you won't go through the random draw process. In other words, everything you see here today is an ordinary ten-year Soul Spirit suitable for a rank-ten Soul Scholar to fuse with for his first Soul Ring."

At this point, his gaze settled on Tang Wulin.

"However, targeted selection doesn't mean you can simply stand here and point at whichever one you like. A truly suitable Soul Spirit will often respond to your Martial Soul, aura, and spiritual power. What you need to do is not choose with your eyes, but feel."

Tang Wulin nodded earnestly.

"Release your Martial Soul first," the Spirit Transmitter said.

Dark light flashed.

The Star-Sinking Hammer appeared soundlessly in Tang Wulin's palm.

It still looked just as unremarkable—short, blunt, and deeply black, without any of the sharpness or extravagance other tool Martial Souls displayed when they appeared. Yet the instant it materialized, several of the Soul Spirit orbs floating quietly in the hall gave a faint tremble.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter's brows immediately twitched.

He saw it clearly. That was not mere resonance stirred by fluctuations in Soul Power. It seemed more like some deeper form of "recognition."

"Continue," he said softly. "Don't rush to look with your eyes. Let your mind sink into stillness. Just as you do when you meditate, first feel your own Martial Soul, then sense the auras coming from these Soul Spirit orbs."

Tang Wulin closed his eyes as instructed.

For others, this might not have been easy. For him, however, calming his mind and sensing things was what he knew best.

Over the past three years, whether he was meditating at the academy or bringing his hammer down at the forging bench, he had really been doing the same thing—letting his heart settle, slowly bringing himself into the same rhythm as the hammer in his hand, the metal before him, and the Soul Power within his body.

Now, all he was doing was extending that feeling a little farther outward.

Soon, he "saw" those Soul Spirit orbs.

It was not sight in the true sense.

It was a hazy form of perception.

Some Soul Spirit orbs had light, lively auras, like shadows in the wind. Others were sharper, like a flash of cold light. A few felt full of strength, like heavy stones, thick horns, or the low, muffled breathing of some crawling beast as it lowered its body.

Tang Wulin slowly swept past those auras.

He did not hurry to approach any of them.

He knew very well that he was not looking for something that "seemed powerful," but the one that truly suited the Star-Sinking Hammer and himself.

One white Soul Spirit orb glowed faintly, a beetle-like sense of weight faintly emanating from within.

Another gave off a slightly sharp, hard-edged wildness, like the young of some horned beast.

There was also one bearing the coolness and toughness peculiar to reptilian Soul Spirits. It did not seem bad either.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter stood to one side, observing quietly.

He had originally thought that, on his first time choosing a Soul Spirit, this child would most likely be thrown into confusion by all these varied sensations. The result was quite the opposite. Tang Wulin was remarkably composed.

He neither chose at random nor showed any sign of being drawn away by an orb whose Soul Spirit gave off a stronger aura. Instead, he seemed to be carefully distinguishing them one by one.

Such composure did not match his age at all.

And just then—

Tang Wulin suddenly felt a faint jolt in his heart.

It was not that he had actively touched something. Rather, it felt as though something had reached back and gently touched him.

Very lightly.

Yet with exceptional clarity.

Instinctively, he followed that thread of sensation and "looked" toward it, then froze slightly.

Among the lowest ring of white Soul Spirit orbs, near a corner, an originally inconspicuous little orb was trembling ever so faintly.

The orb was very ordinary, its sheen even dimmer than that of several neighboring orbs. Yet the instant Tang Wulin directed his awareness toward it, an exceedingly slender shadow of dark-gold light seemed to flash through its interior.

Immediately afterward, that familiar feeling grew clearer.

Weight.

Steadiness.

Bearing a burden.

Quiet, yet frighteningly tenacious.

Tang Wulin's heart gave a sudden leap.

This is the one!

Almost immediately, he remembered the line of ants carrying their loads along a crack between the stones in the moonlit little garden the night before.

Just then, as though it could no longer contain itself, the Soul Spirit orb gently broke away from its original floating position and drifted toward Tang Wulin, slowly, little by little.

This time, not only Tang Wulin but also the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter and Tang Ziran froze.

"Spontaneous resonance?" the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter blurted softly, clear surprise flashing through his eyes.

Soul Spirits that approached Soul Masters on their own were not unheard of.

But in the white ten-year Soul Spirit area of a place like Aolai City, they were certainly uncommon.

Moreover, it was not merely moving a little closer. It was very clearly coming straight toward Tang Wulin.

The white Soul Spirit orb slowly stopped before Tang Wulin, hovering about a foot from his chest. White light flowed faintly inside it. Within that light, the image of an exceedingly tiny ant, dark gold all over with a faint, weighty sheen, rested quietly against the inner wall, as though "looking" at him.

Tang Wulin opened his eyes.

His breathing faltered noticeably.

"Spirit Transmitter, sir, what Soul Spirit is this?"

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter did not answer at once. Instead, he first took two steps closer and examined the orb carefully. The surprise in his eyes soon deepened.

"To think it's this one..."

"What's wrong with it?" Tang Ziran could not help asking.

The Spirit Transmitter raised his head and said slowly:

"This is a very rare variety in the white ten-year Soul Spirit area. Strictly speaking, it belongs to the strength branch of ant-type Soul Spirits. Since its age is low, it generally isn't very popular. Many children choosing their first Soul Spirit prefer ones that look more imposing and have more striking appearances."

As he spoke, his gaze settled once again on the tiny dark-gold ant's image, and his tone unconsciously grew more serious.

"But its advantages are very clear—strength, load-bearing ability, stability, and toughness. It is especially suitable for Soul Masters following a path of pure strength or heavy strikes."

"More importantly, it carries a faint trace of the Thousand-Jun Ant lineage."

"Thousand-Jun Ant?" Tang Wulin instinctively repeated the name.

For some reason, the moment he heard those words, it felt as though something had gently struck his heart.

It was not familiarity.

Rather, it was a sense of profound weight he could neither describe nor explain.

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter nodded.

"It is only a very faint trace of that bloodline, nowhere near a true high-tier Thousand-Jun Ant Soul Spirit. But even that trace is enough to make it stand out among Soul Spirits of the same level. It's just... normally, it is very dormant. In all the time I've been here, this is the first time I've seen it leave its track on its own to approach a child."

As he spoke, he could not help looking once more at the Star-Sinking Hammer in Tang Wulin's hand.

By now, however reluctant he might have been to read more into it, he had to admit that this child's Martial Soul was probably far less ordinary than its appearance suggested.

Standing beside them, Tang Ziran also felt his heart stir.

An ant.

If he had only heard about it from someone else, his first impression would probably have been that it was ordinary, perhaps even rather shabby. But the moment this Spirit Transmitter mentioned "strength branch, load-bearing ability, stability, and heavy strikes," he immediately realized that it unexpectedly fit the path Wulin was currently taking.

Tang Wulin himself did not dwell on all those complicated judgments.

He simply looked at the Soul Spirit orb before him, the strange sense of resonance in his heart growing stronger and stronger.

The Star-Sinking Hammer hung quietly in his hand.

And the little ant inside the Soul Spirit orb was quietly "looking" at him as well.

One was weighty; the other was steady.

One seemed to pin down the stars; the other seemed to shoulder a mountain.

For some reason, Tang Wulin suddenly felt that it was very much like him.

Both were unremarkable.

Neither was valued at first glance.

Yet both concealed a strength that refused to bend.

"Spirit Transmitter, sir," he said, drawing a soft breath without ever taking his eyes off the Soul Spirit orb, "would it be suitable if I chose this one?"

The gray-robed Spirit Transmitter fell silent for a moment, then finally nodded.

"Very suitable."

"Compared with those better-looking white Soul Spirits, it may not stand out as much. But in terms of compatibility with your hammer-type tool Martial Soul alone, it is certainly among the best choices."

He paused, then added:

"Besides, you weren't the one who picked it."

"It approached you on its own."

As those words fell, Tang Wulin suddenly felt warmth bloom in his chest.

That's right.

It wasn't that I happened to take a liking to it.

It came to me first.

He lowered his head, looking at the Star-Sinking Hammer in his hand, then at the Soul Spirit orb floating quietly before him. An utterly natural certainty suddenly arose in his heart.

This is the one.

Then he raised his head, his gaze truly settling for the first time.

"Dad," he called softly.

Tang Ziran looked at his son and nodded.

"Decide for yourself."

Tang Wulin murmured his assent.

Then he turned to the gray-robed Spirit Transmitter and said earnestly:

"I choose this one."

The white Soul Spirit orb hovering before him trembled gently, as though it had understood his words.

Inside the orb, the tiny dark-gold ant slowly raised its forelegs and pressed them against the wall of light.

As though answering him.