A level-eleven Soul Master

"I think... I know what it is."

The moment Tang Wulin finished speaking, the heat inside him, which had only just subsided, surged up again without warning.

It was not the brief shudder from before.

This time, it was deeper, heavier, and fiercer.

It was as though something had been held down at the very bottom all along, briefly startled awake when his first Soul Skill took shape. Now, following a hidden thread deep within his spine, it suddenly heaved upward.

Tang Wulin's entire body went rigid.

"Big brother?" Na'er immediately noticed something was wrong, and even her voice changed.

Tang Wulin wanted to tell her not to be afraid, but something seemed to block his throat, leaving him unable to make a sound. The next instant, that searing heat raced up his spine, swept through his back, shoulders, and neck, then crashed into every limb and bone.

Heat.

Heavier than on the day of his awakening, yet finer, too.

It was not a fire that swallowed him whole, but countless needles glowing with heat, driving themselves little by little into the gaps between his bones. Yet his mind remained painfully clear—clear enough to feel every inch of that scorching heat.

The Star-Sinking Hammer still hovered in his palm.

The white Soul Ring had yet to fade, trembling faintly with the violent fluctuations of his Soul Power. Deep within the hammer, Little Jun Ant suddenly froze as well.

Then the exceedingly faint golden lattice appeared again.

It first emerged silently beneath Tang Wulin's temples, like tiny, icy cracks, lighting up in layers beneath his skin before swiftly spreading down his neck. At the same time, beneath his clothes, a thin golden line seemed to ignite along the center of his spine, rising from his tailbone until it quietly met the golden lattice at his temples deep within the crown of his head.

This time, the gold was clearer than ever before.

It was not ostentatious, yet it carried an ancient chill that made the heart tremble.

Little Jun Ant had been resting on the hammer, but now those golden patterns spread over her inch by inch. His dark-gold shell trembled lightly, as though he instinctively wanted to retreat. In the end, however, he did not move back, merely freezing there as those pale golden threads seeped into the depths of his shell.

Tang Wulin could no longer hold on.

With a muffled groan, he tipped sideways and slid straight off the edge of the bed.

"Big brother!"

Na'er's face instantly went white. She rushed forward to catch him, but Tang Wulin's entire body was burning hot, like a piece of iron just pulled from a forge. The instant her hands touched him, she recoiled slightly from the frightening heat, then gritted her teeth and wrapped her arms around him again.

Footsteps soon sounded outside.

"What happened?" Lang Yue's voice reached them first, plainly panicked.

The door was pushed open.

The next moment, the couple saw Tang Wulin collapsed beside the bed.

"Wulin!"

Lang Yue practically threw herself toward him.

Tang Ziran crouched down at once as well and lifted his son into his arms. Tang Wulin's eyes were tightly shut, his forehead and neck covered in cold sweat, while the heat had steamed his collar damp. His brows were knotted tightly, making it clear he was suffering terribly.

"What's going on?" Lang Yue's voice trembled, and she was already beginning to lose her composure.

Na'er stood nearby, her face equally pale and her lips pressed tightly together, unable to say a word. She could feel that what had surged out of Tang Wulin's body just now was not merely the normal fluctuation following Soul Spirit fusion.

There was something deeper within it.

But she could not explain what it was.

Tang Ziran forced himself to stay calm, pressing a hand to Tang Wulin's forehead before checking his pulse.

His pulse was still steady.

He was still breathing.

He was simply frighteningly hot.

"Let's put him back on the bed first," he said quietly.

Together, the couple settled Tang Wulin back into bed, and Lang Yue immediately wrung out a cold towel to wipe his face. Yet that heat seemed to burn from within his very bones. Barely moments after she laid the towel on him, it was steamed warm again.

"Didn't they say the fusion went smoothly...?" Lang Yue's voice was already thick with tears. "How could this happen?"

Tang Ziran did not answer.

He did not know either.

Everything had been fine when they returned from the Spirit Pagoda that afternoon. Their son had even cheerfully told them how well Little Jun Ant suited the Star-Sinking Hammer. None of them had expected things to suddenly turn out like this that night.

Time crept by.

Tang Wulin never woke.

At times he burned with heat; at others, he trembled faintly. The delicate golden patterns deep beneath his temples flickered in and out of sight, occasionally revealing a glint of cold light beneath his black hair before vanishing again. No one truly saw them clearly, dismissing them as tricks of the flickering lamplight.

In the latter half of the night, the terrifying heat finally began to recede.

But another strange symptom emerged.

Tang Wulin's body began to tremble faintly, as though something were crawling outward through every limb and bone. The sensation was no longer heat, but a fine, dense tingling, making even his fingertips twitch. Yet he remained unconscious, unable to utter so much as a cry of pain. His brows only drew tighter, as though even in his dreams he could find no peace.

Na'er stayed beside the bed the entire time and did not go to sleep.

As she watched Tang Wulin, the bewilderment in her eyes deepened.

At some point, she had begun to feel as though she could sense his suffering too. It was not bodily pain, but an anguish scraped out little by little from the gaps between his bones, as though countless invisible little things were pushing outward, growing outward.

As dawn approached, Tang Wulin finally grew completely still.

The faintly flickering golden lattice sank back beneath his skin bit by bit, as though it had never appeared.

Yet he still did not wake.

The next day, Tang Wulin could go neither to school nor to the Mang Tian Workshop.

He slept heavily throughout the entire day, as though trapped in some deeper darkness. Lang Yue hardly dared leave the room and barely managed a few bites of food, repeatedly wiping her son's sweat, changing his clothes, and checking his forehead.

Tang Ziran, meanwhile, made two trips that morning.

One was to the academy to request leave.

The other was to the workshop, hoping to speak to Mang Tian in person. But by the time he arrived, Mang Tian had already called through the soul communicator, his tone as cold and hard as ever. He asked only one question: "Where is he?"

After a moment of silence, Tang Ziran told him what had happened.

The other end of the call fell silent for a moment.

"I'll come over later." With that single sentence, Mang Tian ended the call.

Sure enough, Mang Tian arrived toward evening.

The moment the tall, middle-aged man entered, the already oppressive atmosphere in the house grew heavier still. He offered no pleasantries and asked no further questions, going straight into the bedroom.

Tang Wulin was still asleep on the bed.

Mang Tian stood beside him for a long time, his gaze moving from his slightly pale face to his hair, damp from heavy sweating, then to the hands resting quietly outside the covers.

"This isn't normal after Soul Spirit fusion," he finally said in a low voice.

At those words, Lang Yue's eyes reddened again.

"Then he..."

Mang Tian did not answer immediately. Instead, he pressed Tang Wulin's shoulder, wrist, and the bones of his palm, then examined the fluctuations of Soul Power naturally spilling from his body. After a moment, his brows furrowed almost imperceptibly.

"It doesn't look like the fusion failed," he said.

"It's more like... something else swept through him again after the fusion."

At that, everyone in the room fell silent.

"What do you mean?" Tang Ziran asked gravely.

Mang Tian glanced at him but offered no further explanation.

Even he could not explain exactly what it was.

There had simply been something vaguely strange about this child's aura since yesterday. When he completed the fusion at the Spirit Pagoda that afternoon, that strangeness had still been suppressed by the normal fluctuations of Soul Spirit fusion. At night, however, it seemed as though something deeper had been fully stirred up.

Whatever the case, at least one thing was certain.

The Soul Power inside Tang Wulin was not in disarray. Instead, it was slowly, steadily growing stronger.

It was as though this ordeal was not destroying him, but forcing something to truly grow into his bones.

"Wait a little longer," was all Mang Tian finally said.

"If he still hasn't woken tonight, go to the Spirit Pagoda."

After darkness fully settled, Tang Wulin finally opened his eyes slowly.

His hearing returned first.

He could faintly hear the wind outside. The room was quiet, and somewhere farther away, there seemed to be the soft clink of a spatula against the edge of a bowl. Then his sense of touch gradually returned. The bedding beneath him was dry, and his clothes had been changed. They were no longer soaked and sticky as they had been the night before.

He lay quietly for a while before slowly sitting up.

There was no searing heat.

No tingling itch.

Those sensations that had nearly driven him mad last night were like a rainstorm that had completely passed, leaving only the faintest lingering trace deep within his body.

In their place was lightness.

Not a floating sensation, but a lightness that came from being washed anew and tightened afresh. Every inch of muscle and bone seemed to move more smoothly. Even his breathing was deeper and longer than before, filling his chest like a cool breeze.

Tang Wulin lowered his head and stared blankly at his hands.

The next moment, he instinctively circulated his Soul Power.

The power within him, which had already broken through, was noticeably stronger than yesterday. As it flowed through his meridians, it felt exceptionally solid, like a newly forged blank that had suddenly received several more hammer blows, making even his bones denser.

"Level eleven..."

Tang Wulin murmured the number almost soundlessly.

Even he was stunned for a moment.

This was not a guess.

It was an unmistakably clear sensation—his Soul Power had truly and firmly reached level eleven.

There was none of the instability of a barely achieved breakthrough. It was remarkably steady.

Tang Wulin instinctively stood and moved his arms.

There was not the slightest soreness.

Instead, he felt an indescribable ease of movement.

He tried clenching his fist, then raised his arm and casually punched forward.

Pop.

A very faint crack actually sounded in the air.

Tang Wulin startled himself.

He looked down at his fist, then at the empty air in front of him. After two stunned breaths, the shock in his eyes gradually melted into an incredulous brightness.

My body... has grown stronger again.

Before he could try a second time, the door was flung open.

"Wulin!"

Lang Yue was the first to rush inside.

The moment she saw her son had sat up, she seemed to suffer a violent tug before throwing herself forward and gathering him into her arms.

"You scared Mommy to death..." Her voice trembled, and by the end, she could no longer hold back her sobs.

Dazed by the embrace, Tang Wulin only then realized it was already dark outside.

That meant he had slept for an entire day and night.

"Mom..." He hurriedly wrapped his arms around her, his voice still a little hoarse. "I'm fine. I'm really fine."

Tang Ziran and Na'er followed her in, with Mang Tian standing in the doorway.

The lamp was lit, its warm yellow glow clearly illuminating the expression on every face.

There was unmistakable weariness beneath Tang Ziran's eyes, as though he had not truly sat down all day. Na'er stood beside him, lips pressed together, watching Tang Wulin without blinking. Mang Tian said nothing, simply standing there with a gaze more somber than usual.

Lang Yue drew Tang Wulin a little way out of her embrace and looked him up and down several times, as though she had to see for herself that her child was truly all right before she could breathe again.

"We won't be Soul Masters anymore," she suddenly said hoarsely. "Son, let's just live safely and peacefully from now on. Don't become a Soul Master, all right?"

Her words brought another moment of silence to the room.

Tang Wulin was startled at first, then smiled.

His smile was a little weak, but pure.

"Mom, I'm really fine," he said. "And... I think I'm more than just fine."

"What do you mean?" Tang Ziran asked immediately.

Tang Wulin looked down at his hands and slowly clenched his fists.

"My Soul Power increased," he said. "I should be at level eleven now."

"What?" Lang Yue had yet to grasp his meaning.

Mang Tian had already taken two steps forward.

"Release your Martial Soul," he said gravely.

Tang Wulin did not hesitate. He raised his right hand, and with a flash of black light, the Star-Sinking Hammer landed in his palm.

The moment the hammer appeared, even the air in the room seemed to grow a little heavier.

Its surface was still pitch-black, its form short, blunt, and heavy, but its aura was noticeably different from yesterday. The dark-gold patterns that had once been barely visible deep within it were much clearer now, like fine golden threads buried in iron. They were understated, yet one glance was enough to tell that it had become harder and more stable.

Then a pure white Soul Ring slowly rose.

Beyond the white Soul Ring, the fluctuations of Soul Power were quiet and solid, without the slightest sign of instability.

Mang Tian's expression changed at once.

This was not his first time seeing Tang Wulin's Martial Soul, but it was the first time he had felt so clearly that, after fusing with a Soul Spirit, this hammer seemed to have been forged anew by something deeper.

"Level eleven," he said slowly, his voice lower than usual. "And his foundation is very stable."

Only then did Tang Ziran finally release the breath he had been holding all day.

Na'er had been watching from the side all along. Only now did the corners of her lips curve ever so slightly. She seemed to have known it would turn out this way, yet only now did some of the bewilderment and unease deep in her eyes truly fade.

Still tearful, Lang Yue looked at the hammer, then at her son, as though she still could not quite believe it.

"You're really... all right now?"

Tang Wulin nodded.

"Really," he said.

As he spoke that word, the Star-Sinking Hammer in his palm trembled lightly, as though bearing witness for him.

Mang Tian's gaze lingered on the hammer for another moment before returning to Tang Wulin.

"What about your first Soul Skill?" he asked.

"I know what it is." Tang Wulin drew a gentle breath. When he raised his head, light had finally returned to his bright black eyes. "I figured it out last night."

Mang Tian watched him, and a little of the approval he usually kept buried deep finally surfaced in his eyes.

"Then show me."