Heavy Silver Storage Rings

After Mang Tian finished speaking, the Forging room fell silent for a moment.

The furnace had gone out, but warmth still lingered in the iron workbench. Tang Wulin kept his head lowered, studying the Star-Sinking Hammer in his palm. The silvery-gray tidal patterns buried deep within its black body flickered in and out of sight beneath the light. They had not made the hammer more ostentatious. Instead, they made it heavier, quieter, more like something that was never meant to reveal its secrets easily.

He still had so many questions.

What else would this hammer become? Would those Tide-like patterns someday bring other changes besides Stacked Hammers? And if he truly managed to blend his first Soul Skill completely into his Forging one day, when that hammer fell, would the metal hear the ring of a hammer, or the roar of the tide?

But Mang Tian clearly had no intention of letting him stand there lost in thought.

He turned his hand over, and two dull gray metal rings appeared in his palm.

Neither ring was large. Their color was dark and muted, and at first glance they looked utterly unremarkable, no different from the rough bracelets sold in ordinary shops. But a closer look revealed extremely thin bands, perfectly rounded edges, and a layer of exceptionally fine lines pressed into their inner surfaces. Those were not forging patterns. They looked more like formation pathways engraved bit by bit, so fine they almost seemed to sink into the metal's pores.

"Here. Take these," Mang Tian said.

Tang Wulin accepted them instinctively.

The instant they touched his hand, his wrist dipped slightly.

They were not light.

And their heaviness was unlike that of ordinary metal. It was not dead weight, but a steady downward pull, as though pressing down came naturally to them.

"These are..." Tang Wulin looked down, a flicker passing through his eyes. "Soul Tools?"

He had studied the fundamentals of Soul Masters at Red Mountain Academy for three years. His knowledge was not extensive, but he could at least recognize things like these. The incredibly fine Soul Tool patterns pressed into their inner surfaces, in particular, were beyond ordinary craftsmanship.

Mang Tian gave a quiet grunt of assent.

"Heavy silver storage rings. I made them for practice years ago. They aren't worth much."

Tang Wulin froze.

Coming from someone else, "They aren't worth much" might not have meant anything. Coming from Mang Tian, however, it was all the harder to believe.

Storage Soul Tools.

These were not things one could simply pick up from a roadside stall. They did not rely on tremendous destructive power, yet their manufacture allowed the fewest shortcuts, because even their most basic storage formations required more than Forging skills alone.

"Teacher, these are too valuable." Tang Wulin almost instinctively tried to return them. "I can't accept them."

"Can't accept them?" Mang Tian glanced at him. "That hammer you just bound to yourself is already worth more than both these rings. What, you can handle Thousand Refinement, but not two lousy rings?"

Tang Wulin had no answer to that.

Mang Tian gave him no further chance to refuse. He simply caught Tang Wulin's left wrist and slipped one of the Heavy Silver Rings onto it.

The moment the ring touched his skin, it contracted slightly, as though it knew his measurements, and fitted snugly against the outside of his wrist bone. It was neither tight nor loose. It simply rested there heavily, adding another layer of weight to his wrist.

Then came his right hand.

Only after both Heavy Silver Rings were in place did Mang Tian withdraw his hands.

"These aren't just storage rings," he said. "Heavy Silver is naturally heavy. When I made them, I left some of that weight in them. Wearing them every day will help rein in that strength of yours that's shooting up too quickly."

"When you use them, they're Storage Soul Tools. When you don't, they're your training weights."

Tang Wulin looked down at his wrists, momentarily unable to speak.

However unremarkable the two rings looked, the weight and steadiness he felt when wearing them were utterly real. They did not feel like precious gifts too valuable to touch. Instead, they felt like care someone had thoughtfully prepared for him in advance, exactly suited to his needs.

As though he had seen through Tang Wulin's thoughts, Mang Tian spoke in the same cold, hard tone.

"Don't overthink it. You may not need a separate hammer now, but you can't go everywhere empty-handed forever. Metal stock, blueprints, work clothes, practice pieces, your things from the academy—which of those won't you need to carry? Besides, you can't keep that Martial Soul hammer on display all the time. Sometimes keeping something hidden isn't a bad thing."

He paused.

"Eastsea City isn't Aolai City. More people, more prying eyes. You'll have plenty of uses for these."

Only then did Tang Wulin slowly nod.

He raised his hands and examined the two Heavy Silver Rings. Dull gray and extremely understated, they drew almost no attention on his wrists. Yet the longer he looked, the more clearly he understood that the word "gift" alone could not encompass what they were.

"Teacher..." he began softly.

"Enough," Mang Tian interrupted. "If you ever truly manage to repay a great kindness without empty thanks, tell me then. For now, learn how to use them."

Tang Wulin immediately shut his mouth.

He knew what his teacher was like. The more he cared, the harsher his words became. If Tang Wulin kept pursuing the subject, the next thing he heard might not be "learn how to use them," but "get out and stop being an eyesore."

"Channel your Soul Power into them. Not too much," Mang Tian said. "These don't have Soul Tool batteries. They rely on your own Soul Power to open and close. You're only rank eleven. Feeding them too much is a waste."

Tang Wulin nodded and followed his instructions.

First, he tried sending a thread of Soul Power through his meridians into the Heavy Silver Ring on his left wrist. The patterns inside it gave an incredibly faint glow, not dazzling at all, like a thin sheen of gray-silver water slipping along the metal's inner surface. Then, suddenly, a strange awareness appeared in Tang Wulin's mind.

He did not see it.

He simply "knew."

He knew there was a small, empty space inside the ring, perfectly square and quietly open, waiting for someone to put things into it.

"Just direct your intent inside," Mang Tian said beside him.

Tang Wulin looked around, then reached for an utterly ordinary piece of test metal beside the Forging bench.

He gently guided his Soul Power and shifted his focus.

The next instant, the metal wavered slightly in his palm and vanished without a sound.

Tang Wulin's eyes lit up.

He focused again and retrieved the test piece. The metal settled firmly into his palm, almost exactly where it had been before he stored it.

"Teacher, this is so convenient," he finally could not help saying.

Mang Tian glanced at him, and the corner of his mouth seemed to twitch ever so slightly.

"Obviously. Who would make something like this if it weren't convenient?"

Holding the test piece, Tang Wulin tried twice more. Only after he had thoroughly familiarized himself with that sensation did he suddenly seem to remember something and look up at Mang Tian.

"Teacher, since you can make these, doesn't that mean you're a Soul Engineer too?"

Even Tang Ziran instinctively looked up at that question.

Mang Tian, however, fell silent for a moment.

The silence did not last long, but it seemed to press an invisible weight into the air. Only after a while did he speak quietly.

"I know a little."

"But I'm unwilling to call myself a Soul Engineer."

Tang Wulin blinked.

"Why?"

"Because that isn't my path." Mang Tian's voice was level. "Soul Engineers focus on formation pathways, constructs, and the logic of energy. The higher they go, the more they rely on deduction and combinations. I can make some practical little things because, once your Forging reaches this level, you inevitably brush against the edges of that field. But if I truly tried to follow that path far, I couldn't."

His gaze settled on Tang Wulin, taking on a rare degree of earnestness.

"You'll gradually understand. You can't greedily chase every path. Try to grasp everything, and you may end up holding nothing firmly."

"What matters most to you right now is still Soul Power."

"Whether it's Forging or being a Soul Master, once you reach the higher levels, it ultimately comes down to your foundation in Soul Power. No matter how strong you are, your strength has limits. But if your Soul Power doesn't advance, however heavy your hammer becomes, you'll go no further than this."

Tang Wulin listened quietly.

Mang Tian continued.

"And the next time you fuse with a Soul Spirit, don't do what you did the first time and think only of getting over the threshold."

His voice was not loud, but it had become noticeably more serious.

"Now that this hammer of yours has begun to mutate, you must be even more careful choosing your second Soul Spirit. Choose well, and there's a road ahead. Choose badly, and you could end up holding back everything you've worked so hard to forge."

This time, Tang Wulin answered quickly and solemnly.

"I'll remember, Teacher."

Mang Tian nodded.

"All right, go home. Pack whatever needs packing. Before you leave for Eastsea City, remember to come see me again."

"Yes."

Tang Wulin said nothing more. He simply made sure the two Heavy Silver Rings were securely in place and bowed deeply to Mang Tian.

This time, Mang Tian neither avoided the bow nor scolded him for being sentimental. As Tang Wulin bent forward, his gaze merely rested lightly on the boy's shoulders and back.

By the time Tang Wulin straightened, that look had faded again, as though nothing had happened.

On the way home, the night was quiet.

The wind in Aolai City always carried a little moisture from the sea. It brushed gently against their faces, yet somehow always managed to slowly settle the drifting thoughts in their hearts.

Tang Wulin barely spoke the entire way.

It was not because he was unhappy. Quite the opposite: his heart was so full that he did not know what to think about first.

Should he think about the Star-Sinking Hammer, now heavier and quieter, or that triple-layered hammer resonance?

Should he think about his teacher's words, "Your path will be different from other people's now," or the pair of Heavy Silver Rings on his wrists, so understated they were almost plain?

He merely raised his hands instinctively.

The two Heavy Silver Rings weighed against his wrist bones. They were not light, but to him now, that weight felt like a reminder, keeping him constantly aware that he had a hammer in his hands and a road ahead.

Everything was moving forward.

But the farther that road went, the less lightly he would travel it.

Tang Wulin was not afraid at all.

Because suddenly, he felt as though he was finally beginning to glimpse his future.

Only late into the night did the Tang family's little courtyard gradually grow quiet.

Lang Yue finished clearing the dishes and gently closed the kitchen door. Exhausted after the long day, Tang Wulin had fallen sound asleep soon after returning to his room. The Heavy Silver Rings on his wrists rested outside the edge of his quilt, his breathing deep and even. Since Na'er had left, he always seemed quieter in sleep than before, as though all the happiness, sadness, and words he refused to speak during the day could only be pressed into his dreams.

Tang Ziran stood by the window. By the faint moonlight outside, he watched his son's bedroom door for a long time before slowly letting out a breath.

"He was very happy today." Lang Yue came up behind him, keeping her voice soft.

"Yes." Tang Ziran nodded. "I haven't seen him this happy in a long time."

Lang Yue's eyes reddened slightly, but she still managed a faint smile.

"This child has had a hard lot in life, but in the end, he's still carved out a path for himself."

Tang Ziran did not answer.

He simply gazed at the door, his eyes heavy, his thoughts unreadable.

After a moment, Lang Yue asked softly, "Are you still thinking about those things?"

"I am," Tang Ziran admitted. "The more I think about them, the more I feel we can't delay any longer."

Lang Yue's fingers curled slightly.

Of course she knew what her husband meant by "those things." But over all these years, neither of them had truly lifted that covering, as though leaving the words unspoken would allow the past to remain buried in the past.

Now, however, things were different.

Tang Wulin was no longer that child who knew nothing.

He had awakened his Martial Soul, obtained a Soul Ring, and set foot on the path of a Soul Master. Now he had also revealed a gift for Forging that moved even Mang Tian. A child who had begun shining so soon would inevitably be seen by more people.

"I'm afraid," Lang Yue finally whispered.

"So am I," Tang Ziran said.

He spoke calmly, as though he had already repeated those words countless times in his heart.

But just then—

An extremely faint scrape of metal suddenly came from beyond the courtyard gate.

Tang Ziran's body instantly tensed.

It was not the wind rattling the gate ring, nor a neighbor accidentally brushing against the gate while returning home late. It was too faint, too controlled, as though someone was using an exceptionally restrained method to remind the people inside—

They had arrived.

Lang Yue's face instantly turned white.

Husband and wife looked at each other almost simultaneously, neither saying a word. But that single glance was enough for each to understand: the thing they least wanted to happen had finally come.

The next moment, the courtyard gate opened soundlessly.

Two dark figures entered, one behind the other.

They had not covered their faces or made any effort to conceal their silhouettes. Instead, they seemed utterly unafraid of being seen. Moonlight fell from the top of the wall, carving their outlines into something cold and sharp. The man in front wore a long, dark gray robe. His face held little expression, but his eyes were frighteningly still. The man behind him was noticeably taller, his right hand hanging at his side, a faint, cold glint of Soul Tool machinery showing between his fingers.

Tang Ziran stepped in front of Lang Yue.

"So you found us after all."

The man in front glanced at him, his tone as flat as though he were stating something long since settled.

"You've hidden for so many years. That should be enough."

Tang Ziran did not move, but his voice deepened.

"Now that you're in this city, don't disturb my son."

At that, the man gave the faintest laugh.

"Don't worry. We aren't here for him tonight."

Those words did not truly put Tang Ziran at ease.

He knew all too well that, now that they had appeared here, they could not possibly have merely "stopped by for a look."

"What do you want?" Lang Yue finally could not help asking. Her voice trembled, but she still kept it very low.

The man in front turned toward her. There was no malice in his eyes, only excessive composure.

"To take you away."

"If you leave quietly with us, this child won't wake tonight, nor will he know what happened."

"If you refuse—"

He paused there, his gaze returning to the bedroom door.

He did not finish the rest.

But the more he left unspoken, the colder their hearts grew.

Inside his sleeve, Tang Ziran's hand slowly clenched. Only after a long while did he speak. "Give us some time."

The courtyard fell silent.

The tall man in black behind the leader frowned slightly, apparently about to say something, but the leader raised a hand to stop him.

"How much?" he asked.

Tang Ziran looked at his son's bedroom door, his voice low and steady.

"One month."

The man studied him for a moment, as though weighing the matter.

"Too long."

Tang Ziran did not back down.

"Since you were able to come in quietly, that means you don't want to make a scene tonight. We won't run, either." He paused, his gaze finally returning to the visitor's face. "Let me leave a few things for my child, pack a couple of changes of clothes, and then... see him."

Those last words were very soft, yet they seemed to tear apart the breath Lang Yue had been holding to keep herself together. She abruptly turned her face away, tears rolling down soundlessly, but she still bit her lip hard, refusing to let even a single sob escape.

The man in front was silent for a moment before finally saying:

"Two weeks."

"In two weeks, you must come with us."

"If you alert him, those two weeks are forfeit."

Tang Ziran slowly nodded.

"All right."

The two men did not move far away. They merely stood in the shadows inside the courtyard gate, like two silent locks clamping the entire little courtyard shut.

Time suddenly grew very short.

So short that every breath seemed to leak away.

Lang Yue was the first to turn and enter the house. Her movements were light, so light they almost trembled. First, she took two sets of the simplest, most durable clothes from the cupboard, then carefully sorted what money they had at home, tucking half inside her clothes and weighing the other half down on the table.

Tang Ziran remained where he was, outside that door, and did not go in for a long time.

The room was very quiet.

Moonlight spilled in through the window. Tang Wulin slept deeply on his side, one hand resting outside the covers, the Heavy Silver Ring around his wrist giving off the faintest gray gleam in the dimness. The little bed that belonged to Na'er was still empty, its edge standing quietly there, like a stretch of old days that had not yet had time to truly pass.

Tang Ziran walked to the bedside, step by step, and crouched down.

He did not wake his son, nor did he dare touch him for too long. He merely reached out and tugged the corner of the quilt a little higher, ever so gently.

For the first time in his life, he realized his hands could tremble like this.

Linlin, he called silently in his heart.

There was no sound.

Only that aching heaviness in his chest, sinking until it hurt, pressing deeper inch by inch.

If he could, of course he would have wanted to wait until his child grew up, until there was still time to explain everything slowly, until this home could keep its light burning as it did now, however poor, however small.

But some things simply never waited for anyone to be ready.