A fight

"My little sister embroidered that."

Tang Wulin raised his head. His voice was quiet, but heavy.

Zhou Changxi paid no heed to his words.

He stood there with his foot still on the corner of the quilt, his mouth curling upward, his expression full of impatience and provocation.

"So what if your little sister embroidered it?" He lifted his chin. "Let me tell you, I call the shots in this dorm. From now on, you—"

He never finished.

Tang Wulin had already charged at him.

He neither summoned his martial soul nor wasted a single movement. He simply stepped close and drove his right fist straight out. The instant his fist shot forward, it even tore a sharp, brief crack from the air.

Zhou Changxi had actually been guarding against him all along.

Seeing the punch coming straight at him, he immediately raised a hand to block, intending to slap it aside. But the moment his hand touched Tang Wulin's fist, his expression changed.

It was too heavy.

He could not budge it at all.

The next instant, Tang Wulin's fist slammed into his chest.

Bang!

A dull impact rang out.

The punch sent Zhou Changxi flying, his back crashing hard against the window frame. The dorm window had already been half open. With that collision, glass shattered across the floor, and he tumbled outside.

"Aah—!"

A scream immediately rose from downstairs.

For an instant, the dorm fell silent.

Yun Xiao sat on his bed, the book in his hands falling to the floor. He looked first at the empty window, then at Tang Wulin, who stood where he was with his fist still extended. His eyes were filled with astonishment.

Zhou Changxi was no ordinary child.

His martial soul was the Mighty Ape, and he was a rank-eleven battle soul master who usually threw his weight around among children his age. Yet now, without even activating his martial soul, Tang Wulin had blasted him out of the second floor with a single punch.

"Strong" could no longer explain this.

Tang Wulin seemed not to notice Yun Xiao's reaction at all.

He stood there, his chest heaving rapidly and his eyes red, his gaze still fixed on the quilt that had been trampled dirty on the floor. The gray footprint on that little flower was still there, making his heart tighten again and again.

Just then, a figure appeared in the dorm doorway.

The newcomer was slightly taller than them, with short brown hair, delicate features, and cold eyes. A luggage bag hung on his back. The moment he reached the doorway, he frowned—clothes, a quilt, and a washbasin lay scattered across the floor, the window was broken, someone was screaming outside, and the dorm was a complete wreck.

Tang Wulin looked up and recognized him too.

He was the boy from the station who had boarded the train under the protection of men in black.

The boy clearly recognized him as well, but his expression did not change. He merely gave him a cool glance, then looked down at the things blocking his feet and nudged aside an old garment lying on the floor.

The movement was not forceful.

Yet that single gesture snapped the taut string in Tang Wulin's mind.

"You want a beating too!"

Tang Wulin roared in anger and lunged at him.

The boy visibly froze for a moment, apparently not expecting someone to attack him head-on the instant he entered. But he reacted extremely quickly, shifting sideways to evade Tang Wulin's charge before driving his elbow backward into the junction of Tang Wulin's shoulder and back.

Bang!

The elbow sent Tang Wulin stumbling forward two steps, but his footing remained steady. Instead, he used his forward momentum, braced himself against the floor, and forcibly turned back around.

A flicker of surprise crossed the boy's eyes.

That blow had carried considerable force. An ordinary child struck by that elbow would have staggered back at least two steps, yet the one before him had barely paused.

By now, Tang Wulin was completely blinded by rage.

He never stopped to consider whether the other boy had done it deliberately, or whether he had mistaken him for someone else. All he could see was that little flower, trampled dirty, and Na'er sitting beside the bed before she left, embroidering it stitch by stitch.

He lunged again.

This time, the boy did not stand his ground. He ducked, pivoted, and circled behind Tang Wulin's flank. His movements were clean and crisp, without the slightest muddle or hesitation. Then he raised his leg and swept a kick straight toward the back of Tang Wulin's knee.

If that kick landed squarely, Tang Wulin would immediately drop to his knees.

But Tang Wulin reacted faster than his opponent expected.

His stance was already solid. The instant the kick caught his right leg, he used the momentum of his forward lunge to twist around, braced a palm against the edge of a bed, and forced his body back around, simultaneously driving a fist toward the side of the boy's face.

The boy raised an arm to block.

Smack!

Fist struck arm, and both of them retreated half a step.

The dorm was too cramped. Tables, beds, and scattered luggage were all packed together, leaving neither of them room to move freely. Yet precisely because of that, their close-range clashes were even fiercer.

Yun Xiao was utterly dumbfounded.

One was a new student who had just punched Zhou Changxi out of the building. The other was a mysterious boy who had forced Tang Wulin back the moment he entered. Neither would retreat, and neither looked inclined to reason first.

"Stop fighting!" he finally shouted.

But at that point, neither could listen.

The boy's brows furrowed too.

He had only wanted to enter the dorm, not cause trouble, but with Tang Wulin charging at him so recklessly, his expression turned cold as well.

"Are you insane?" he asked, his voice quiet but distinctly rude.

"Shut up!"

Tang Wulin had no desire to listen. He raised his right hand, and a white soul ring rose from beneath his feet.

The air in the dorm suddenly grew heavy.

The boy's gaze changed.

A tool soul master?

The next instant, a dark gleam flashed.

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

The moment the hammer appeared, the already tense atmosphere in the dorm grew heavier still. The hammer was not large and even looked rather ordinary, yet for some reason, its appearance brought an intense sense of oppression.

This time, the boy did not hesitate. With a turn of his right hand, a Short Dagger slid into his palm.

The dagger was short, but its edge gleamed brightly.

At the same time, a soul ring rose beneath his feet.

Yellow.

Yun Xiao's glasses nearly slipped off his nose.

A Yellow Soul Ring?

This boy, who was about their age, actually had a yellow hundred-year soul ring as his first soul ring?

But before he could digest that shock, Tang Wulin had already swung his hammer.

"First soul skill—Thousand-Weight Fall!"

The instant the hammer descended, the air in the dorm seemed to sink abruptly.

The boy had been ready to dodge, yet his body was forcibly slowed by half a beat. It was not that he lacked speed. Rather, as the hammer fell, the surrounding pressure suddenly intensified, as though even his footsteps had been weighed down.

His expression finally changed.

Was this a control effect?

But how could a hammer-type tool martial soul possess this kind of suppression?

There was no time to think. He flicked the Short Dagger upward, and his Yellow Soul Ring lit up simultaneously. A sharp golden line immediately sprang from the dagger's edge, cutting head-on toward the black hammerhead.

Clang—!

The dagger and hammer collided with an ear-piercing metallic ring.

The boy felt his wrist go numb, his entire arm sinking downward.

It was too heavy.

The weight behind that hammer blow was nothing like what a newly enrolled one-ring soul master should have been able to deliver.

Tang Wulin's strike did not smash all the way through either, but he gave his opponent no time to adjust. Turning his wrist, he swept the hammer sideways, driving it straight toward the boy's shoulder.

The boy twisted aside and narrowly dodged, but his back still scraped the edge of the bed frame.

"Are you ever going to stop?" he finally snapped coldly.

Tang Wulin did not answer. His hammer blows only grew heavier.

He no longer cared who his opponent was, or whether he had a hundred-year soul ring. All he knew was that these city people were each more hateful than the last. One stepped on his quilt, another kicked his belongings. Every one of them was rotten.

Bang!

This time, the Star-Sinking Hammer finally struck the boy squarely on his left shoulder.

The blow hurled him backward, his back slamming hard against the corner of the table with a dull thud. But he reacted extremely quickly. Using the recoil from the collision, he sprang back up, turned the dagger in his palm, and slashed backhanded toward Tang Wulin's wrist.

His aim was precise.

He was not trying to injure him, but to force him to release the hammer.

But the thing Tang Wulin now knew best was the hammer.

His right wrist sank, and the Star-Sinking Hammer pressed downward first. In that instant, the hammer in his palm seemed even heavier than before. As it descended, it carried a strange sensation of one layer of pressure piling upon another.

The first blow had only just made contact.

Then the second and third fell almost simultaneously.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The boy's expression changed drastically.

Stacked Hammers?

But before he could even finish that thought, the Short Dagger in his hand had been forcibly knocked aside, leaving his chest exposed.

The next instant, Tang Wulin's fist arrived.

Not his hammer-wielding right hand, but his left fist.

Bang—!

The punch landed solidly on the boy's face.