Does your face still hurt?

Wu Changkong's office was tiny.

A desk, a chair, a bookcase, spotless windows and clean surfaces—there was almost nothing else. Once someone stepped inside, even their words seemed liable to hit the walls and bounce back.

Wu Changkong stood behind the desk and looked at Tang Wulin first.

"What was the deal with those hammers of yours?"

Tang Wulin answered honestly, "I've studied forging."

Wu Changkong's brows shifted slightly.

"Forging?" His voice remained cold. "You're a Soul Master. Why are you studying forging? A slow bird must take flight early to reach the forest first. You already started behind everyone else, yet you're dividing your time between other things. Don't you think you're wasting it?"

Tang Wulin lowered his head.

"But... lots of people say my martial soul looks ordinary, and my first soul spirit is only a ten-year ant-type soul spirit."

He paused, his voice growing quieter.

"I have to leave myself another path."

Wu Changkong cut him off.

"So you're planning to make forging your fallback?"

Tang Wulin said nothing.

"Nonsense," Wu Changkong said coldly. "I'm not against you learning forging. Forging trains your hands, your eyes, and your mind. It also trains rhythm and composure. Your ability to block those last few strikes from Xie Xie today had plenty to do with all the time you've spent swinging a hammer. But that doesn't mean you can use forging as an excuse."

He looked at Tang Wulin and said, emphasizing every word:

"Remember, you're my student. Until I declare you useless, you will buckle down and follow the path of a Soul Master."

Beside him, the corner of Xie Xie's mouth twitched.

Hadn't he just said they were both useless? How had it suddenly become 'until I declare you useless'?

But he didn't dare speak.

Tang Wulin answered