Learn forging?

After dinner, the house grew unusually quiet.

Na'er was so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open, and Lang Yue had taken her to wash up. Tang Wulin had also wanted to return to his room to meditate, but just as he stood, Tang Ziran stopped him.

"Wait a moment, Wulin."

"Hm?" Tang Wulin turned back, looking at his father in puzzlement.

Tang Ziran patted the chair beside him.

"Come, sit down. Dad has a few things to discuss with you."

Tang Wulin obediently walked over and sat down.

The light was not particularly bright, and its glow gave the little room an even warmer yellow tint. The small square table, which had been crowded with dishes during their meal, now held only a few washed bowls turned upside down. The house was small, the furniture old, and miscellaneous things awaiting repairs were piled in a corner. Tang Wulin had long grown used to this sight, yet today, for some reason, once his father's tone grew solemn, he suddenly felt that their home seemed quieter than usual, and a little smaller.

Tang Ziran did not speak immediately. Instead, he first looked at his son.

The six-year-old's eyes were still shining. Clearly, he was still immersed in the joy of "joining the Soul Master class," "learning to meditate," and "getting a little sister." But that was precisely what made Tang Ziran's next words so difficult to say.

After a brief silence, he finally spoke slowly.

"Son, Dad supports your wish to become a Soul Master. I remember everything you said today, too."

Tang Wulin immediately nodded hard.

"Yes! I want to become a Soul Master."

"Good," Tang Ziran said softly. "Then today, Dad needs to tell you about some of the practical realities ahead of time."

Tang Wulin blinked, and the lingering excitement on his face gradually gave way to seriousness.

"Cultivating as a Soul Master takes more than just having a Martial Soul and Soul Power." Tang Ziran looked at his son, speaking each word deliberately. "Once your Soul Power reaches rank ten, you have to fuse with a Soul Spirit to advance further. Soul Beasts are extremely rare now. Ordinary people can no longer obtain Soul Rings by hunting Soul Beasts the way they did long ago. For the vast majority of people, the only realistic option is to buy a Soul Spirit from the Spirit Pagoda."

Tang Wulin listened quietly without interrupting.

He had vaguely heard of such things in stories before, but he had never truly considered them problems he would have to face. In a six-year-old's heart, "becoming a Soul Master" was still mostly a dream—something radiant, something that set his blood alight, something he would surely accomplish one day in the future, rather than a reality that already had to be weighed in money.

Tang Ziran continued.

"The Spirit Pagoda doesn't give away its Soul Spirits. Unless someone has an exceptionally outstanding Martial Soul and cultivates so quickly that the Spirit Pagoda takes an interest in them, most Soul Masters have to buy their own. The first Soul Spirit might only be the lowest grade, but for a family like ours, it's still a great deal of money."

At this point, he paused.

The room grew even quieter.

Tang Wulin instinctively glanced toward the kitchen, then at the old kettle in the corner of the table, which they had used for many years. For the first time, he realized in a very concrete way that "money" was not merely a word his parents spoke. It was something that could truly stand in his path.

"Dad..." He opened his mouth and asked softly, "Is it very expensive?"

Tang Ziran smiled, but there was a trace of bitterness in that smile that he could not hide.

"For our family, very expensive."

He said it without emphasis, even calmly, yet to Tang Wulin's ears, it weighed more heavily on his heart than any harsh words could have.

His father was a mecha repairman, and his mother usually took care of the household. Their family had never been well-off. Now they had Na'er as well, and both his and Na'er's appetites had clearly grown much larger than before. Tang Wulin might have been young, but he was not thoughtless. Suddenly, he remembered their meals over the past few days—his mother always putting the best morsels into his bowl, his father always saying, "I'm not hungry. Have some more."

Before, he had only thought that it was his family's way of loving him.

But thinking about it now, it was not only love.

It was saving, too.

Tang Ziran saw every change in his son's expression. A faint ache stirred in his heart, but he still did not take his words back.

Because he knew that if this child truly wanted to walk the path of a Soul Master, he would have to understand reality a little earlier than other children his age.

"Dad isn't trying to frighten you," Tang Ziran said slowly. "And I'm not trying to make you give up. On the contrary, it's precisely because you want to walk this path that I need to tell you—if you truly want to become a powerful Soul Master, then in the future, you can't simply wait for others to prepare everything for you."

Tang Wulin raised his head.

"A man must learn to rely on himself." Tang Ziran looked at him, his tone steady and earnest. "Your mother and I will do our best to help you, but what we can give you will always be limited. The only person who can truly carry you farther is you."

Those words were spoken very softly, yet they imprinted themselves on Tang Wulin's heart at once.

Rely on myself.

He silently committed those words to memory.

"So," Tang Ziran continued, "Dad has thought of a path for you. I'm not asking you to start earning money right away, or to give up cultivating. I want you to start learning a skill now—something you can truly hold in your own hands."

"What skill?" Tang Wulin asked instinctively.

"Forging."

Tang Ziran's voice was steady as he spoke the word.

"Do you still remember Uncle Mang Tian?"

"I do." Tang Wulin nodded, and the image of that tall, fierce-looking, taciturn middle-aged man immediately appeared in his mind. "He's been to our house before."

"Your Uncle Mang Tian is a very skilled blacksmith," Tang Ziran said. "I told him about our family's situation, and mentioned your Martial Soul, too. At first, he wasn't very willing to take in a child this young, but in the end, he agreed to let you give it a try."

At this, Tang Wulin's eyes suddenly brightened.

"Really?"

Tang Ziran nodded.

"Two hours every day. At first, you'll learn, watch, and try things out. If you're truly suited to it, you'll gradually pick things up. Even if your progress as a Soul Master is slow later on, at least you'll already have a trade you can rely on to earn your living."

He paused briefly, his gaze settling on his son's face.

"Of course, forging is very hard work. Far harder than you imagine right now. You're still young, and Dad won't force you to learn it. But if you want to go, you need to understand this—you're not learning it for fun, or to avoid cultivating. You're learning it so that you'll have what it takes to keep moving forward in the future."

Tang Wulin grew quiet.

He did not answer immediately as he had when declaring, "I want to become a Soul Master." Instead, he lowered his head and studied his hand seriously.

That hand was fair, clean, and small. No matter how he looked at it, it did not seem like a hand that could hammer iron or endure hardship. Yet his Martial Soul involuntarily appeared in his mind—that little black hammer, weighing heavily in his palm, ordinary and ponderous, yet somehow reassuring.

If I really learn forging...

Will I have to rely on it?

At that thought, Tang Wulin suddenly raised his head, his gaze even more earnest than before.

"Dad, I'll go," he said.

Tang Ziran was taken aback.

"Have you thought it through?"

"Yes." Tang Wulin nodded firmly. "You just said that if I want to become a powerful Soul Master, I have to learn to rely on myself. I want to be a Soul Master, so I'm willing to learn."

He paused, then added with great seriousness:

"Besides, I think my hammer... might really be useful for this."

Those words caught Tang Ziran off guard.

But on closer thought, the idea did seem to have some merit.

Although Tang Wulin's Martial Soul looked ordinary, it was unusually heavy, clearly unlike a typical tool-type Martial Soul. As for whether it was suited to forging, it might not be a bad fit at all.

"All right." Tang Ziran nodded slowly. "Then give it a try first. Remember, you're trying it, not forcing yourself through it. If you feel you can't bear it, you can stop at any time and tell Dad."

"Okay!"

The moment Tang Wulin agreed, he sprang up from his chair. There was not the slightest fear on his face; instead, he was brimming with eager anticipation.

To him, "learning forging" was not a burden. It was another way to grow stronger, another way to draw closer to his future path as a Soul Master.

He happily ran back to his room.

Once the door had gently closed and the house had fallen quiet again, a drop of warm liquid suddenly landed on Tang Ziran's shoulder.

He turned and saw that Lang Yue had come to stand behind him at some point. Her eyes were red, filled with an anguish she could not suppress.

"Wulin is still so little..." Her voice trembled. "How can you bear to let him suffer like this? We could save a little more, and I could find some work. It's not as if we couldn't save up the money at all."

Tang Ziran looked at his wife and remained silent for a moment before sighing softly.

"I know your heart aches. Mine does, too," he said in a low voice. "But precisely because it aches, we can't keep him sheltered in our arms for his entire life."

He looked up toward his son's door, his gaze holding a tenderness he could not conceal, along with a profound helplessness.

"In this life, there are only so many things we can shield him from. What if one day we can no longer protect him?"

Lang Yue froze.

"Forging isn't just about learning a trade," Tang Ziran continued. "It's also about teaching him early how to stand on his own feet. If he truly has the talent, then at least he won't be so easily hemmed in by others in the future. If he doesn't, he'll simply endure a little hardship and temper his character. That's better than reaching a crisis someday without knowing how to do anything."

As he spoke, his voice gradually lowered.

"Besides... I keep feeling that Wulin's Martial Soul isn't simple."

"You saw it, too. His hammer isn't like an ordinary hammer Martial Soul. If he can truly make some headway in forging, perhaps it will mean more to him than merely learning a way to earn money."

Lang Yue bit her lip and said nothing more, but her tears fell in the end.

Of course she understood that her husband was right.

But understanding and not feeling heartache had never been the same thing.

Early the next morning, Tang Wulin went to school as cheerfully as ever.

The material the teacher covered in their academic lessons that day was not particularly difficult. Tang Wulin was clever to begin with and listened attentively. Not only did he answer questions in a clear, ringing voice, but the teacher even praised him twice.

When school ended, he walked out through the gates with his schoolbag on his back and immediately spotted Lang Yue standing outside.

"Mom?" He was startled at first, then his eyes lit up. "Why did you come to pick me up? Where's Na'er?"

Lang Yue hurried over and gently hugged her son, that unconcealable ache surfacing in her eyes again.

"Na'er is at home," she said softly. "Mom is taking you to Uncle Mang Tian's today."

Tang Wulin immediately nodded.

"I remember!"

Lang Yue crouched down, looking at her son's little face, which still bore the innocence of childhood, and asked softly:

"Have you really made up your mind? Forging is hard. If you can't keep going, you mustn't force yourself."

Tang Wulin's little face grew solemn, his tone even firmer than it had been yesterday.

"I've made up my mind," he said. "Dad said a man must learn to rely on himself. In the future, I want to earn my own money to buy Soul Spirits. I can't wait for you to figure everything out for me."

Hearing this, Lang Yue felt a sudden sting in her nose.

She fought back her tears and merely reached out to stroke her son's cheek gently.

"All right," she said quietly. "Then let's go."

Aolai City was not large. After walking for a little over twenty minutes, mother and son reached their destination.

It was a small storefront with a somewhat worn exterior. Its sign bore a few unassuming words:

Mang Tian Workshop.

Before they even reached the door, the distinctive smell of metal and machine oil washed over them.

Tang Wulin blinked. He felt that this place was rather different from the "workshop" he had imagined—run-down, yet carrying an indescribable sense of weight.

Lang Yue stepped forward and rang the doorbell.

A moment later, the door opened.

Mang Tian was still the same tall, dark-skinned man with a full beard. Simply standing there, he possessed an imposing presence without needing to show any anger.

"You're here," he said in a deep voice, his gaze passing over Lang Yue before settling on Tang Wulin.

Tang Wulin immediately greeted him with proper respect.

"Uncle Mang Tian."

Mang Tian gave a slight nod, his face still largely expressionless.

"You can head home first. Come back for him in two hours."

Lang Yue looked at her son reluctantly. Her lips moved, as though she wanted to give him a few more reminders, but in the end, she gritted her teeth and swallowed all her words.

"Sorry for the trouble, Brother Mang Tian."

With that, she lowered her head to look at her son again.

"Listen to Uncle Mang Tian, and don't push yourself."

"Yes!" Tang Wulin nodded earnestly.

Only after his mother had left did Mang Tian turn and walk inside.

"Follow me."

"Okay."

Tang Wulin immediately hurried after him.