Blacksmith Association

The dust gradually settled over the training grounds.

Wu Changkong slowly reined in the frost sword intent surrounding him, and the suffocating chill vanished in an instant. He looked at the panting Tang Wulin before him, his brows slightly furrowed, a trace of curiosity and puzzlement in his eyes.

"Stop," Wu Changkong said coolly.

Tang Wulin immediately stopped moving and stood in place, his chest heaving. Sweat slid down his cheeks and dripped onto the scorching tiles. His head was lowered, his short black hair soaked with sweat and plastered untidily across his forehead, hiding his eyes and making his expression impossible to read.

Wu Changkong walked up to Tang Wulin, his gaze blazing as though it could pierce his soul. "Tang Wulin, raise your head."

Tang Wulin obeyed, a hint of apprehension and unease in his golden eyes.

Wu Changkong stared at him, his tone stern. "Those two techniques you just used, Three Thousand Thunder Movement... Eight-Level Collapse... where did you learn them? I've never seen techniques like those in the academy's library, nor have I heard of any Soul Master using them. Your martial soul is blue silver grass, so how can you unleash such overwhelming power? And that movement technique—you had no assistance from the wind element, yet you were so fast that even I almost failed to react."

His string of questions bombarded Tang Wulin like rapid cannon fire.

Tang Wulin's heart tightened. He couldn't possibly say that he had a Heavens Void Hall in his mind and had summoned Xiao Yan from another world to teach him, could he? Such a thing was far too incredible. If word got out, it would likely bring him endless trouble, and he might even be treated as an aberration.

He gritted his teeth. As he lowered his head, his black hair slipped down again, concealing his tightly furrowed brows. He remained silent.

"What is it? Is there something you can't tell me?" Wu Changkong's frown deepened. "Or did you obtain this Cultivation Technique through improper means?"

"No! That's not it!" Tang Wulin hurriedly raised his head and firmly denied it, his gaze resolute. "Teacher, I absolutely didn't steal this Cultivation Technique or take it by force! It's... an inheritance I obtained through a chance encounter. As for exactly how I got it, I... I promised someone I wouldn't say."

He had concocted a half-truth. It did count as an inheritance, and it had indeed come through a chance encounter. As for his claim that he had "promised someone not to say," that made his story seamless.

Watching Tang Wulin swear so earnestly while refusing to elaborate, Wu Changkong fell silent for a moment. The training grounds were so quiet that only the three of them breathing heavily could be heard.

After a long while, Wu Changkong suddenly sighed. The sternness in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by a touch of warmth and understanding.

"All right, I understand." Wu Changkong turned his back to Tang Wulin, his voice much gentler. "If you don't want to say, then don't."

Tang Wulin jerked his head up, his eyes full of astonishment. "Teacher?"

Wu Changkong stopped without looking back and simply said, "Everyone has their own secrets, especially someone like you, with a special bloodline and martial soul. As long as you haven't done anything cruel or wicked, or strayed down some sinister path, as long as your heart is upright, I can accept the rest."

He paused, his voice carrying a barely perceptible note of concern. "Besides, I trust you. I can't quite explain why, but my instincts tell me you're a good child. Your power may be domineering, but your heart is pure."

Warmth welled up in Tang Wulin's heart as he listened, and his eyes grew slightly hot. He had never expected Wu Changkong to trust him so completely, even to stop asking where his Cultivation Technique had come from.

"Teacher..." Tang Wulin's voice caught in his throat.

Wu Changkong turned around. Seeing how moved Tang Wulin was, the corners of his mouth lifted into the faintest smile. "Enough. Don't look as though you're about to burst into tears. You're a man. Be strong."

He walked up to Tang Wulin and patted his shoulder, his tone growing serious. "However, now that you've mastered such powerful abilities, you need to train all the harder. Three Thousand Thunder Movement and Eight-Level Collapse may be formidable, but you're still a beginner, and there are plenty of shortcomings in your execution. I'll adjust your upcoming special training to account for your new abilities."

"Yes, Teacher!" Tang Wulin straightened his chest and answered loudly, the joy in his heart almost overflowing.

The sun sank in the west, stretching their three shadows long. Tang Wulin walked along the path back to the Dormitory, his short black hair gleaming healthily in the sunset. He occasionally raised a hand to wipe away his sweat, brimming with vitality. He felt fortunate to have met Wu Changkong, Gu Yue, and Xie Xie. This trust and friendship would be his most precious treasures on the road ahead.

After leaving the training grounds, Tang Wulin did not return to the Dormitory. Instead, he headed straight for the Blacksmith Association branch in Eastsea City's academy district. His short black hair stirred gently in the afternoon breeze as he recalled the instructions his senior martial uncle, Zhen Hua, had given him before his departure: "Once you reach Eastsea City, go see President Mu Chen. He's your junior martial uncle, and he'll also guide you along the path of forging."

As he pushed open the Blacksmith Association's heavy bronze doors, crisp hammering sounds and a rich metallic scent greeted him. The receptionist was about to approach and ask what he needed when Tang Wulin stated his purpose. "I'm here to see President Mu Chen. My name is Tang Wulin, and I'm President Zhen Hua's disciple."

At the words "Zhen Hua's disciple," the receptionist's expression turned solemn. They hurriedly escorted him to a private soul-powered elevator bound for the top floor. The elevator rose extremely quickly, and Tang Wulin gave his head a slight shake to suppress the ringing in his ears.

The top-floor office was spacious and bright, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a magnificent view of half of Eastsea City. Mu Chen had been waiting for some time. He was tall, with a trace of gentleness softening his dignified features. When Tang Wulin entered, he studied him carefully, paying particular attention to his hands, with their well-defined knuckles and faint suggestion of strength.

"Greetings, Junior Martial Uncle Mu Chen. I'm Tang Wulin." Tang Wulin bowed respectfully, his tone carrying the deference due an elder.

Something stirred in Mu Chen's heart. The title "junior martial uncle" felt both familiar and somewhat complicated. As Zhen Hua's junior martial brother, he had spent his entire life chasing his senior brother's footsteps, yet he could only ever look up at him. Now, seeing the final disciple his senior brother had personally accepted, he could not help feeling a jumble of emotions.

"Have a seat." Mu Chen pointed to the chair opposite him, his eyes intent on Tang Wulin. "My senior brother mentioned you in his letter. He said you were an exceptionally promising talent."

Tang Wulin scratched his head sheepishly, his black hair shifting with the movement. "You flatter me, Martial Uncle. I just like forging."

Looking at the humble boy before him, Mu Chen could not help feeling a surge of envy. He had devoted his entire life to forging, and although he had reached the rank of Eight-Star Saint Craftsman, he had never broken through that final shackle to touch the realm of Divine Craftsman attained by his senior brother, Zhen Hua. Yet this child had not only received everything his senior brother could teach him, but also possessed limitless potential.

"You're very fortunate," Mu Chen said with a sigh, a barely perceptible loneliness in his voice. "My senior brother... is a true Divine Craftsman. Becoming his disciple is the greatest opportunity you could have."

Tang Wulin fell silent. He knew Mu Chen was telling the truth. In this world, there were only two ways for him to travel farther along the path of forging: first, find a Divine Craftsman to serve as his mentor and guide him to the threshold of Heaven Forging; second, cultivate his soul power to the level of a Titled Douluo, using powerful Spiritual Power and soul power to support forging at a higher level.

Yet both paths were as difficult as ascending to heaven.

Mu Chen watched Tang Wulin, weighing things in his own heart. Although he was an Eight-Star Saint Craftsman, respected throughout Eastsea City and even the entire Federation, he was neither a Titled Douluo nor someone who had touched the realm of Divine Craftsman. Perhaps all he could teach Tang Wulin was how to strengthen his foundations; unlike his senior brother, he could not take him straight into the heavens.

"Now that you're here, this will be your second home." Mu Chen set aside his feelings, his tone becoming solemn and earnest. "I'll arrange the best forging room for you. Though I can't compare to my senior brother, here in Eastsea City, as long as you're willing to work hard, I'll teach you everything I know."

Tang Wulin rose and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Junior Martial Uncle Mu Chen! I won't disappoint you or Senior Martial Uncle!"

Looking at the boy's straight-backed figure, a trace of gratification flashed in Mu Chen's eyes. Perhaps this child really could break convention and forge a path that neither he nor his senior brother had ever imagined. All he could do was light a lamp for him at the beginning of that road.

The atmosphere in the office had grown somewhat heavy. Mu Chen weighed the pros and cons, while Tang Wulin stood quietly, waiting for his martial uncle's next arrangement.

Suddenly, the door to the lounge at the side of the office opened, and a tall, pretty girl stepped out. She had long golden hair, and a proud light shone in her eyes. She was Mu Chen's daughter, Mu Xi.

Mu Xi's gaze locked straight onto Tang Wulin. After looking him up and down, she raised her chin and spoke with a defiant, challenging edge. "Hey! Tang Wulin! I heard you're Senior Martial Uncle Zhen Hua's disciple. Do you dare compete with me in forging? I want to see just what you're capable of that makes Dad and Senior Martial Uncle Zhen Hua think so highly of you!"

Before Tang Wulin could react, Mu Chen's expression changed abruptly. He lunged forward and, in a fluster, clamped his large hand firmly over Mu Xi's mouth to stop her from saying anything more.

"Mmph! Mmmph!" Mu Xi's eyes widened as she struggled desperately, clearly unable to understand why her father was doing this.

Keeping his hand over his daughter's mouth, Mu Chen looked at Tang Wulin with embarrassment and anxiety, forcing a semblance of composure into his urgent voice. "Well... Wulin, you've been out long enough. Hurry back to the academy! Remember, your studies come first. Forging is only a sideline, so don't neglect your schoolwork! Go on, hurry!"

Tang Wulin looked at the somewhat comical scene before him, then at the golden eyes rounded with anger and resentment. Although puzzled, he obediently nodded. "Yes, Martial Uncle. I'll head back, then."

With that, he turned and left the office, closing the door behind him.

As the door clicked shut, the office instantly fell quiet. Only then did Mu Chen release his hand and let out a long breath, as though he had just fought a great battle.

"Dad! What are you doing?" Mu Xi jumped back in fury, her cheeks flushed red and tears glistening in her eyes as she demanded angrily, "Why wouldn't you let me compete with him? Do you think I'm no match for him? You're looking down on me!"

She had been gifted since childhood, with the martial soul blazing sun, and her forging skills placed her among the best of her peers. She was accustomed to being proud and ambitious. Upon meeting Tang Wulin today, she had instinctively wanted to prove herself through a contest, only for her father to cut her off so roughly. It left her feeling deeply wronged and furious.

Mu Chen looked at his daughter, sighed helplessly, and rubbed between his brows. He knew his daughter all too well, and he was equally aware of Tang Wulin's monstrous talent.

"Xi, you're no match for him," Mu Chen said, his voice low and stern.

"How do you know before we've even competed?" Mu Xi shouted defiantly. "I'm no worse than anyone! I'll prove it to you!"

"Foolish!" Mu Chen snapped. Then his tone softened, tinged with worry. "That boy Wulin... his talent is one in ten thousand. His forging isn't merely a matter of technique—it's an instinct. If you compete with him now and lose, the conviction at the heart of your path will be damaged. You might even fall and never rise again. I'm refusing to let you two compete to protect you."

Mu Xi froze. Looking into her father's eyes, so full of concern, the anger in her heart subsided a little, but her unwillingness to concede still burned within her. She bit her lip and clenched her fists so tightly that her nails nearly dug into her flesh.

"I don't believe it..." Mu Xi murmured. "One day, I'll prove it to you. I, Mu Xi, am no worse than anyone!"

Watching his daughter's stubborn figure from behind, Mu Chen smiled bitterly to himself. He knew that although this storm had subsided for the moment, the fire in his daughter's heart would not be easily extinguished. And the name Tang Wulin was destined to become a towering mountain on her future path, or perhaps... a stepping stone.