"Where... did this Martial Soul of yours come from?" Every word of that hoarse voice was like an icy hammer, slamming into Ling Feng's heart so hard that even his Soul Power fell into momentary disorder. That gaze seemed capable of piercing the shadows beneath his hood and stabbing straight into the depths of his soul, freezing all his thoughts, laying them bare, and scrutinizing them!
His mind roared!
It was Tang Hao! Clear Sky Douluo Tang Hao! He recognized the Clear Sky Hammer! He really did suspect something! In this world, apart from his son and the Clear Sky Sect, how could an outsider awaken such a Martial Soul?
What should I do? Tell the truth? The system? Signing in? Transmigration? He would only take it for mad ravings, or worse, some unspeakable dark art! With Clear Sky Douluo's murderous disposition, he might well bring his hammer down and eliminate all future trouble! Deny it outright? But the Clear Sky Hammer is right here in my hand! This overbearing, heavy presence is unique. There is no faking it! Denial would be courting death! I can only... lie! Fabricate a lie that is as plausible as possible and can dispel his suspicions and killing intent! I have to come up with a story that can get me through this for now, in the shortest possible time! Every detail has to withstand at least a moment's scrutiny!
The immense pressure was like Mount Tai bearing down on him! Never had the shadow of death been so clear!
Every cell in Ling Feng's body sounded a shrill alarm. Cold sweat instantly soaked the torn clothing across his back, plastering it icily against his skin. But he forced himself to calm down! The sense of danger, even greater than when he had faced the Thunderhorn Zheng, instead roused the ruthless refusal to admit defeat buried in his bones!
I can't panic! And I absolutely can't show fear! Fighting down the blood churning in his chest and abdomen and the heart-piercing agony in his right arm, he drew a deep breath. The breath sent pain through his lungs as though they were being torn apart, but it also forced down the metallic sweetness in his throat. He ruthlessly suppressed the thoughts surging through his mind like towering waves, using every scrap of willpower to maintain a calm exterior. He even forced the corners of his mouth into a faint curve of bitterness, helplessness, and a little stubbornness.
He raised his head and looked straight into the deep shadows beneath the hood. That gaze weighed on him like an abyssal sea, but he held firm and did not look away. Under the pressure of life and death, his Purple Demon Eye seemed to function with greater clarity as well, allowing him to barely resist the mental oppression brought by that invisible Soul Power pressure.
"Senior..." Ling Feng's voice held the hoarseness left by fierce combat, along with a few deliberately displayed traces of the panic and grievance expected of a boy his age, but above all, frankness. "This Martial Soul of mine... is called the Clear Sky Hammer... and it was passed down through my family!"
He spoke neither too quickly nor too slowly, striving for clarity, with the weight of someone recalling the past. "Passed down through your family?" The gray-robed man's-Tang Hao's-tone did not fluctuate at all. It remained icy, betraying not the slightest emotion, but the heaviness shrouding Ling Feng seemed to grow a little more solid.
Here it comes! The test has begun! Ling Feng's heart felt as though an icy hand had clenched around it. He knew that every word he spoke next would determine whether he lived or died!
"Yes." Ling Feng nodded, his voice dropping a little, tinged with remembrance. "My grandfather... was once a blacksmith. According to him, the ancestors of our branch were also Soul Masters several hundred years ago, and their Martial Soul was this Clear Sky Hammer. Only..."
He paused at just the right moment. The bitterness and helplessness on his face grew more apparent, and his eyes revealed the resentment and loneliness peculiar to a descendant of a fallen family. "Only, as the years passed, our family declined. By my grandfather's generation, he was merely an ordinary blacksmith. The Martial Soul inheritance had long since grown too thin to sustain... for several generations, no one had even managed to awaken it again... both my parents were ordinary people..."
He lowered his head slightly, his right hand unconsciously tightening around the black Clear Sky Hammer. His Soul Power stirred faintly, and even the heavy, overbearing presence emanating from the hammer seemed to take on a trace of desolation. "When I was born, my grandfather named me 'Ling Feng' as nothing more than something to hold on to, meaning... to entrust his hopes to a faint, distant wind. His lifelong regret was that he never saw the Clear Sky Hammer's glory restored with his own eyes..."
"Not until a month ago, at my Martial Soul Awakening... this hammer..." Ling Feng raised his head, a light flickering in his eyes-heartfelt excitement and consolation for his grandfather. "My grandfather's aged eyes streamed with tears then... he only said that our ancestors were watching over us. As for the more distant past, where our ancestors came from, how they dwindled... no one knows anymore. My grandfather also passed away when I was young..."
He spread his left hand, the gesture carrying a boy's helplessness and bewilderment. "So, senior, when you ask where my Martial Soul came from... I truly cannot answer. I only know that it was passed down by my ancestors, bound to my bloodline... now that it has awakened in my hands... perhaps it is heaven's will... that I restore my family's standing?"
These words were half true and half false. The "Feng" in his name came from his previous life, but it also happened to fit "entrusting his hopes to a faint, distant wind," making the explanation plausible. "Passed down by my ancestors, bound to my bloodline" was the central theme, attributing every inexplicable aspect of its origin to a reversion of the bloodline and the dust of distant history. He emphasized "long in decline," "the family's fallen fortunes," "ancestors who were merely blacksmiths and no longer knew its origins," and "no awakening for generations," weakening any possible direct connection between himself and the presently known Clear Sky Sect as much as possible! At the same time, his desire to "restore his family's standing" seemed perfectly reasonable.
Deathly silence. The gray-robed man, Tang Hao, remained silent. The shadows beneath his hood seemed to deepen. He stood there like an icy stone statue. Yet the gaze locked on Ling Feng was like two solid steel needles, scrutinizing him as though to pierce through everything. Ling Feng could feel an even more unfathomable and immense spiritual power sweep across his entire body, as though it meant to see him clearly from the inside out. This was an examination! An examination of the nature of the Soul Power inside him, the purity of his Martial Soul, and whether he showed any signs of lying!
Ling Feng held his breath and emptied his mind of every thought, leaving only his absolute control over the Clear Sky Hammer Martial Soul and unwavering belief in the "family history" he had just recounted. He tried to recall the grief of his grandfather's passing-he really had lost family in his previous life-the shock of his Martial Soul Awakening, which was real, and his uncertainty about the future and desire to grow stronger, which were also real.
A few seconds stretched as long as a century. At last, that suffocatingly heavy pressure slowly receded a little, like an ebbing tide. The gray-robed man still said nothing. But the scrutiny in his gaze seemed to fade considerably.
Just as Ling Feng thought the man had tacitly accepted his account or temporarily set aside his doubts, and a faint sense of relief began to rise in his heart, the gray-robed man suddenly moved! He did not strike, but stepped forward. One step! Just one step! Space seemed to shorten beneath his feet. One instant he had been five meters away; the next, that weathered face, more than half concealed by his hood and stubble, was right in front of Ling Feng!
So fast! Ling Feng's pupils contracted sharply. He could almost smell the faint scent of alcohol on the man and that distinctive presence, mixing iron-blooded hardness with desolation, that ran deep into his bones! He could even see a fleeting, complex gleam deep in the man's eyes, carrying endless sorrow and pain! That gaze lingered for an instant on his face, and particularly on the Clear Sky Hammer.
They were mere inches apart! The gray-robed man's-Tang Hao's-eyes were like two icy branding irons, once again searing themselves fiercely onto Ling Feng's face and that black hammer! This time, they carried an even stronger surge of emotion than before!
He did not open his mouth. But Ling Feng clearly heard a voice, not transmitted through the air, but sounding directly inside his mind! It carried heavy tremors of Soul Power and an unquestionable pressure:
"Boy, whether what you said is true or false..." "Remember one thing..." "The Clear Sky Hammer... is both strength and destiny! And more than that, a curse!" "Once you wield it, you shoulder everything behind it!" "You. Had. Best. Take. Care!"
Those final words came one at a time, like morning bells and evening drums, pounding heavily against Ling Feng's mind with an icy warning and a faint, meaningful sigh!
After saying this, the gray-robed figure mere inches away suddenly blurred, dissolving like a reflection in water. The next second, he appeared on the branch of an ancient tree dozens of paces away. He turned back and gave Ling Feng, who sat propped against the broken tree in utter disarray, one last, deep look. That look held far too many emotions to put into words. Then his figure flashed again, as though melting into the void, and vanished completely into the depths of the dense forest, as if he had never appeared.
All that remained was the deathly silent woodland, the Thunderhorn Zheng's corpse, and Ling Feng, drenched in cold sweat and gasping for breath, his heart churning like rivers and seas overturned.