It wasn't that Fang Lin looked down on his dad.
The best age for a soul master to cultivate was before twenty. A certain famous master had once said that if someone couldn't cross the threshold of rank thirty by twenty, it would be very difficult to do so afterward.
Could Dad be the illegitimate son of some noble...?
Excitement flashed in Fang Lin's eyes, and he whispered, "Did Grandpa send us a letter...?"
"We went to weed your grandpa's grave just last month. What letter could he possibly send?" Father Fang gave him a strange look.
"If you can go to Heaven Dou Academy, you have your old man's military merits from before he retired to thank. When you were born, I asked a marquis for a letter of recommendation, just for this day."
Although it was a little different from what he had imagined, Fang Lin felt as though his heart had been bathed in warm water.
Father Fang made it sound simple, but getting those high-and-mighty big shots to write a letter of recommendation probably hadn't been so easy.
Fang Lin grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. "My dad's the best."
As the night deepened, the candlelight flickered inside the house.
Fang Yuanqiao pulled a booklet with a pitch-black cover from his robes and patted the wooden stool beside him.
"Come here."
Fang Lin sat down, and Fang Yuanqiao continued.
"This is the meditation method I use. I added a few things I worked out myself to the standard version. Your achievements will definitely surpass mine, and you can keep improving it. Let's try to pass it down from generation to generation."
Fang Yuanqiao spoke solemnly, as though he were entrusting Fang Lin with a weighty legacy.
Fang Lin opened it. The corners of the pages were somewhat worn, and there were brown fingerprints on them. At the top of the page was a line of crooked handwriting.
Soul power cultivation relied on meditation, but meditation methods varied in quality.
Lineages with a heritage had their own meditation methods, developed through generations of trial and error. They weren't necessarily the best, but they were certainly the most suitable.
With his father's guidance, Fang Lin successfully completed his first cycle of circulating soul power.
Though faint, there was indeed a thin stream of warmth steadily entering his body, flowing along his meridians and gathering in his lower abdomen.
The tangible feeling of clearly growing stronger was strangely captivating.
Late at night, when all was quiet, Fang Lin suddenly opened his eyes, and a faint silver glow appeared in his right palm.
A long saber formed from soul power materialized and settled in his palm.
Almost at the same time, the soul power in Fang Lin's body began to drain.
Martial souls were classified by quality as trash, ordinary, advanced, top-tier, and even god-tier. The higher a Tool Martial Soul's quality, the more soul power it consumed when materialized.
At the current rate of consumption, Fang Lin estimated he could maintain it for two hours without a problem.
"It doesn't consume much soul power. It really is an ordinary-quality Tool Martial Soul, but this weight..."
Fang Lin raised his hand and made a diagonal slash. It took far more effort than his usual saber practice, because the weight differed by more than seven or eight times.
Weight was one of the factors used to gauge a Tool Martial Soul's quality. The heavier it was, the harder its material and the greater its power.
After all, the Sea God Trident was said to weigh 108,000 jin.
By candlelight, Fang Lin examined it carefully again. Aside from being a little heavier, it looked exactly like Fang Yuanqiao's iron saber from every angle, and it didn't have any petal-shaped patterns either.
"Looks like my high innate soul power is just because I exercised. If I become famous someday, I'll come up with an eleven core theories of my own."
After poking fun at himself, Fang Lin settled his mind and entered meditation again.
Nothing happened for the rest of the night, until daybreak.
Fang Lin got out of bed, looking utterly exhausted, and yawned uncontrollably.
"Who said you could replace sleep with meditation cultivation? I'm exhausted, haaah-"
He had tried to meditate instead of resting last night, but in the latter half of the night, Fang Lin had struggled to concentrate.
His soul power had barely increased, and he'd managed to tire himself out too.
I'll ask Dad later how to replace sleep with meditation. Otherwise, seven or eight hours go to waste every day.
After changing into a short jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Fang Lin went into the courtyard.
The cold morning wind swept down his collar, instantly dispelling the last of his drowsiness.
Dawn was just breaking, and the thin mist in the courtyard had yet to dissipate. Fang Yuanqiao hadn't arrived yet.
Fang Lin didn't start practicing with his saber right away. Instead, he worked on conditioning his body first.
To practice the saber, he first had to train his body. Wrist strength, waist strength, and leg strength were all foundations of saber techniques.
He bent his knees and lowered his hips, straightened his back, and let the muscles throughout his body stretch naturally, settling into a standard horse stance on the stone paving.
Even after the morning dew soaked the tops of his shoes, Fang Lin didn't move an inch.
He felt surprisingly good today. Before, he would be drenched in sweat after holding the stance for the time it took an incense stick to burn, but now his leg muscles were only slightly warm.
Only when fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead did Fang Lin straighten up. He shook out his legs to ease his taut muscles, then began practicing with his saber.
Chopping, lifting, thrusting, sweeping, slashing... There were only thirteen basic saber movements. Fang Lin had practiced them for two years and knew the moves by heart, but every practice brought new insights and progress.
The path of the saber had no end.
Short bursts of rushing air sliced through the morning mist. By the time Fang Lin finished a set of basic moves, the muscles in his forearms were already aching.
The Tool Martial Soul weighed far more than the weapon he usually used for saber practice, making it awkward to wield.
Just then, Fang Yuanqiao pushed the door open and entered the courtyard with a silver long saber in his hand. When he saw Fang Lin's clumsy movements, he immediately laughed and scolded him.
"You brat, if I strapped a saber to a pig, it'd put more force into it than you."
"I'm getting used to the weight of my Tool Martial Soul, aren't I?" Fang Lin said irritably.
Fang Yuanqiao glanced casually at Fang Lin's wrist. "By the time you get used to it, you'll have left a hidden injury in your wrist."
As he spoke, Fang Yuanqiao held out the long saber in his hand. "Use this for now. I'll get you another one in a month. In about two or three months, you'll be able to practice with your own martial soul."
The long saber Fang Yuanqiao offered was shaped just like Fang Lin's martial soul, but it was much lighter, weighing about seven or eight jin.
Fang Lin took it and casually spun it in his hand. His wrist felt noticeably less strained.
"Come on, Dad. You had everything ready, so why didn't you bring it out sooner and let me get used to it?"
Fang Yuanqiao gave him a disdainful look. "If your awakened martial soul had taken after your mother's, what the hell would be the point of making you practice all this?"
Fang Lin chuckled, rubbed his nose, and said nothing.
"Keep practicing on your own. I'll get you something good."
Fang Yuanqiao pushed open the courtyard gate and went out. The reddish-brown wooden gate slammed against the courtyard wall with a clack.
When he returned, he was carrying a chunk of meat the size of a watermelon, still stained with bright red blood. It didn't look like ordinary livestock meat.
Only when they ate did Fang Lin learn that it was meat from a hundred-year soul beast, a Horned Dragon Bear. But the taste... was hard to describe.
Fang Lin picked up a piece, chewed it a few times, and swallowed, not daring to let it linger on his tongue.
By the third piece, Fang Lin couldn't help speaking up. "Dad, who taught you to cook? It has such a strong bloody smell, and you just stewed it like that?"
Fang Yuanqiao's eyes widened. "What do you know? Stewing it keeps the nutrients in. This one meal costs a gold soul coin. Even your old man can't bear to eat it, so count yourself lucky! And don't waste the soup either. Drink every last drop!"
Classic Chinese nutritional theory.
Under Fang Yuanqiao's oppressive authority, Fang Lin pinched his nose and poured the pot of brownish-yellow liquid down his throat.
As his stomach churned, Fang Lin remembered meditating the night before.
"That's normal. Your body can't handle high-intensity meditation yet. It'll get better later. Soul power will gradually nourish your body. You probably noticed your stamina had improved noticeably when you trained today, right?"
"Once you get your first soul ring, you can cut your sleep time down even further. Rank ten is the first dividing line for soul masters. Before rank ten, you can only materialize your martial soul; you can't use it to enhance your body. After rank ten, the soul ring you absorb not only strengthens your martial soul and grants a soul skill, but also makes your body stronger."
Fang Yuanqiao's words cleared up Fang Lin's confusion, but they didn't solve his current problem.
At this rate, it would take at least two and a half years to cultivate to rank ten. Two and a half years multiplied by seven or eight hours a day meant nearly a year's worth of cultivation time would be wasted.
Ultimately, it was still a problem with his physique.
Fang Lin clicked his tongue softly and glanced at Fang Yuanqiao.
Whale Gelatin wasn't especially expensive. The cheapest cost only a few dozen gold soul coins, and the Fang family could afford it. He just didn't know whether Dad would agree...