Fasinuo Province, outskirts of Notting City.
Holy Soul Village.
In a dilapidated blacksmith's shop, the sound of hammering echoed.
"Clang."
A tall figure, reeking of alcohol, with messy hair resembling a bird's nest, stood there. His unkempt beard and emotionless eyes gave him a disheveled appearance.
Tang Hao threw the hammer to the ground and dragged his heavy body toward the wooden bed by the furnace. The bed was stained with dark, greasy marks, evidence of long-term neglect.
Tang Hao lay down casually, his voice low:
"Ten copper coins, give them to the kid next door."
"This is too poorly made. Can this even cut grass?" A farmer looked at the crooked sickle with disdain.
"Hmm?" Tang Hao sat up, his eyes flashing with danger.
Despite his disheveled appearance, his imposing figure and the aura of a soul master were enough to intimidate the farmer.
"Ahem, it'll do, it'll do..." The farmer cursed inwardly, picked up the sickle, tossed ten copper coins to the child, and left.
If it weren't for the fact that you're the only blacksmith around, I wouldn't have come here! Damn it, next time I'll go to the city. I'll be a dog if I come back here again!
"Humph." Tang Hao snorted and lay back down.
His dark fingers pointed to Tang San, who was secretly taking leftover iron scraps by the furnace.
"Go use those copper coins to buy me some wine and peanuts."
Tang San, thin and dressed in shabby clothes, nodded.
Even though this man had forced scalding porridge down his throat when he first arrived in this world, burning his throat and leaving him to recover through two years of Mysterious Heaven Skill cultivation.
Even though he had never cared for him, leaving all the cooking and cleaning to Tang San since he could walk.
Even though he had never once called him "son."
Even though he was always drunk and the family was perpetually poor.
Tang San could never harbor any resentment toward him.
Because this was his father, Tang Hao.
No matter what he did, no matter how he treated him, Tang San knew one thing: absolute obedience and forgiveness.
In his previous life, he had never experienced a father's love. In this life, he would cherish it!
Everything he endured was a test and motivation from his father, and it was absolutely right!
"Dad, should I spend all of it?"
"Hmm—" Tang Hao's voice was faint, and soon, soft snores could be heard.
Tang San sighed silently. There was no way to save any money.
Without funds, his father wouldn't buy more raw iron, and Tang San couldn't gather the materials he needed to recreate the Tang Sect's hidden weapons. When would the Tang Sect's legacy be restored?
"Dad, we're out of rice at home."
Tang Hao's snoring paused, and he seemed to hesitate:
"Then take four... no, three coins to buy rice. And don't buy firewood. Go chop some in the mountains. Remember to come back and cook by noon."
The four-year-old Tang San pursed his lips:
"Okay, Dad."
With that, Tang San set off.
In one morning, he had to chop firewood in the mountains, buy rice, wine, and peanuts in the village, and return to the blacksmith shop to cook lunch for Tang Hao.
The heavy axe seemed oversized in the hands of the four-year-old Tang San.
Swinging the axe with great effort, Tang San panted heavily.
Poor sleep, insufficient food, and daily labor.
Even prison life would be better than this.
Tang San glanced around, then activated his Mysterious Heaven Skill. A faint white glow appeared on his hands.
"Thud!"
The trunk of a dead tree was chopped down.
Hidden in the shadows, Tang Hao's eyes were cold. He had noticed Tang San's peculiar behavior long ago.
A child who could survive such conditions without crying or making a fuss.
Although he hadn't paid attention at first, he later realized that the injuries he had inflicted on Tang San should have been fatal. Yet, Tang San had healed on his own without any medical treatment.
And then there was that mysterious cultivation technique and the strange habit of turning his eyes purple in the mountains.
It was impossible for Tang Hao not to be suspicious.
Tang Hao exhaled and shook his head indifferently:
"Whatever you are, it's none of my business. I look forward to the day of your martial soul awakening. You'd better not disappoint me, or else..."
A cold glint flashed in Tang Hao's eyes. He disappeared and reappeared in the blacksmith shop, lying on the greasy, broken bed, closing his eyes.
Tang San, who was gathering firewood, suddenly felt a chill. He gripped an iron nail in his hand and looked around nervously.
"What was that? I felt like I was about to die!"
Tang San swallowed hard, his brows furrowed. He slowly moved his small feet toward the mountain path.
After a tense journey, Tang San finally returned to the village.
He glanced suspiciously at the mountain forest, a dark look in his eyes:
"Damn it, whoever or whatever that was, you've already earned your death sentence!"
He walked toward the village store.
"Shopkeeper, six copper coins' worth of wine and three copper coins' worth of rice."
The shopkeeper sighed, looking at Tang San, who was shorter than the table, carrying a bamboo basket as tall as himself.
He shook his head: "Alright, let me get that for you."
Tang San's soft voice came again:
"Shopkeeper, can you give me some peanuts?"
The shopkeeper paused, glancing at the leftover peanuts on a customer's table.
"Take the leftover peanuts from that table. No charge."
Tang San's eyes lit up. He had saved another copper coin! Amazing!
One copper coin! Enough to last a lifetime, a lifetime...
As Tang San walked away, carrying the heavy bamboo basket, his steps slow and unsteady, the shopkeeper shook his head.
This family was full of weirdos.
The father was neglectful and irresponsible.
The son was even stranger, acting like a fool despite being mistreated.
It was ridiculous.
Back at home, Tang San was drenched in sweat, feeling dizzy.
He hurriedly put down the bamboo basket and went to drink some water, only to find the water jar empty.
After a moment of silence, Tang San picked up a wooden bucket and trudged toward the river...