Chapter 221: Tang Hao's Decision
After many years, walking again along the familiar paths of his childhood village stirred up a mix of emotions for Tang San. Since Tang Hao's mysterious disappearance during Tang San's first year at school, he hadn't returned to the village in ages. The small blacksmith hut, where he'd spent his early days training, was still standing but was now overgrown with weeds, its roof bearing several holes. Neglect had left it looking battered and worn.
Despite its dilapidation, the village's residents had left it untouched, fearful that one day Tang San, now known to be a soul master, might return. The villagers held soul masters in a mixture of awe and dread; the very idea of upsetting one was enough to make them steer clear.
Some of the older villagers recognized Tang Hao immediately but kept their distance, recalling his reputation as a rough drunkard. As for Tang San, the years and the deep tan he'd developed had changed him so much that they couldn't immediately place him. Whispers broke out among the crowd as they tried to remember who he was, while the village chief watched in silence, his gaze cold.
Having once given Tang San a place to stay and supported him, the village chief now saw him as ungrateful. After his first year at school, Tang San had ceased all contact with the village. In the chief's eyes, he was nothing more than an ingrate, a reputation he wanted to avoid being associated with, even if Tang San was a soul master.
Unfazed by the cold reception, Tang Hao and Tang San headed to the old blacksmith hut. Inside, a faint smell of decay hung in the air, but Tang Hao barely noticed it. With a single powerful strike, he shattered the anvil, the loud impact startling nearby villagers, who hurriedly retreated to avoid whatever misfortune might follow.
Pointing to the ground, Tang Hao instructed,
"Tang San, start digging here. Go down two meters."
Without hesitation, Tang San took a shovel from his storage ring and began to dig, keeping silent. Tang Hao watched with satisfaction; despite his son's suspicious origins, his loyalty and respect were undeniable.
Tang San's efficiency shone through, and in less than fifteen minutes, he had reached the depth Tang Hao had specified. He found a lead sealed box and, full of curiosity, handed it to Tang Hao.
"Father, what's in here?" he asked, imagining tales of hidden treasures from martial arts novels. Perhaps the box contained rare and powerful resources that could bring him closer to his goals. Tang San's heart raced at the thought.
Tang Hao took the heavy box, inspecting it briefly, and was satisfied it remained sealed.
"Tang San, you've studied with Yu Xiaogang for years. Do you know the three treasures most coveted by soul masters?"
"Of course ten thousand year spirit rings, spirit bones, and external spirit bones," Tang San replied without hesitation.
Hearing this, Tang Hao nodded approvingly. With a gleam of pride, he opened the box, his voice taking on a solemn tone.
"This, Tang San, is a spirit bone a treasure your mother left for you, the left arm bone of a 200,000 year old Thunder Hell Prison Vine…"
But as he opened the box, Tang Hao's words faltered. The box was empty except for a note. Shocked, he froze, letting the box slip from his grasp, his eyes fixed on the note inside.
He picked up the slip of paper and read:
Tang Hao, I'm back. Just wait you failed to protect even our son, and for that, your HaoTian Sect will pay the price!
Tang Hao stared at the note, eyes wide in disbelief. The familiar handwriting, the unique energy on the paper it was undeniably hers.
"This… this really is from Ah Yin!" he murmured, staggered by the thought. Could someone truly come back from the dead?
A storm of emotions hit him, and for a moment, his spirit pressure flared uncontrollably, filling the hut. Tang San, feeling the intense pressure for the first time, staggered back, shouting,
"Father! Pull yourself together!"
Tang Hao shook himself back to his senses, glancing at his son with a flash of irritation. Yes, he hadn't been able to protect their child in the end, and now Tang San was his only hope of restoring the HaoTian Sect.
Folding up the note with a new resolve, he muttered to himself, Ah Yin, I know I wronged you. If you seek revenge, I accept it but the HaoTian Sect cannot be allowed to fall.
With a forced look of grief, he turned to Tang San, passing him the note.
"Tang San, the spirit bone your mother left you has been stolen. Not only that, but the thief dared to mock me," he said, handing over the note.
Tang San scanned the note, frowning with anger. What nonsense saying my father couldn't protect me when I'm clearly here, perfectly fine, he thought, unaware of the underlying truth about himself. His anger flared as his mind raced.
Wait, my father is from the HaoTian Sect? Then my second martial spirit must be the legendary HaoTian Hammer!
"Curse that thief!" he spat, hands clenched. "They won't escape their fate, Father. Do you have any leads on where they might be? We should seek them out and make them pay!"
Tang Hao kept up his sorrowful façade, wiping away imaginary tears.
"Tang San, our family has only one true enemy. The Spirit Hall not only took your mother's life but also seeks to undermine us."
Tang San's eyes blazed with rage. He'd once respected the Spirit Hall for its support of common soul masters, but now it was clear to him how vile they truly were.
"Spirit Hall," he hissed. "You'll pay for this. I swear, in my lifetime, I'll see justice for Mother's death and retrieve what's ours."
Tang Hao clapped a hand on his son's shoulder, his expression a mix of sadness and determination.
"Good child. My own time is nearly over, but your talent shines far brighter than mine ever did. One day, the Spirit Hall will pay the price."
Tang San nodded, his resolve hardening.
Now that the spirit bone was gone, Tang Hao decided to begin teaching Tang San the true techniques of the HaoTian Hammer. They returned to the familiar mountain and waterfall where Tang San resumed his training, starting from the basics of the Disorder Splitting Wind Hammer technique, with his father guiding him each step of the way.
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