Chapter 11 — Na'er: You Don't Want Little Tang Wulin to Be a Useless Soul Master, Right?
Tang Wulin, still just a boy, worked from dawn until late night at the forge to earn enough to buy himself a soul spirit.
Just thinking about it made Na'er's eyes prickle with sadness.
She couldn't awaken her martial soul and had been abandoned—or so Tang Wulin believed—and had no choice but to live under someone else's roof.
Now that she was older, she understood. She was little more than a burden to his struggling family.
Na'er didn't want to be a burden.
She exhaled deeply and sent a message.
Na'er: Voice message (3s) → (Converted to text)
Suppress All in This Life: "Not sweet enough. I want it cuter than how you call Tang Wulin. At least five minutes!"
Na'er: "Don't push it!"
Suppress All in This Life: "You know how important a soul spirit's age is. If his first one is only ten years, it'll ruin his path as a soul master forever."
Under Jiang Chen's influence, the Spirit Transmission Tower was no longer the antagonist it once was. Gone were the days when ten-year white-ranked spirits cost 70,000 and hundred-year yellow-ranked spirits cost a million.
Modern cooperation with soul beasts had greatly reduced those prices.
But not everyone could afford the best, nor always find one suited to them.
If you couldn't even secure a financial future, how could you expect spiritual growth? Soul spirits chose their hosts carefully—even spirits looked down on the poor.
Suppress All in This Life: "I can prepare a suitable spirit for him—close to a thousand years of power. Na'er, you wouldn't want little Wulin to become a useless soul master because his first soul spirit is only ten years old, would you?"
Na'er clutched her phone tightly.
She remembered Wulin's vow—to become powerful enough to confront the family that had abandoned her and make them regret it.
If his first spirit were a ten-year weakling, would he still hold that resolve? Or would he give up entirely?
Ten-year spirits were considered defective, unwanted rejects. Classmates would surely sneer and pity him.
No. She wouldn't let that happen!
She took a deep breath and steadied herself.
Suppress All in This Life: "And I won't even ask you to repay me. See how kind big brother is to you?"
Na'er: "I'll pay you back!"
Na'er: Voice message (60s) → (Converted to text)
It started soft and shy, shifted to irritated, then ended practically buzzing with fury—enough rage to kill through the screen.
Jiang Chen silently saved the audio file.
He planned to play it for Di Tian later.
Your Lord just called me 'Brother,' Di Tian.
He knew she was at her limit. If he teased that half-Silver Dragon King any further, she might actually come for him—with the Silver Dragon Spear.
Suppress All in This Life: "Big brother will take care of it. Don't worry, little Na'er!"
Na'er: "Don't tell him I asked you."
Suppress All in This Life: "Okay!"
(Absolutely going to tell Tang Wulin.)
"Transmission Master? Aren't soul spirits 30,000? Why—why can't I get a hundred-year one?"
When the Spirit Transmission Master gave the price, Tang Wulin's world collapsed.
At nine years old, he already understood the basics of a soul master's path—he knew the soul ring configuration decided one's entire future.
Ten-year spirits?
The Tower never made spirits from newly born beasts. Even Di Tian's Dragon God Claw prohibited that.
Those ten-year spirits were artificial rejects—defective test products sold off under the "no waste" policy.
For civilians, they were the only affordable choice.
Of course, when a commoner awakened an exceptional martial soul, the Tower would never let them settle for a mere ten-year spirit. They offered "free assistance."
But for Tang Wulin, the cheapest proper spirit—one hundred years—still cost one million.
One. Million.
He had worked tirelessly, hammering metal daily to save enough. After years, he'd scraped together only 30,000… not enough even for a defective one.
One million—how many lifetimes would that take?
Despair clouded his face.
Even Tang Ziran looked helpless. They actually had money—he was once a federal mecha designer and pharmaceutical researcher—but using that account would expose them.
Exposure meant death.
If only Wulin's martial soul weren't Blue Silver Grass…
Maybe then he'd risk it all.
But such a weak, "useless" soul held little hope.
Better to live quietly, together as a happy family.
Tang Wulin didn't notice his father's silent pain. His whole aura radiated hopelessness.
The Spirit Transmission Master, however, smiled. "Of course, if you join the Tower, we can provide you a suitable spirit free of charge."
But as Wulin opened his mouth to respond, something inside him—an inner consciousness—forcefully silenced the thought.
If he joined the Tower, how would he enter Shrek Academy? Or the Tang Sect?
Sensing dangerous hesitation, the divine consciousness sleeping within his sea of spirit stirred awake.
Though stripped of memory, its genetic instinct remained loyal to Shrek and Tang Sect.
Even if the Tower had been founded by Huo Yuhao, those two still held greater importance.
The thought of joining was crushed instantly.
So what if it was a ten-year soul spirit?
Though this consciousness held no memory of its origin, it still remembered its mission—to suppress the other half of the Dragon God and master the true Golden Dragon King's power.
With such an unmatched bloodline, soul ring age mattered little.
One day, Tang Wulin's strength would come from the Golden Dragon King—not from a soul spirit.
Even if he contracted nine ten-year spirits, the dragon bloodline would carry him beyond all limits.
A mere soul spirit would never sway him to join the Tower.
The Transmission Master sensed resistance but stayed courteous. "Of course, there's another way. Some spirits freely choose their partners based on affinity."
"At our Tower, we respect that choice. If a spirit selects you on its own, you may take it."
"However, it would still be Tower property. You'd be asked to complete tasks to repay the favor."
"It's a fair trade for those who don't join officially."
What he didn't mention was that even soul spirits judged by appearance and value. Poor soul masters couldn't provide for them—nor help them grow stronger.
"And if none chooses you," the master added, "you can pay 30,000 credits to draw a random one."
"But that method relies entirely on luck—and once chosen, it cannot be revoked. Most avoid that option."
(END CHAPTER)
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