At the dilapidated blacksmith shop on the eastern edge of the village—its roof partially caved in and barely holding together—Tang San found his father, Tang Hao, and recounted everything that had happened during the day's Martial Soul awakening.
When Tang Hao heard that Chen Ming had awakened an Armored Earth Dragon with innate Level Seven Spirit Power, his dull, half-lidded eyes showed no reaction whatsoever. To someone who didn't even think much of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon, a Martial Soul like the Armored Earth Dragon was, in his eyes, nothing more than a slightly tougher mudfish.
However, when Tang San mentioned that his own Martial Soul was Blue Silver Grass—with full innate Spirit Power—Tang Hao's expression changed.
Yet it wasn't excitement that surfaced.
It was… something closer to disappointment.
Blue Silver Grass reminded him of Ah Yin, stirring memories of his late wife. But in Tang Hao's mind, there were only two kinds of Martial Souls in this world: the Clear Sky Hammer… and everything else. The Clear Sky Hammer stood unrivaled, while all other Martial Souls, no matter how strong, fell short by comparison.
Ah Yin had been Ah Yin—a transformed hundred-thousand-year Spirit Beast. Her Martial Soul was never something as ordinary as common Blue Silver Grass. As for Tang San… his was merely a slightly unusual variation, and to Tang Hao, it paled in comparison to the Clear Sky Hammer.
Caught between conflicting emotions, Tang Hao stood up, intending to head back inside for more sleep. Tang San opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a rough, impatient, "Don't bother me."
But then—
Tang San mentioned that he had another Martial Soul.
In that instant, Tang Hao's dim eyes lit up. He spun around and strode back toward his son.
When Tang San summoned the Clear Sky Hammer, and Tang Hao felt the unmistakable resonance of their shared bloodline, his composure finally broke. He pulled Tang San into a tight embrace.
"My son… my son…"
It was a rare moment. Tang Hao seldom addressed him so directly—usually it was just "Xiao San." To hold him like this, calling him his son with such emotion… it was something Tang San had never experienced in this lifetime.
"Father… is this hammer Martial Soul very powerful?"
Feeling that unfamiliar, overwhelming surge of paternal affection, Tang San spoke with both excitement and confusion.
"Hmph. Compared to your hammer, something like that earth dragon is nothing more than a mudfish by the roadside." Tang Hao's voice was low and firm. "Swear to me—you must not use your hammer lightly. Use the hammer in your left hand to protect the grass in your right."
Tang San didn't understand. Why forbid him from using the hammer, yet also tell him to rely on it to protect his other Martial Soul?
But in the face of his father's demand, he nodded without hesitation.
—
While this rare display of fatherly affection unfolded, what was Chen Ming—arguably the other central figure of the awakening—doing?
He was up in the mountains… preparing to raid a beehive.
A promise was a promise. Since he had said it, he intended to follow through. So after the awakening, Chen Ming headed straight into the hills.
Passing by a small river, he summoned his Martial Soul and caught sight of his reflection in the water.
What stared back at him was a being that was neither fully human nor beast.
Thick dragon scales layered across his body, forming a structure like natural armor. His arms had undergone significant beast-like transformation, swelling at the wrists as his fingers sharpened into ten earthen-yellow claws. Behind him, a heavy dragon tail extended outward, resting against the ground like a third leg.
In his possessed state, earthen energy gathered around his head. Fine scales covered his neck, while that same yellow energy condensed around his skull, forming a helmet-like structure centered around two small dragon horns. Within his eyes, slit pupils glimmered faintly with a cold, golden light.
Powerful. Savage. As steady and imposing as a mountain, yet brimming with untamed ferocity.
This form… was exactly what Chen Ming had hoped for.
Maintaining his Martial Soul possession, he made his way directly to the beehive. Without hesitation, he climbed the tree using his claws and reached out toward it.
As he climbed, he noticed something—his body felt slightly stiff. The armor-like structure limited the range of motion in his joints. While his straight-line speed and short bursts of power weren't significantly affected, his agility and flexibility had clearly decreased.
The faint aura of a sub-dragon stirred the bees within the hive. Since Chen Ming had only just awakened his Martial Soul, the aura wasn't particularly strong. After a brief moment of scattering, the bees regrouped and launched a coordinated attack.
But once Chen Ming shielded his face, the outcome was inevitable.
The bees' stingers couldn't penetrate his hardened armor in the slightest. They buzzed around him frantically, like headless flies, only to be swatted away one after another.
After a prolonged struggle, the guardian bees were finally driven off, dispersing in all directions to begin rebuilding their hive elsewhere.
Carrying a beehive the size of a watermelon, Chen Ming returned to the village, only to find Old Jack already waiting for him at the entrance.
Seeing Chen Ming come back with the bright yellow-orange hive in hand, Old Jack chuckled warmly. Without a word, he took a large basket and carefully placed the hive inside it. Then, as if remembering something important, he reached into his chest and pulled out a book that still carried a faint residual warmth, pressing it into Chen Ming's hands.
"Grandpa Jack, what's this?" Chen Ming asked.
He dismissed his Martial Soul, casually licking the honey off his palm, then carefully flipped open a corner of the pages.
"This…" Old Jack's voice carried both pride and a trace of helplessness. "This is the meditation method left behind by the Spirit Saint who once came from Holy Soul Village. It's been kept by my family for decades. I'm not a Spirit Master myself, so I don't know how it compares to the one from the Spirit Hall, but… I hope it can help you."
After a pause, he continued, his tone turning heavier.
"Xiao Ming, I won't hide it from you. It's true that Holy Soul Village once produced a Spirit Saint. But after all, we're just a small village. That Spirit Saint's descendants—and the relatives close to him—left long ago to settle in other cities and continue their line elsewhere."
"All that remains in Holy Soul Village is the name. There's no direct bloodline of that Spirit Saint left here anymore."
"This meditation method was something he left behind when he returned in old age, reminiscing about his childhood. He said it was a way of leaving something for his roots. Our ancestors preserved it carefully, but no Spirit Master ever appeared in the village again… until you."
Old Jack shook his head, then quickly turned away, hugging the basket as he hurried back home, clearly not wanting Chen Ming to see the moisture gathering in his eyes.
Watching the slightly thicker meditation manual in his hands, Chen Ming could clearly feel the old man's care and hope.
But once he returned to his room, ate a few simple rations, and spread out both meditation methods side by side, a wave of silent frustration slowly overtook him.
The so-called "Spirit Saint legacy" meditation method was indeed slightly better than the standard version—but not because it was fundamentally more advanced or complete. Rather, it simply contained additional annotations and personal insights added by the Spirit Saint during his cultivation journey.
At their core, both methods were built on the same underlying framework and philosophy. Only minor details had been adjusted or refined.
Practicing this version might be marginally faster than Su Yuntao's basic method—perhaps by five to ten percent efficiency at most. Anything beyond that was unrealistic.
No matter how many times he looked at it, simplicity and crudeness remained the defining features of these meditation techniques. Even without relying on his "AI" mode, Chen Ming felt that with nothing more than his past-life imagination, he could already improve upon them significantly.
Although this world had existed for over ten thousand years, and gods had appeared more than once, the cultivation system still felt like it was in its most primitive stage.
No wonder people here placed such extreme importance on innate Spirit Power and Martial Soul quality.
With such an underdeveloped cultivation system, without exceptional talent, it was simply impossible to produce true experts.
...
Drop some POWERSTONES guys!