Hongshan Academy.
"Fang Yang!"
A bright voice called out from behind him. Tang Wulin had somehow appeared without notice, his eyes gleaming with expectation. "Will you come with me to buy a soul spirit? I could really use your advice!"
Fang Yang hesitated—his mind already racing with thoughts…
Before he could respond, Tang Wulin grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the school gate. "Come on, come on! My dad's already waiting for me!"
Beneath a tree outside the gate stood a familiar figure.
Tang Ziran wore simple clothes, yet his posture was upright, his gentle eyes carrying a subtle sharpness.
Seeing his son approach with a friend, his face broke into a warm, kind smile.
"Uncle Tang, hello. I'm Wulin's friend," Fang Yang said quickly, bowing respectfully.
Tang Ziran's gaze lingered on Fang Yang for a moment—surprise flashing in his eyes. "Ah, Fang Yang! Last time I saw you was when your mother brought you for your Martial Soul Awakening."
He sighed softly. "Time flies… You and Wulin are already graduating."
"Dad, let's go buy the soul spirit already!" Tang Wulin urged impatiently.
The three arrived at the Spirit Pagoda. Tang Wulin looked up at the towering structure, awe shining in his eyes.
Inside, the circular lobby was spacious and bright, ringed by arched doorways leading to unknown halls. Behind a semi-circular counter, a gray-robed soul master was lazily flipping through documents.
Hearing footsteps, he raised his head with disinterest—his eyes sweeping over Tang Ziran's modest attire—and his expression soured.
"What do you want?"
Tang Ziran bowed respectfully. "Honored soul master, I've brought my son to purchase a soul spirit. His soul power has reached Level 10."
At this, the soul master's already lukewarm demeanor cooled further.
He asked flatly, "Did you bring enough money?"
"We did!" Tang Wulin replied eagerly.
"What tier are you looking to buy?" the soul master drawled without looking up.
Tang Ziran grew slightly uneasy. "We… don't quite understand the options. Could you please explain them to us?"
The soul master frowned, clearly irritated. "You came here without even researching first?"
"In a small place like Aolai City," he said dismissively, "the Spirit Pagoda offers only three purchase options: ten-year white soul spirits, hundred-year yellow soul spirits, or randomly drawn soul spirits."
"There are seventy-three types of white soul spirits—70,000 Federation credits each. Eleven types of yellow—1 million credits. Which will it be?"
Tang Wulin froze. "But… soul master, I heard soul spirits cost 30,000? How can it be…"
Just then, Fang Yang stepped forward calmly.
The moment the soul master recognized him, his entire attitude shifted—he bowed deeply. "Lord Fang Yang! You've arrived!"
"I'm just accompanying a friend. No need for formalities," Fang Yang waved gently.
The Tangs stood stunned.
Tang Wulin gaped. "Fang Yang… you're…"
"I joined the Spirit Pagoda," Fang Yang said casually.
Tang Ziran's heart skipped a beat. As a former Level 8 Mecha Pilot, he knew well: the Spirit Pagoda did not accept just anyone. Only prodigies of extraordinary talent received invitations.
So Fang Yang isn't ordinary at all…
With Fang Yang present, the soul master's tone instantly turned courteous and professional.
"The 30,000-credit option is for random draws—you might get a ten-year spirit, or possibly a hundred-year one. But the type is unpredictable, and likely mismatched with your martial soul. I don't recommend it. Better to choose a specific ten-year white spirit—it'll benefit your cultivation far more."
From their stunned reactions, he'd already guessed they couldn't afford a hundred-year spirit.
But with Fang Yang watching, he dared not be rude.
People's two eyes are parallel, yet they can look at people unequally. People's two ears are separate, yet they always prefer to hear one side of a story. People only have one mouth, yet they like to speak with two faces. The root cause is the heart at play; attitude is the mask of the heart.
Those with a heart will wear different masks to conceal their true thoughts when facing different environments, while those without a heart will not hide their true thoughts, only showing their true feelings, and thus cannot wear a mask.
When a mask is worn for too long, the true self also changes.
Tang Wulin turned to his father—his earlier excitement utterly extinguished.
Tang Ziran felt a pang in his chest. A bitter thought flashed through his mind:
If Wulin were truly my biological son… would I let him suffer this humiliation?
"The random draw might yield a hundred-year spirit," the soul master warned, "but it could also give you a defective one."
Tang Ziran frowned. "What's a defective soul spirit?"
"In creating artificial soul spirits, not every attempt succeeds. Defectives can be fused, but their effects are far weaker than standard ones. These are mixed into the random pool to prevent exploitation."
He glanced again at their humble clothes. "30,000 credits is no small sum for you. Please consider carefully."
Tang Wulin's eyes dimmed. Three years of relentless effort… only to face this?
"Son… maybe we should go home first. Dad will find another way…" Tang Ziran's voice wavered.
But Tang Wulin shook his head firmly. "Dad, you and Mom work so hard already. My martial soul's just Blue Silver Grass anyway… let's take the gamble."
Fang Yang watched silently. Not yet the time…
After all—kindness in hardship is worth far more than praise in prosperity.
"Very well," the soul master said. "Since you've chosen the random draw, we'll begin with a spiritual power test."
He glanced respectfully at Fang Yang. "Lord Fang Yang, please accompany us."
In the testing room, Tang Wulin's spiritual power registered at 38.
"Now… it's all up to luck," the soul master said, leading them to the next chamber.
Unsurprisingly, Tang Wulin drew a Grass Snake soul spirit.
The soul master's expression shifted slightly. "This… is a defective Grass Snake…"
Hope had been sweet. Reality was cruel.
Tang Ziran opened his mouth—but no sound came out.
Without a word, Tang Wulin grabbed the soul spirit orb and ran out of the room, head down.
"Wulin, wait!" Tang Ziran called out—regret crashing over him like a wave.
Fang Yang let out a quiet sigh. "Do you still have snake-type soul spirits in stock?"
"Oh yes, Lord Fang Yang! We have nine types available!" the soul master replied instantly.
"Then bring me a hundred-year Datura Snake soul spirit."
"At once!"
The soul master hurried off and quickly returned with a yellow-glowing soul spirit orb.
Fang Yang stored it in his ring and turned to Tang Ziran with gentle respect. "Uncle Tang, I'll go find Wulin."
The soul master bowed deeply at the door. "Lord Fang Yang, please walk safely."
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