Chapter 3: Chapter 1: Soul Land, Otherworldly Tang San (2)_1

Translator: 549690339

The martial arts recorded in the Mystic Sky Records are only six kinds, namely the internal strength technique Mysterious Heaven Method, hand training technique Mysterious Jade Hands, eye training technique Purple Demon Eyes, capturing technique Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon, lightness technique Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track, and the method of using hidden weapons, Hidden Weapons Hundred Solutions.

The first five are the foundation, without a solid foundation, how could one bring out the essence of the hidden weapons of the Tang Sect?

Starting to practice the Mysterious Heaven Method at a little over one year old, Tang San was now close to six, and he was still laying his foundation.

Tang San’s home was located on the west side of Saint Soul Village, at the head of the village. His three mud brick rooms were arguably the most rudimentary in the entire village. On the roof of the central house, there was a wooden sign about one meter in diameter with a crudely drawn hammer on it. A hammer is the most widely recognized symbol for a blacksmith in this world.

Indeed, Tang San’s father, Tang Hao, was a blacksmith, the only blacksmith in the village.

In this world, blacksmiths were considered one of the lowest occupations due to some special reason; the top weapons in this world were not forged by blacksmiths.

However, as the only blacksmith in the village, Tang San’s family should not be so poor, but most of that meager income was…

As soon as he entered the home, Tang San could smell the tantalizing scent of food. It wasn’t breakfast prepared by Tang Hao for him; rather, it was done by him for Tang Hao.

Since the age of four, when Tang San couldn’t even reach the stove, cooking had become his daily duty, even if he needed to stand on a stool to reach the stove surface.

It wasn’t that Tang Hao required this of him, but without doing so, Tang San would hardly ever have had a full meal.

Approaching the stove, he deftly stepped onto the stool, lifted the lid of the big iron pot, and the aroma of rice wafted into the air. The porridge in the pot had long been cooking until soft.

Every morning before heading up the mountain, Tang San would put the rice in the pot and set up the firewood; by the time he returned, the porridge would be ready.

Grabbing two bowls from beside the stove, both of which had over a dozen chips and cracks, Tang San carefully portioned out two bowls of porridge and placed them on the table behind him. The grains of rice in the porridge could be counted at a glance, a clear sign that the nutrition was insufficient for Tang San, who was growing. This was also why his body was so thin.

“Dad, time to eat,” Tang San called out.

After a while, the curtain of the inner room lifted and a tall figure walked out with somewhat staggering steps.

It was a middle-aged man who looked to be about fifty, but he had a very tall and sturdy build. His attire, however, left much to be desired.

Wearing a tattered robe without even patches to cover holes that showed the bronze skin underneath. His originally decent features were covered with a layer of sallow skin, his eyes were sleepy and his hair was a disheveled mess resembling a bird’s nest. His face was covered with an unkempt beard, and it was hard to tell how long it had been since he last groomed. His gaze was dull and yellowish, and even though a night had passed, the pungent smell of alcohol on him made Tang San unconsciously frown.

This is Tang Hao, Tang San’s father in this world.

Throughout his childhood, Tang San had never known what paternal love was. Tang Hao had always been indifferent to him. At first, he would prepare some food for him, but as time went on, and Tang San started cooking on his own, Tang Hao became even more neglectful. The main reason for the family’s poverty, the lack of even decent furniture, was Tang Hao spending their sparse blacksmith income on alcohol.

Children Tang San’s age usually had fathers around thirty years old, and those who married early were even younger, but Tang Hao looked much older than them, almost like Tang San’s grandfather.

Tang San never resented Tang Hao’s attitude; in his previous life, he was an orphan. In this life, though Tang Hao did not treat him well, he at least had a relative. To Tang San, that was more than enough. At least he had someone to call dad here.

Tang Hao grabbed a bowl from the table, heedless of the heat, and gulped down the porridge, which made his dull face appear slightly more lustrous.

“Dad, drink slowly, there’s more,” Tang San said as he took the bowl from his father’s hands and served him another helping of porridge. He then picked up his own bowl and started to drink.

During his time at the Tang Sect, he had never left the place and rarely had contact with the outside world. Being a blank slate then, reverting to a child in this world wasn’t unacceptable to him.

Soon, about seventy to eighty percent of the porridge was consumed by Tang Hao. He expelled a breath and placed the bowl on the table. His drooping eyelids opened a bit more, and he looked at Tang San.

“If there’s work to do, take it for now; I’ll do it in the afternoon. I’m going to sleep a bit more,” Hao said.

Tang Hao had a very regular routine: sleep in the morning, forge farm tools in the afternoon for income, and drink at night.

“Okay, Dad,” Tang San nodded.

Tang Hao stood up, feeling steadier after consuming a fair amount of porridge, and walked back toward the inner room.

“Dad,” Tang San suddenly called out.

Tang Hao stopped, turned his head to look at him, an obvious impatience in his brows.

Tang San pointed to the corner at a piece of raw iron with a faint dark sheen, “Can I use this iron?” In his previous life, he was the most outstanding external disciple of the Tang Sect, very familiar with creating various hidden weapons; of course, back then, all materials were provided by the Tang Sect. In this world, though he had practiced for a few years, his strength was still far from sufficient. Moreover, he had never thought to give up on creating the hidden weapons he was best at. He had already started trying to forge some, but materials were a big issue.

The metal Tang Hao used for forging farm tools came from villagers and was ordinary iron with a lot of impurities, which made it difficult to create fine hidden weapons. The piece of raw iron Tang San was pointing at had just arrived yesterday, and to Tang San’s surprise, it contained some iron essence, which was perfect for making hidden weapons.

Tang Hao’s gaze shifted to the raw iron, “Huh, there is iron essence in this?” He walked over, looked down at it, then turned back to Tang San, “Do you want to become a blacksmith in the future?”