Chapter 20: Still Spirit Village
The scene shifts.
Eight days have passed since Qian Ningshuang's group returned to Spirit City. Now, outside Notting City, in the quiet hamlet of Spirit Village…
The Tang God King—whose life so far aligns eerily with the ancient邪魂师 sect Xuan Tian Sect—has no idea that Gu Yue Na has already stepped out of Star Dou Great Forest two thousand years ahead of schedule.
Even if he did know, aside from perhaps sighing over the loss of a future daughter-in-law, there's little he could do. After all, he's still just a pre-awakening, iron-pumping boy with no martial soul to speak of.
And in this world already churned into chaos by transmigrators, whether he even *has* a son or daughter remains uncertain.
Watching Tang San hammer away at his ten-thousandth strike, Tang Hao couldn't help but grudgingly admire the sheer willpower of the unknown entity inhabiting his son's body.
Even more impressive were Tang San's mysterious self-created魂 skills—so refined that after nearly ten thousand repetitions, his palms showed not a single blister.
*When the time comes,* Tang Hao mused darkly, *I'll extract those techniques before ending him. They'd be perfect for reviving the Hao Tian Sect to its former glory.*
As the former heir of the Hao Tian Sect—and raised on classics like the Nine Hao Tian Secrets—Tang Hao prided himself on being the continent's foremost expert on self-created魂 skills.
He'd already assessed Tang San's techniques: the movement skill and ocular skill were masterful. But the hand-focused one? It felt tailor-made for the Hao Tian Sect.
Lost in thought as he forged farming tools, Tang Hao was interrupted by a familiar voice at the door.
"Tang Hao, busy?"
An elderly man in his sixties stood there—Old Jack, the village chief.
Tang Hao grunted in acknowledgment. Tang San didn't even look up.
In his past life, Tang San remembered every word Old Jack had spoken against his father. Though he wouldn't kill the old man—out of gratitude for years of charity—he certainly wouldn't offer kindness.
Old Jack didn't take offense. The Tangs treated everyone this way: cold, distant, indifferent. He'd long grown used to it.
Why help them at all? Simple neighborly decency. Coldness wasn't cruelty—they wouldn't let anyone starve.
Still, Old Jack had no interest in forcing friendship. He merely announced, "Bring Tang San to the martial soul awakening ceremony in three days," before leaving.
*Martial soul awakening…* Tang San's eyes gleamed. *Soon, I'll see Xiao Wu again! Six years… I've waited so long!*
Tang Hao glanced at his son's eager face—and lowered his eyes.
He could awaken Tang San's martial soul himself. But what if it wasn't Blue Silver Grass or the Hammer of Hao Tian? Would he kill the imposter on the spot? The body was still his son's…
Facing the truth—that his child's soul was gone—was too cruel.
Better to let Spirit Hall handle it. He'd watch from afar. If the martial soul wasn't right… he'd simply walk away and let fate take its course.
His hammer fell harder than ever.
Three days passed in a blink.
Tang San arrived at the village center—where a modest wooden hut bore the Spirit Hall insignia. No grand temple here; just a simple structure for rural awakenings.
His eyes narrowed at the emblem. He held Spirit Hall in utter contempt.
First, they'd killed his mother and Xiao Wu—yes, they'd been revived millennia later, but as the reborn Shura God King, he knew they'd die by Spirit Hall's hands *again*. That debt demanded repayment.
Second, from a god's perspective, Spirit Hall was insufferable. Their rigid control left the continent stagnant—only Spirit Masters brawling, no grand wars, no chaos to fuel divine faith. Worse, they suppressed all worship except the Angel God's. That alone warranted annihilation.
(He ignored the fact that Spirit Hall hadn't actively promoted Angelic faith in centuries. To him, the absence of *any* divine worship was unacceptable—and as a former God King, he owed it to the God Realm to correct this.)
Third, he owed vengeance to the Tang Sect. He believed Xuan Tian Sect was founded by earlier Tang Sect transmigrators—making its destruction by Spirit Hall a personal affront. As a loyal disciple, he *must* avenge them.
What if Xuan Tian Sect were邪魂师? Nonsense! To his enlightened godly eyes, "evil" was merely an alternative path to power—a necessary balance in the cosmos. As for those who died? Mortals were meant to perish—better their deaths serve the Tang Sect's rise.
Fourth, he had to follow his original path to godhood. And that path required Spirit Hall's destruction.
Yet, for now, he needed them to awaken his martial soul.
As he waited, Old Jack arrived—accompanied by a black-haired little girl.
"An'er," the old man said gently, "when the Spirit Master comes, be respectful."
"And don't be nervous. If you don't become a Spirit Master, that's fine. Grandpa's savings will let you live a peaceful, happy life."
Tang San frowned. He rarely left his home or the hillside, so he knew no village children. But according to his memories… this girl shouldn't exist.
Her striking features and grace would've left an impression. He'd remember her.
This discrepancy needed clarification.
"Village Chief," he called out, "who's this girl?"
"My granddaughter. And I'll warn you, Tang San—keep your eyes to yourself. Don't think your pigsty of a home qualifies you to court her."
Old Jack's tone was sharp. *This gloomy-faced brat thinks he can charm my granddaughter just because she's pretty?*
*My home is a "pigsty"? And who'd want your granddaughter anyway? My heart belongs to Xiao Wu!*
Tang San nearly snapped back—but swallowed the words.
"I was just asking."
He forced his murderous intent down. *Patience. I must follow the original timeline. Killing here would ruin my awakening.*