"Should we continue pursuing Tang Xiao's whereabouts?"
Golden Crocodile stood respectfully within the Offering Hall, his tone measured. Matters of this scale were no longer handled casually. Although Qian Renxue still held the title of Supreme Pontiff, true authority within Spirit Hall rested with the man before him.
Qian Daoliu.
The Angel God statue loomed silently overhead, radiating a sacred stillness that pressed down on the hall. Qian Daoliu stood beneath it, hands clasped behind his back, gaze distant.
"Clear Sky Sect… Tang Chen…" he murmured, then exhaled slowly.
He had not expected that the sect of an old friend would fade in such a way.
First absorbed. Then hollowed out. Finally erased—its ancestral grounds now occupied by Beast God Academy, its name sinking quietly into history, leaving nothing but fragments and regrets.
"Any news from the Training Ground?" Qian Daoliu asked, his voice already calm again.
He walked to the tea table, lifted a cup, raised it to his brow, and bowed toward the empty air before gently pouring the tea onto the stone floor.
The fragrance spread softly, like an unspoken farewell.
"No," Golden Crocodile replied. "Since Tang Xiao left with his wife, there has been no trace of either of them. Not on the Continent. Not in the Training Ground."
"Tang Long and Tang Hu searched extensively—Blue Silver Forest, Star Dou Great Forest—but found nothing."
"The arrest warrant will proceed as normal," Qian Daoliu said indifferently. "No special pursuit is necessary. If he can truly live in seclusion, then let him."
He paused briefly.
"As for that old oath… there is no need to publicize it."
Golden Crocodile bowed. "Understood."
As he turned to leave, Qian Daoliu added without looking up, "While you were away, branch hall matters accumulated. Go handle them."
Golden Crocodile froze internally.
Again?
"Qian Jun and Jiang Mo are guarding the medicinal garden," Qian Daoliu continued calmly. "Xiong Shi, Guang Ling, and Gui Mei are in closed enlightenment. The others went to sea searching for relics."
He finally lifted his gaze slightly.
"You're the idlest."
Golden Crocodile opened his mouth, glanced at his Big Brother leisurely sipping tea beneath the Angel God statue, and swallowed the words aren't you idle too?
He bowed deeply and left for the Supreme Pontiff Palace.
"A new blacksmith has appeared in Saint Spirit Village?"
Golden Crocodile frowned at the intelligence report in his hand. Anything reported up to this level was never trivial.
The deacon bowed. "Yes. He calls himself Tang Ren. His face is severely disfigured. His wife closely resembles the transformed Spirit Beast Ah Yin."
Golden Crocodile cut him off. "Strength?"
"None," the deacon replied cautiously. "No spirit power at all. He claims catastrophic injuries destroyed his cultivation and shattered his Spirit."
"Our instructors examined him. His meridians are twisted and severed, consistent with Spirit self-detonation. Survival alone is… miraculous."
Golden Crocodile was briefly startled—then remembered something.
Tang Xiao had once drawn a fourth-grade auxiliary body-refining manual.
"Name doesn't match. Appearance doesn't match. Strength doesn't match," he said flatly. "Then he isn't Tang Xiao."
"The Continent is vast. Similar faces are not rare."
The deacon immediately understood. "Yes."
"Tang Ren! Tang Ren!"
Old Jack's voice rang out across Saint Spirit Village.
"Coming!"
The clang of iron echoed as a bare-chested man lifted the blacksmith shop's curtain. Steam rose from the hammer in his hand, sweat rolling down his broad back.
A towel hung over his shoulder. His smile was simple, almost foolishly honest.
"What's the hurry, Village Head?"
Old Jack's heart still trembled every time he saw him.
Cotton cloth covered Tang Ren's eyes. His right ear was little more than a ragged stump. Scar tissue tore diagonally across his face, destroying any trace of his former appearance.
Most striking of all was the empty left sleeve swaying in the wind.
And yet his single remaining arm held the heavy forging hammer with absolute stability.
Children cried when they saw him at first. Over time, they learned to stay away. Tang Ren rarely left the shop now—his wife handled all outside matters.
"Every time I see you," Old Jack sighed, "I wonder whether letting my grandson become a Spirit Master is the right choice."
Tang Ren laughed. "Whether Spirit Master or blacksmith, as long as you're content, life is good."
Old Jack handed him a packet. "Prenatal tonic. My son brought it back from the city."
Tang Ren tried to refuse. Failed. In the end, he forced a freshly forged hoe into Old Jack's hands.
"You must take it," he insisted. "Otherwise I won't dare accept medicine again."
Old Jack chuckled, pulled him closer, and nagged at the doorway.
"You're crippled, but your wife stayed. Treat her well. The last blacksmith was a drunk who beat his kids—don't be like that."
Tang Ren nodded patiently.
Only after Old Jack left did he return inside, hammering away.
He had been making protective gear lately. The village children practiced often. He didn't want them getting hurt.
At dusk, a blue-haired woman returned with a basket.
"All sold," she said cheerfully. "I bought meat."
She tied her apron. "I'll cook tonight."
Tang Ren didn't stop working. "I'll help after this."
"What's that?" she asked, noticing the packet.
"Village Head's gift."
She gently touched her belly, smiling. "Then we should send food back to him later."
"Alright."
Old Jack's voice rang out again.
"Spirit Hall's here!"
She stiffened. Tang Ren squeezed her hand lightly and led her out.
Su Yuntao was crouched with the children, showing the Spirit Hall emblem. When he looked up—
His pupils shrank.
The document in his hand nearly slipped.
But he controlled himself.
"You're Tang Ren?" he asked evenly. "Records might be missing. We're re-registering."
Since Tang Ren couldn't see, the paper was handed to his wife.
"Yes," she nodded happily. "That's the name."
Su Yuntao nodded.
"Spirit Hall would like to hire you as a village instructor. Teaching basics. Presiding over awakenings. One gold coin monthly."
Tang Ren smiled. "I'm willing."
"Good."
The tools were handed over. Su Yuntao declined hospitality and left.
Old Jack was ecstatic.
"You've got steady income now!"
"The shop stays open," Tang Ren said.
Children gathered.
"Uncle Tang, were you really powerful?"
Tang Ren sat cross-legged to seem less frightening.
"Of course. I charged through bandits three times—"
"Liar!"
"There's always someone stronger," he said lightly.
Laughter replaced fear.
Night fell.
After the last child was dragged home by the ear, Tang Ren remained sitting quietly.
He suddenly laughed.
"What's funny?" his wife asked.
"I thought of names," he said, hugging her precisely despite his blindness.
"If it's a boy—Tang Yi. A girl—Tang Li."
She laughed. "Ren, Yi, Li, Zhi, Xin?"
"Exactly," he grinned. "We'll need all of them."
She leaned into his arms, cheeks flushed.
For the first time in a long while—
The world was quiet.