Chapter 148: My Spirit Soul, So Fierce

Ding dang! Ding dang!!

Inside the ironwork shop north of Yongchun City, the furnace blazed fiercely, and five or six strong men were hammering iron.

The master sat nearby, watching his apprentices swing large and small hammers in rhythmic succession, sipping slowly from a purple clay teapot, nodding silently in approval.

The tall, thin boy stepped into the shop and saw, arranged at the front, not only farm tools and kitchen knives, but also long blades and swords, gleaming with cold light; he clenched his lips.

He passed through the shop and entered the back courtyard, pushing open a room adjacent to the storage shed.

The room was filled with dust and clutter, all piled into the corners, with a single table in the center.

Beside the table stood a long shoulder pole and two bamboo baskets.

A dark-skinned man, with an old scar faintly visible at his collarbone, was arranging oil-paper packets and black-yellow powders on the table.

The hundreds who had fled into the city due to pirate killings and arson were not all destitute.

Those with servants or retainers simply found an inn to stay in; some even had relatives in the city, making it even easier.

But this tall, thin boy and his uncle, by their clothing and appearance, were clearly not wealthy.

Somehow, they had rented a room in the back courtyard of this ironwork shop.

The boy said: “I delivered the two children from Li Sheng’s family, then left town with the County Magistrate—and we actually found the man who killed the pirates.”

The man replied: “I’ve already inquired about the County Magistrate—he’s just an incompetent official.”

“But what is the background of the man who killed the pirates?”

The boy said: “I couldn’t find out anything—he never speaks. But I feel he’s different from ordinary martial artists; even the County Magistrate, out of deference to his views, ordered his men to help everyone find work.”

The man paused his work, his voice low.

“Do you think he’s a true righteous hero?”

The man turned around, beads of sweat on his forehead, his eyes distant.

“But the more I think about it, the more I feel fear.”

“He was sitting by the roadside. When I saw him, I thought he was a child—I couldn’t help calling out for him to run with us. You were even worse—you actually reached out to grab him.”

“But now I think carefully—he wore fine fabric, and his attire was unusual. He was clearly a martial artist.”

“Given our experience, how could we have had no suspicion toward a martial artist?”

The boy froze: “This morning someone came asking if I’d had contact with him—the County Magistrate wants to take me out of town to identify him. Why didn’t you let me refuse?”

The man fell silent for a long while, then said: “Your father said that among martial artists, those with strange habits or abnormal demeanors are often more dangerous than ordinary people—but may also be more trustworthy than typical martial artists.”

“I—I was just confused. I hadn’t made any decision yet, yet I silently let you go.”

“When the pirates appeared yesterday, I thought our pursuers had caught up. Even though later I saw they were just ordinary pirates, not specifically hunting us.”

“Still… it left me shaken for a long time.”

The boy comforted him: “Uncle, you’ve never been skilled at making martial decisions. The fact that we’ve survived half a year on the run is already remarkable.”

The man nodded.

“Anyway, yesterday’s pirate incident shook me deeply. If we hadn’t been hunted down, but were just killed by some random bandits or thieves, wouldn’t that be even more unjust?”

“This city is better than the countryside—it has shops selling swords and blades to martial artists. I can use this place to acquire more means of defense.”

The boy replied: “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, Uncle. If you rebuild our sect’s unique weapons, and you ever use them, someone will surely recognize them.”

The man smiled bitterly: “Didn’t we once deliberately avoid using our skills for a while—and still got hunted down? If not for Uncle Four, Aunt Four, and Seventh Brother, who fought to the death with them, how could you and I have escaped?”

The boy said nothing more.

They had posed as traveling merchants injured by river pirates, resting in town for half a month.

It gave him false hope—that if he abandoned the things that could identify them, they could live peacefully.

But his uncle was right.

Even without being hunted, they’d still been attacked by pirates.

At dusk, fish-scale clouds filled the western sky, while the east remained a clear, cloudless blue.

The people at the ironwork shop finished work earlier than usual; the apprentices returned home, and the master, who didn’t live here, had lent the shop to the uncle and nephew.

Before leaving, the master had tried to persuade them to stay and watch, but the man had gently convinced him to go.

All because when the man first entered the shop, he had shown a single skill—making the master instantly recognize him as an expert.

As long as he sheltered this uncle and nephew, even if they refused to reveal their secrets, the shop’s business would improve when they forged better blades.

Only the uncle and nephew remained in the shop.

The boy pulled the bellows, tending the furnace.

The man indeed took out a packet of powder and, as instructed, re-forged and quenched two long swords from the shop.

But as night deepened and the streets grew empty, what he hammered was no longer those swords.

Thin sheets of high-grade steel gradually formed between the anvil and hammer, repeatedly heated and reforged.

The man forged a series of cylindrical tubes, each the size and thickness of the boy’s little finger.

Though called tubes, their bottoms were not sealed—they had a small hole left open.

After several dips in medicinal solution and full cooling,

the boy picked up one, his eyes brimming with uncontainable joy.

Though he sometimes wished to leave these things behind, every time he saw the finished product, he couldn’t help but love them.

Though hammered from iron, the surface of the tiny tube was mirror-smooth, showing not a single hammer mark.

The boy released it, letting it gently fall onto the anvil.

A clear, hollow chime rang out.

Disciples from Fire God Gully, with their Qi trained in their ears, could tell at once—this sound meant not a single hidden crack.

The man returned to the room with these items, sealed the tube bottoms with metal discs, filled them with medicinal powder, capped them with beads, and silently exerted his fingers—his unique internal skill, specially tuned for blending the powder, seeped inward, gently twisting and tightening.

He also rummaged through the bottom of the bamboo baskets, among the inexplicable clutter, and retrieved small components, assembling them together.

Two black, matte firearms took shape—each less than a foot long, with thick, sturdy grips.

Meanwhile, the boy sealed the air vents of the sword-forging furnace, letting the fire die down naturally, cleaned all traces from the shop, and came to the back courtyard.

Both uncle and nephew were exhausted; they didn’t bathe, ate a few steamed buns, drank a bowl of water, and prepared to sleep in their clothes.

They were accustomed to this life.

Straw mats and bedding were laid directly on the ground—already far more comfortable than sleeping outdoors.

The uncle slept first during the first half of the night; the boy sat leaning against the wall.

Around the middle of the night, the boy called out twice, and the uncle woke.

“You sleep.”

The man rubbed his eyes, moved to the wall, and took watch.

The boy, half-asleep, felt he had dozed off—but uneasily—and vaguely heard the sound of flapping wings.

He forced his eyes open just as a bat pierced the window and flew inside, hanging upside down from the rafters.

The bat’s two tiny eyes glowed emerald-bright, like rare jewels.

The man stared at the bat, sensing something deeply odd.

Outside the house, two voices sounded.

“Hahaha! I told you—once my bat recovered, it could sniff out the bloodlines of Fire God Gully’s families and track down their fleeing kin.”

“Big Brother, you’re truly brilliant. Outside, I didn’t notice anything, but inside this shop, I can smell it—the unmistakable scent of Fire God Gully’s medicinal powder.”

The two voices came from far and near, east and west; after speaking, they still laughed their strange, echoing laughs.

“You’re Xu Ben and Xu Zhicheng, aren’t you? The items must be in your hands.”

A third voice joined in.

Three strange tones echoed throughout the room.

Xu Zhicheng tried to rise—but felt the world spinning, his vision darkening.

Only two green dots at the very top remained motionless.

Yet those unmoving greens were more nauseating than the swirling darkness around him.

Xu Zhicheng felt himself falling into a deep vortex, forever sinking into darkness.

At that moment, a sudden flash of fire lit the room.

As the silver beads shot from the firearms, spiral patterns appeared on their surfaces, glowing red-hot.

The rapidly spinning beads struck the bat on the rafter—and split open the instant they entered its body.

BOOM!!

The bat exploded into a splash of blood spraying backward; the two green dots vanished.

Xu Zhicheng jolted awake, hearing his uncle’s shout.

“Run!”

Xu Ben smashed through the door and rolled into the courtyard.

In the moment he rolled out, the two firearms fired four times in succession.

Roof tiles shattered; the paving stones outside the windows exploded into shards.

Two more shots fired straight into the night sky.

The two beads’ trajectories precisely collided midair—and exploded apart.

The shadow darting through the darkness was grazed by the fragments—and suddenly became visible.

Black clothing, black cloak, flipped sideways to the ground.

With one man gone, the eerie surrounding tones lost a crucial note.

Xu Ben’s ears twitched slightly; his hands adjusted minutely.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!!

Flames spat out, invisible strikes erupted one after another from all sides, causing objects to shatter.

Xu Ben’s two firelocks could fire forty times in succession.

Each round could pierce chainmail at over a hundred paces, especially with their ability to ricochet midair—impossible to defend against.

Three agile figures with elusive martial arts were temporarily held off by him alone.

The room was empty.

Xu Zhicheng had already grabbed two baskets and jumped out the window to flee.

It was always like this.

Every time they were hunted, some of them disappeared—now, only two remained.

After tonight, there might be only one left.

Xu Zhicheng’s eyes burned, and he sprinted with gritted teeth.

He wouldn’t run blindly like before—he would take a gamble.

At dusk, the fish-scale clouds slowly spread out, growing larger and farther apart, filling the entire sky.

But the clouds had thinned as a result.

The moon still shone through the clouds.

Chu Tianshu sat upright on a long bench, hands resting on his knees, gazing up at the moon and clouds.

He had heard the noise from the blacksmith’s shop and turned to see a tall, thin boy sprinting toward him.

The boy was drenched in sweat, his forehead slightly red—a mark left from bowing hard when leading the villagers to thank them.

“Great hero!”

Xu Zhicheng, gasping for breath, forced out a full sentence in a hoarse cry.

“I’m from the Xu family of Fire God Gully—this holds the secret of a weapon that can change the world. I give it to you—please!”

“Please save my uncle!!”

The secret of a weapon that can change the world?

Change the world!

Weapon!

The Weapon Soul suddenly stirred with intense emotion, but it was complex—hard to pinpoint exactly what it felt.

He wanted to purge the clutter, but couldn’t suppress it.

“Boy, since you’ve shown sense and surrendered, why not hand over the artifact to us?”

Three black-clad figures leapt onto the rooftop along the long street.

One of them held Xu Ben by the arm.

Xu Ben was only one man—he could fire at maximum speed, but only hold them off briefly.

His furious expression contrasted with his limp limbs—he’d been seized at a major acupoint, rendered powerless.

All three wore identical robes, cloaks draped over them, masks covering the upper halves of their faces, each with distinct beards—long or short.

They were the infamous Yin Wind Trio, known for their tracking skills, serving Chen Zuqi, the largest pirate lord in the southeast.

“Your uncle is still alive—for now. But the moment I unleash my power, he’ll drop dead on the spot.”

The black-clad man sneered, “Think carefully—who should you give it to?”

Another black-clad man said, “There are few survivors left in Fire God Gully. If we get the secret but can’t decipher it, that’d be a waste. No more talk—capture both uncle and nephew alive.”

They spoke like this, yet made no move.

Those from Fire God Gully had some discernment.

Xu Zhicheng had turned to that young man for help—so the man was no ordinary person.

The Yin Wind Trio deliberately ignored Chu Tianshu, hoping to provoke him into speaking up and revealing his identity.

Chu Tianshu looked at the three men on the rooftop, then around him.

So many humans—full of malice.

Boom!!

A sound like a great drum rang from Chu Tianshu’s body—his aura erupted.

The Yin Wind Trio felt their pupils tremble, vision blur, hairs stand on end, and instinctively tried to dodge away.

But Chu Tianshu had already snapped off a corner of the bench and hurled the piece of wood.

The arm of the black-clad man holding Xu Ben exploded at the elbow.

Blood sprayed, mixed with low-quality wood fragments that had slammed into the elbow bone and shattered together.

The black-clad man screamed and staggered backward.

Xu Ben rolled off the rooftop and landed on the street.

Xu Zhicheng moved to help his uncle, but felt dizzy, his vision swimming, limbs weak.

After the aura spread, more figures appeared on rooftops and alley mouths.

Though not crushed by the pressure, they were forced to abandon their concealed states and confront it openly.

“Such overwhelming aura!”

One masked elder in blue robes spoke in a hoarse voice, “We’ve tracked the Yin Wind Trio this far, clashed with them several times—our identities are understood.”

“But if we keep acting alone, the artifact will surely fall into this man’s hands—none of us will get a share.”

Chu Tianshu had already reached out and grasped the basket.

All eyes sharpened.

Save the uncle, and you get the weapon secret.

Now it’s mine.

The Weapon Soul gripped the basket, studied it, didn’t rummage through its contents—instead, his fingers hooked the basket’s edge and tugged gently.

A complete strip of bamboo slat came free.

The bamboo’s surface bore countless tiny characters, finer than ants—its ink matched the bamboo’s color, woven into the basket and hidden inward, nearly invisible.

Seeing this, all onlookers understood—the secret was hidden on the bamboo slats.

The Weapon Soul pulled out a second bamboo slat.

Placed together, the partial images formed a rough outline.

The Weapon Soul’s expression turned blank.

He couldn’t read—but why couldn’t he even understand the pictures?

Oh, the master’s back!

All saw his blank stare suddenly shift to delight, then calm.

Chu Tianshu blinked, seeing two bamboo slats in his hands.

A young man knelt beside him; a middle-aged man lay on the street.

Around him, a crowd of masked figures; on the rooftop, three black-clad men—one with a severed arm.

Wait—I’ve only been in this world for less than two days.

Based on past transmigration experience, at this point I should be looking for a place to eat, rest, and train.

Why now do I seem to have drawn so many enemies?

(End of Chapter)