Tang San's attention was focused on the white egg.
"Let it be for now," Zhou Qing said after thinking for a moment, making a decision.
The Goddess of Light Butterfly, as a martial soul, was considered the epitome of beauty. Was beauty a type of attribute? Zhou Qing wasn't sure. However, as a soul beast, the Goddess of Light Butterfly was extremely rare. It was best to store it and keep it for future use.
The fact that the egg hadn't hatched in so many years suggested that its hatching conditions were strict, or perhaps the silver box that contained it was suppressing its hatching process.
But whatever the reason, it wasn't the right time to hatch it.
At the very least, Zhou Qing needed to gather more information on the Goddess of Light Butterfly before figuring out how to raise its offspring.
"Well, alright then," Tang San said, no longer pressing the matter. He glanced at the darkening sky, reluctantly putting down the soul guide crystal and heading back to his blacksmith shop.
"Dad, I'm back. I brought food," Tang San called out as he placed the rice balls on the table.
Tang Hao yawned and came out from the room. He grabbed a rice ball and shoved it into his mouth, suddenly asking, "For the past month, Old Jack hasn't brought over any farming tools. Do you know what's going on?"
With the forge now in the village, the villagers no longer relied on Old Jack to deliver farming tools. Tang Hao didn't mind; after all, he still got food every day, brought by Tang San. But there was a sense of discomfort, a feeling that his pride had been hurt.
In the past, when Old Jack would mention something, Tang Hao would brush it off. After all, he believed he could still provide for the village with his blacksmithing skills.
But now, with no work to do, that remaining pride was being wounded.
"A forge was built in the village," Tang San explained.
"Someone's stealing business?" Tang Hao raised an eyebrow. He wasn't the type to destroy others' businesses, but he still asked, "Who opened it?"
"Zhou Qing…"
"That kid?" Tang Hao muttered, disbelieving.
"And me," Tang San added.
Tang Hao's expression darkened as he crushed the rice ball in his hand and demanded, "...So, you're working for him, and the food you get is your payment? At such a young age, already so mercenary and cunning!"
Hearing Tang Hao's harsh words about Zhou Qing, Tang San frowned and replied, "I get my meals there. Besides, the villagers are not bad people."
Before meeting Zhou Qing, Tang San had thought that the villagers were prejudiced against the poor and favored the rich.
But now, despite still feeling that way sometimes, after spending time with Zhou Qing, he could see the villagers' pure side.
As Zhou Qing would say:
"Everyone just wants to survive."
Tang San looked intently at his father and gave his first real piece of advice. "Dad, why don't you go work in the city, or clear some land nearby? As long as you work, the villagers will stop gossiping. I've seen Uncle Li and Uncle Wang—yesterday, they fought over a small matter, but today, they're sitting together drinking. Dad, as long as you work, your relationship with the villagers will improve."
Tang Hao didn't say anything. He finished the rice ball and muttered, "They're just a bunch of illiterate, narrow-minded peasants."
"But aren't you, too?" Tang San retorted.
Tang San could tell that, despite his father's strong physique, Tang Hao had probably practiced some external martial arts, rather than simply being a physically strong man.
But no matter how glorious his past might have been, now he was just a blacksmith in Holy Soul Village. Why linger in the past? People needed to move forward!
After getting a taste of real food while staying with Zhou Qing, Tang San no longer wanted to live the difficult life with his father.
"You know nothing!" Tang Hao shouted, his eyes reddening, a burst of force emanating from him.
It was brief, quickly subsiding into a sullen, furious silence, but Tang San noticed it immediately—this aura was far from ordinary. Who exactly was his father? How could he possess such energy yet live in such a state of decline?
It was truly puzzling...
The Next Day
The next morning, as Tang San went to see Zhou Qing, Tang Hao unexpectedly left the house and walked down the village street.
The villagers, seeing him, kept their distance. Apart from the strong smell of alcohol, everyone in the village knew Tang Hao had a bad temper. With his large build, no one wanted to risk angering him.
Tang Hao walked around the street until he reached Zhou Qing's house, where he saw Tang San working in the blacksmith shop, holding a hammer and repairing a hoe blade for a farmer. Tang Hao frowned.
"Fixed it, Uncle Li, your hoe is good to go. No need for a full reforge," Tang San said, handing back the repaired tool.
After fixing the farm tool, Tang San realized that for farmers, as long as the tools were functional, they didn't need to be perfect. In the past, his father would have melted down old tools and reforged them.
Although Tang Hao's craftsmanship made tools more durable, they were also more expensive. For the villagers, as long as the tools worked, they preferred cheaper options.
The farmer, happily receiving his hoe, turned to see Tang Hao with a dark expression. He awkwardly smiled before quickly walking away with his tool.
"Dad," Tang San said, a bit surprised to see Tang Hao approaching.
"You're the blacksmith here?" Tang Hao's tone had an edge of sarcasm. "I never expected that the person stealing my livelihood would be my own son."
Tang San quickly invited his father inside and poured him some tea. "What brings you here, Dad?"
"I thought you were just helping out, running errands, fetching water, that sort of thing. I didn't realize you were actually a blacksmith." Tang Hao took a sip of tea, his voice cold. "And you're really repairing things like this?"
"Uh... the durability of regular tools may not be as high as those you melt down and reforge, but by repairing them, the time they'll last before they wear out is still considerable. Plus, the overall cost is even lower," Tang San explained, comparing the two approaches in terms of durability and cost.
But Tang Hao didn't care for these details.
He only saw Tang San as someone who was becoming mercenary, and his expression grew darker. "I see you're just greedy for money! I saw that man paid you earlier—hand it over!"
This was what really angered Tang Hao.
At such a young age, hiding away private money? Was this a sign of independence?
No way.
Even though Tang San had always been a bit different, he was still his son, carrying the bloodline of A Yin. Tang Hao couldn't let his son "fall" any further.
"Tang Hao!"
Old Jack suddenly ran over from a distance, followed by seven or eight burly men and five or six women, including the man who had just asked Tang San to repair the hoe.
It was him who had gone to find Old Jack.
"Tang Hao, what are you trying to do?" Old Jack demanded, his voice stern. "I heard you, all the way over here. Are you really asking your son for money? Isn't that a bit too much?"