At the gates of Hongshan Academy—
Tang Ziran dropped off Tang Wulin at the school entrance before heading off to work. The academy was close to home, so he simply reminded his son to come straight home after school.
He glanced toward the gate, where Nan Fusheng stood alone, and let out a soft sigh. He didn't say anything, just turned and walked away.
For the Soul Master Class, there were dedicated teachers stationed at the gate to receive students—an obvious upgrade in treatment compared to the regular class.
The ordinary class focused purely on cultural education, while the Soul Master Class not only covered that but also trained children born with innate soul power in the ways of becoming a soul master, laying the foundation for them to continue into intermediate academies.
This year's Soul Master Class had only sixteen students. Children born with innate soul power were rare, especially in a small city like Ao Lai. This was already considered a good number.
Meanwhile, inside the Soul Master Class…
"Hey, what's your martial soul?" A short, chubby boy waddled up to Nan Fusheng and asked with curiosity.
They were all kids the same age, and everyone was full of curiosity about their upcoming soul master training.
Nan Fusheng replied calmly, "It's a bug."
He raised his hand, revealing a semi-transparent insect lying quietly on his palm, occasionally squirming.
"Pfft." The chubby boy snorted dismissively. "A bug? Trash martial soul!"
With a sneer, he turned away and started asking the others about their martial souls.
Nan Fusheng didn't react. He just silently watched the boy wander off and mingle with the rest of the children, going around asking the same question.
Soon, the chubby boy made his way over to Tang Wulin, and the two seemed to get into a small argument.
"So what's yours, huh?" Tang Wulin asked, not backing down.
The chubby boy snorted, then waved his right hand. A flash of cold light appeared, and a short blade materialized in his grasp.
"See that? My martial soul is a knife. When I become a Title Douluo someday, I'll call myself the Blade God Douluo. I've got an innate soul power level of five. Those strands of Blue Silver Grass of yours? I could chop them into pieces with a flick of my wrist."
Looking at the short blade in his hand, then down at the humble Blue Silver Grass in his palm, Tang Wulin suddenly recalled something his father had told him the night before:
"It'll be very difficult to become a soul master with Blue Silver Grass…"
The other students all began showing off their martial skills, too, each with something unique or impressive. No matter what they were, they all seemed far better than Tang Wulin's grass.
Because of his "trash martial soul", the other students split into little cliques, and no one invited Tang Wulin to join.
Nan Fusheng watched the scene unfold and knew it was time to make his move.
"I believe you can become a powerful soul master."
The soft voice behind him made Tang Wulin turn his head. It was him—the boy from this morning, Tang Wulin thought.
Just as he was about to say something in return, their homeroom teacher clapped her hands.
"Alright, everyone, listen up. I'm your teacher, Lin Ximeng. Over the next three years, I'll be teaching you the fundamentals of being a soul master. Let's start with introductions—tell us your name, martial soul, and innate soul power level."
With only sixteen students, introductions went quickly.
When Lin Ximeng heard that Tang Wulin's martial soul was Blue Silver Grass, and Nan Fusheng's was a bug, she was taken aback. The other students burst into laughter.
Nan Fusheng didn't care. His martial soul didn't look impressive—just a translucent insect. Compared to Blue Silver Grass, at least Tang Wulin had the fallback of "hard work can make it stronger"—the founding ancestor of the Tang Sect, Tang San, had evolved it into Blue Silver Emperor.
But what was he supposed to say? he was going to turn out like Huo Yuhao?
That guy had a hundred-thousand-year soul beast sacrifice and was gifted an ancient inheritance by a grandfatherly soul. Nan Fusheng only had the "Lord of the Mysteries" legacy—and not even the complete version.
Still, he amused himself with the thought.
On the other side, Tang Wulin was having a much harder time. Even though Nan Fusheng had comforted him earlier, now they were both being mocked.
But Tang Wulin was still a child—his mindset wasn't as stable as Nan Fusheng's. His small face flushed red, fists clenched, his heart burning with frustration.
Lin Ximeng quickly resumed her calm demeanor.
"Since this is your first day, I'll begin by teaching you about the types of martial souls. This afternoon, we'll begin with basic meditation training—the only way to cultivate and increase your soul power. If you want to become real soul masters, you'll need to work hard!"
"In our world, everyone is born with a martial soul. Most people awaken their martial soul at age six. If you're born with soul power, you can cultivate and become a soul master, which includes all of you here."
"Martial souls fall into two major types: Beast Souls and Tool Souls. If the soul manifests as a living creature, it's a Beast Soul. If it's a non-living object, it's a Tool Soul."
"As you cultivate your soul power, your martial soul strengthens with it. Once your soul power reaches level 10, you'll be able to officially become a soul master."
"There are also two major paths of soul masters: Battle Soul Masters, who train their martial soul for combat; and Support Soul Masters, who use their martial soul for non-combat purposes. And within both paths, there are many more subdivisions…"
As Lin Ximeng spoke in depth about martial souls and soul master classes, Tang Wulin's anger slowly faded. He had always been fascinated by soul masters. Now, this knowledge opened up a new world before him, like a magical doorway beckoning him in.
Nan Fusheng listened carefully, too. Even though he knew most of this from reading the Douluo novels, reality always had its differences, especially when some authors occasionally ignored their canon.
After finishing the lecture on soul cultivation basics, Lin Ximeng began teaching the written language of the Douluo Continent. After all, even soul masters weren't born with knowledge.
Nan Fusheng paid less attention to this part—he'd already studied the language on his own.
Before long, it was lunchtime. The academy provided a meal, and for the Soul Master Class, it was unlimited.
Although Nan Fusheng had a slightly larger appetite than the average kid, he was nothing compared to the black hole that was Tang Wulin.
Tang Wulin ate so much that the others started calling him "the bottomless pit."
His portion was almost equivalent to half the class's combined intake, more than even a grown adult would eat. It left Tang Wulin visibly embarrassed.
"Being able to eat is a blessing. Honestly, I envy how carefree you are when you eat."
Tang Wulin turned to look—it was him again, the boy from this morning.
"You believe I can become a strong soul master?"
Tang Wulin looked at Nan Fusheng, unsure how to express himself. After a pause, he stammered out the question.
"Of course," Nan Fusheng said, repeating a line even he didn't quite believe.
"Didn't that famous 'Grandmaster'—Sea God Tang San's teacher—once say: 'There are no useless martial souls, only useless soul masters'?"
Tang Wulin clenched his fists.
"You're right. There are no useless martial souls—only useless soul masters. Thank you."
Watching the mentally boosted Tang Wulin, Nan Fusheng nodded along.
That short exchange brought the two of them closer—the beginning of a quiet friendship.