In the end, Mo Lan’s husband had led their young son out of the critical care unit. Reining in his emotions had been a hard task in that cold, clinical wing. Yet, he also could not for the life of him keep away from it. He had specially rented a suite near the hospital to that end, hired a nanny to help look after his son. If it weren’t for his son’s constant cries, he never would have brought him to the ward to begin with.

  Noticing his nephew-disciple’s distress, Zhen Hua approached Tang Wulin’s side and patted him on the shoulder. Tang Wulin glanced up, despair in his eyes. “Uncle-master, why must so many people do evil upon others?

  Releasing a long sigh, Zhen Hua said, “There’s no real reason. When there’s good, there must be bad. Two sides of the same coin.” He frowned. “There’s no use in praying for justice. Work hard and gain the strength to protect those dear to you with your own hands.”


  A cloud settled upon Tang Wulin’s face. “I’m still too weak. I couldn’t protect Big Sis Mo Lan.”


  Zhen Hua pressed his lips into a thin smile. “Foolish child. You’ve already done all that can be expected of you at your age. In fact, you’ve exceeded all expectations. Do you know how scared I was when I found you completely soaked in blood? Just remember, no matter what, your safety comes first. If you die, that’ll be the end of everything.”


  “Yes.”


  Zhen Hua grinned. “I’m telling you this for your sake. I want to see you thrive! Your master’s got a really good disciple. I’m really envious.” His words of praise were shocking, but they came from the bottom of his heart. It was rare for him to evaluate someone so highly. Tang Wulin was an unprecedented blacksmithing prodigy with the unyielding will, dedication, and passion needed for success. But what made him truly shine was his character. He had the courage to sacrifice himself for others. Noticing this trait about Tang Wulin, Zhen Hua couldn’t help but put aside his competitive streak against Mu Chen and come to love Tang Wulin like a son.

  It was unthinkable for a fourteen-year-old boy to accomplish such heroic feats. He was a fearless newborn calf, turning heads with the unadulterated good of his actions.

  When Zhen Hua had rescued Tang Wulin, he had resolved himself to raise Tang Wulin to greatness. Even if Tang Wulin wasn’t his disciple, Tang Wulin was still a member of the Blacksmith’s Association. As a Divine Blacksmith, it was his responsibility to nurture such a talented boy.

  An hour soon passed. Light footsteps approached from the hall. Zhen Hua looked up when the door opened. A woman entered with brisk steps and before he could take another breath, she stood before him.

  Anxiously waiting the whole hour, Tang Wulin tilted his head upward to see the identity of the mysterious woman. To his astonishment, it was someone he recognized: Holy Spirit Douluo Yali.

  Yali acknowledged Zhen Hua with a nod, then turned to Tang Wulin with a warm smile. “So it was you again. I heard about what you did last time too. You’ve done well. You bring honor to Shrek Academy.” She placed a hand on Tang Wulin’s head, rubbed it, and poured a warmth into him, dispelling the dark energies whispering in his core. A sense of ease settled in his heart.

  Mo Wu quickly walked over and bowed in respect. He didn’t recognize Yali, but her high status was obvious by her interactions with Zhen Hua. “Hello. I am Mo Wu, Mo Lan’s father.” He refrained from mentioning his position as an administrator because at this moment in time, before anything else, he was a father worried about his daughter.

  Yali peered through the glass, her gaze settling on Mo Lan’s pale and still body. Her brows knitted, a frown sliding across her lips. “Alright. I’m going to examine her.”


  The doctors and nurses Mo Wu had called in preparation for Yali’s arrival offered her a set of sterile garments. She rejected them, and with a wave of her hand, sterilized her entire body with a flash of light. She proceeded to enter the room, passing through two sets of doors before she reached Mo Lan’s sickbed.

  Tang Wulin anxiously watched from behind the glass. Mo Wu did the same. Although Mo Wu didn’t know who she was, he had no doubts in her ability.

  Yali caressed Mo Lan’s shaven head gently, fingers feeling for every bump and dent. She examined her patient. Her eyes held compassion as she took in the immense swelling. Nine soul rings appeared around her, six black and three red. Besides Zhen Hua, everyone else around was astonished by the sight.

  Tang Wulin had seen the soul rings of Zhuo Shi and Feng Wuyu before, but neither had rings as impressive as Yali’s. Her soul ring composition was only possible with two ten-thousand-year spirit souls and a hundred-thousand-year spirit soul. In this current era, few, if any, soul master could top that!

  Longing flickered in Tang Wulin’s heart. When will I reach that level? I have to become as strong as her! Not even Elder Cai or Grandteacher can compare with the Holy Spirit Douluo!

  Meanwhile, Mo Wu stared with his mouth wide open. “The Holy Spirit Douluo?” Voice weak and barely audible. “Lord Zhen Hua, is that her?” As a politician of the Federation, he naturally had basic knowledge of all the known Titled Douluos, and the only healing-type soul master known to reach the Titled Douluo level was the Holy Spirit Douluo. She had a unique healing-type martial soul. The Angel of Hope. It was exceptionally hard to cultivate. As the realization dawned on him, his heartbeat quickened, a joyful staccato for the impending tune. With the Holy Spirit Douluo treating his daughter, there was no need to worry. Mo Lan would wake up. He couldn’t begin to express his gratitude.

  The Holy Spirit Douluo’s legend was far from publicized. She had never been one to chase fame. However, all the higher ups of the Federation were privy to her existence.

  Yali’s heart had always been kind, an ocean deep with empathy. Although she had been born in the slums, when she became a soul master and obtained the opportunity to leave, she chose to stay. She chose to help those that society had turn its back on. By doing so, Yali unknowingly cultivated the Angel of Hope, the energy from patients’ faith a prime factor for her martial soul’s growth. Before she knew it, she had stepped forward into the realm of Soul King.

  Of course, her cultivation did not stop there. About fifty years ago, when she was still a seven-ringed Soul Sage, an epidemic spread across the continent, ruthless in its approach. Millions gone, some without the luxury of a marked grave.

  Yali would not have it.

  In the span of fifteen days, she traveled through all fourteen provinces of the continent, bringing only herself and the clothes on her back. Not a single person was turned away from her treatment. Over that period, she continuously drew on her faith energy and life force to push on. It slashed fifty years from her lifespan, drove her onto her deathbed at the very end of it, and she was delivered back to Shrek Academy comatose.

  But her sacrifice had been worth it. From the next day onward, those plagued by the disease showed signs of recovery. The energy of their faith trickled into Yali at first, gradually transforming into rushing river.

  One year later, she awakened. A Soul Sage into a Titled Douluo, the quickest in history.