Douluo Continent III Haotian Wulin

The lobby of Mangtian Studio was not clean.

Various metal parts and semi-finished components were scattered everywhere—on the floor, on shelves, and beside tables—many bearing obvious signs of cutting and hammering. Tang Wulin could only barely recognize some of them as components of a soul-guided mecha, while most were completely incomprehensible.

Mang Tian did not linger in the front hall, but went straight through the corridor and led him into a studio further inside.

It's noticeably cleaner here.

In the very center stood a heavy forging table, with some basic tools beside it, and various metal blanks neatly stacked on shelves along the wall. A faint smell of fire and iron permeated the air, and the quiet atmosphere carried a unique sense of oppression characteristic of the workshop.

Mang Tian stopped and turned to look at Tang Wulin.

Do you know what forging is?

Tang Wulin shook his head honestly.

"have no idea."

Mang Tian looked at him for a while before speaking calmly:

"Actually, I didn't want to take you in at first. You're too young, a six-year-old child, you haven't even developed the strength yet, you're not suitable to work in the workshop at all. If it weren't for your father's insistence, I wouldn't have even agreed to let you in."

That was a very blunt remark.

Any other child would probably have been frightened. But Tang Wulin just stared at him with his eyes open, neither backing down nor trying to argue back.

Seeing this, Mang Tian continued:

"However, since you're here, I'll give you a chance."

He pointed to the metal platform used for force measurement not far away.

"Do you see that round metal block?"

"I saw it." Tang Wulin nodded.

"You don't need any other tools today," Mang Tian said, looking at him. "Summon your martial spirit and use your hammer to strike it a thousand times."

Tang Wulin was stunned for a moment.

"Use...my martial spirit?"

"What, you don't dare?" Mang Tian raised an eyebrow.

Tang Wulin immediately shook his head: "It's not that I don't dare. I just didn't expect that forging could be done directly using a martial soul."

Mang Tian said calmly, "An ordinary forging hammer is a tool, and a weapon spirit is also a tool. The only difference is whether you can control it. Since your weapon spirit is a hammer, if you can't even do the most basic hammering, then learning forging is just a waste of both of your time."

After saying that, he added:

"This is your first task for today. Knock a thousand times. You don't need to separate your left and right hands, but each knock must be forceful. The counter below will count automatically. If you don't finish, you don't need to come in tomorrow."

Tang Wulin looked up at the round metal platform, then looked down at his hands.

The next moment, a flash of dark light appeared, and the little black hammer was already in his palm.

Its appearance seemed to make the air in the studio feel heavier.

Tang Wulin himself was unaware of this, only subconsciously tightening his grip on the hammer handle. Contrary to what others might expect, after summoning his martial soul, his face showed not fear, but rather a strange sense of relief.

He was familiar with this hammer.

Although it is heavy, although it is strange, and although others think it is insignificant, it is, after all, his own martial soul, an existence that he has been able to feel since the day he awakened.

Mang Tian stood to the side, watching this scene. His gaze shifted slightly, but he remained silent.

Tang Wulin walked to the metal platform, took a deep breath, gripped the hammer with both hands, and tried to lift the small black hammer.

As usual when it was summoned, the hammer was still heavy.

But that heaviness wasn't an unbearable weight; rather, it felt like a familiar pressure that he had gradually grown accustomed to. When he swung the hammer, he even vaguely felt that his arms, shoulders, back, and waist seemed to know by nature how to coordinate with that weight.

The next moment—

"Bang!"

The small black hammer landed heavily on the round metal block.

The metal platform emitted a muffled rumble, and the soul-guided counting screen below immediately displayed a number:

One.

Tang Wulin's eyes lit up.

It works!

He didn't have time to think before the second hammer fell.

"Bang!"

two.

The third hammer blow, the fourth hammer blow, the fifth hammer blow...

Soon, a continuous knocking sound filled the studio.

Unlike the clumsy swinging of ordinary apprentices, Tang Wulin's movements, though still immature and lacking any skill, were exceptionally steady when his hammer fell. It wasn't the steadiness that came from training, but rather a steadiness that came from his body's instinct.

He made no unnecessary movements, used no tricks, and didn't know anything about rhythm control.

He just kept knocking.

Yet it is precisely this simplest and most direct tapping that reveals a solidity completely out of character for someone his age.

Mang Tian had initially just stood by and watched coldly, but after watching for a dozen or so times, his brows began to furrow slightly.

That's too stable.

The six-year-old child, touching a real forging table for the first time, didn't lose his hand shape due to the recoil from the test metal, nor did he repeatedly lose his balance because of the weight of his martial spirit. This alone was far better than he had expected.

Tang Wulin himself, at this moment, had no time to think about such things.

The first hundred or so hammer blows weren't too difficult for him.

The little black hammer was obviously heavy, but once he actually swung it, that heaviness seemed to gradually draw in the strength of his entire body, making each strike more grounded.

After two hundred repetitions, he started sweating.

After 300 repetitions, my arms gradually started to feel sore and swollen.

But Tang Wulin gritted his teeth and didn't stop.

He remembered clearly that his father had said that if he wanted to become a powerful Soul Master, he had to rely on himself.

And now, he is relying on himself to pave the first path for the future, bit by bit.

"Bang, bang, bang—"

The sound of hammering echoed continuously in the studio.

Five hundred times.

Six hundred times.

Seven hundred times.

By this time, Tang Wulin's forehead was covered in sweat, and the back of his school uniform was soaked. His hands were numb from the tremors, and his arms ached as if they didn't belong to him.

But he still didn't stop.

Because he was no longer just thinking about "completing the mission".

He remembered what his father had said.

He thought of his mother holding back tears while smiling as she brought him here.

I think of the increasingly empty rice bowl next to the small square table at home.

I also thought of Na'er's red eyes, her gentle nod and the way she said "Mmm".

He wants to become stronger.

He wanted to rely on himself.

He didn't want to just stand there and say, "I want to become a Soul Master."

After 750 repetitions, his movements finally slowed down noticeably.

The little black hammer became even heavier.

No, it's not that the hammer got heavier, but that it really started to reach its limit.

Every time I raise my arm, my shoulders and elbows ache as if they've been burned.

But at that moment, a familiar tingling sensation suddenly rose gently from my tailbone.

Tang Wulin trembled slightly.

The next moment, the tingling sensation traveled up the spine like a very thin electric current, flowing through the back, shoulders and neck, and then spreading into the arms.

The arm, which was almost impossible to lift before, suddenly felt much lighter.

At the same time, a very faint dark gold pattern appeared on the small black hammer, but it was so faint that it could not be detected unless you looked closely.

Tang Wulin himself was completely unaware of these changes; he only instinctively felt that the feeling of almost being unable to hold on was suddenly pushed back by something.

So he gritted his teeth and continued to strike.

eight hundred.

Nine hundred.

Nine hundred and fifty...

"Bang!"

With the final hammer blow, the number on the counter finally jumped to:

one thousand.

Tang Wulin loosened his grip, and the little black hammer vanished instantly. He also took a half-step back, panting heavily.

Sweat streamed down his forehead, his palms burned, his arms ached terribly, and his chest heaved as if it were about to explode. Yet, beneath this exhaustion and soreness, he distinctly felt a strange sense of exhilaration, as if all the strength in his body had been completely unleashed.

Deeper still, a tingling sensation lingered along the tailbone and spine, accompanied by a faint warmth.

Mang Tian, ​​at this point, had completely fallen silent.

His original requirement of "one thousand strikes" was intended to screen candidates. A six-year-old child, even with a hammer-type martial spirit, should not have been tasked with such a task on their very first encounter with forging.

But this child not only completed it, he did it using his own Martial Soul Hammer.

more importantly--

When he was striking, it didn't feel like he was just randomly hammering at all.

It was clear that day that although the child's movements were not mature, they were exceptionally steady, especially the almost innate sense of control when dropping the hammer, which far exceeded the scope that could be explained by the words "great strength".

"Uncle Mangtian..." Tang Wulin took a long time to catch his breath before raising his head, "I...I'm done."

Mang Tian looked at him, and for the first time, his eyes truly changed.

"Take a five-minute break," he said.

Tang Wulin nodded obediently and slowly sat down, holding onto the edge of the strength testing platform. Five minutes later, he stood up again. Although his arms were still sore, the feeling of complete exhaustion had eased somewhat.

Mang Tian did not take him away, but walked to the metal platform, looked down at the clear "one thousand" on the counter, and then turned to look at Tang Wulin.

"Knock it one more time," he said. "This time, don't stop until I tell you to."

"it is good."

Tang Wulin readily agreed and summoned his little black hammer once again.

A dark light appeared, and the hammer's shadow was obtained.

He took a deep breath, swung the hammer, and brought it down.

"Bang!"

The second time.

The third time.

Fourth time...

Mang Tian stood to the side, watching without saying a word.

The longer he looked, the less indifferent he became, replaced by a deeper scrutiny and a hint of surprise that even he himself was reluctant to admit.

This time, he saw it much more clearly.

This child is truly talented.

It's not just about being "hardworking" in the conventional sense, nor is it simply about being "stronger than your peers." It's a true talent for forging oneself—

His martial spirit and his body seemed to know from birth how to hammer a piece of metal.

That composure, that coordination, that feeling of power and control naturally coming together, is just like that of a very few people who are born to wield a hammer.

Mang Tian slowly narrowed his eyes.

Is it...

Is this what they call extraordinary talent?