Chapter 33: You, a Trash Soul Grandmaster, Think You're Worthy of Being My Teacher?
The Grandmaster had no idea that, because of his words, Tang San had already started imagining immortal herbs.
Stopping in his tracks, Yu Xiaogang looked at Tang San with a serious expression.
"But no matter how much Lin Qingmo's physique has improved, that is still only external strength."
"Without soul rings, soul skills, or soul bones, his path as a Soul Master will ultimately not go far."
"As soul power increases, a Soul Master must absorb more soul rings and soul bones, and master stronger soul skills. That is the true power of a Soul Master."
"Lin Qingmo has no soul rings. Right now, he may only seem dominant because he's at the one-ring stage, where the increase isn't obvious yet, and his physical body gives him an advantage."
"But once you, Xiao San, absorb your second and third soul rings, he will definitely not be your opponent."
Yu Xiaogang walked up to Tang San and placed both hands on his shoulders.
"Xiao San, you have innate full soul power and twin martial souls."
"And with my guidance, your talent and future will far surpass Lin Qingmo's."
His tone was full of encouragement, as though lighting a lamp in the darkness.
"This defeat happened only because his physical strength is temporarily superior to yours."
"But this gap can be bridged. As long as you cultivate diligently and raise your soul power…"
"Master your soul skills—then in the future, you will certainly surpass him!"
Hearing these words, Tang San's eyes lit up again.
The dejection on his face gradually faded, replaced by firm resolve.
That's right—he had innate full soul power and twin martial souls.
And with his teacher's careful guidance, his future was boundless.
As for Lin Qingmo? Just a trash martial soul with innate rank-four soul power.
So what if his physical body was strong right now?
The Douluo Continent was, in the end, a world of martial souls!
Without powerful martial souls and soul rings, any brilliance would be fleeting.
As long as he cultivated diligently, he would surpass Lin Qingmo sooner or later!
"Grandmaster, I understand!"
Tang San clenched his fists, flames of fighting spirit igniting in his eyes.
"I'll work hard at my cultivation and raise my strength as quickly as possible!"
"One day, I'll defeat him fair and square!"
The young man's voice rang clear and firm, echoing through the room.
Seeing Tang San regain his confidence, Yu Xiaogang nodded in satisfaction.
"That's the right attitude! The path of cultivation is bound to be filled with setbacks."
"What matters is not giving up, and learning from failure."
He walked over to the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of healing medicine.
"For now, go back and rest properly. Once your injuries recover…"
Turning around, he handed the bottle to Tang San, his gaze solemn.
"I'll design a stricter cultivation plan for you."
"We'll strive to break through to rank twenty as soon as possible and absorb your second soul ring!"
"Thank you, Grandmaster!"
Tang San accepted the bottle and bowed deeply.
Although his face still hurt, warmth filled his heart.
His teacher's trust and encouragement were better than any medicine.
He turned and left the office, his footsteps steady and resolute.
The sound of his steps echoed down the corridor, gradually fading away.
Inside the office, Yu Xiaogang sat back down in his chair.
He picked up Lin Qingmo's file and read through it once more.
The light of the soul-guiding lamp illuminated the paper, the words clear and distinct.
"Didn't use a martial soul or soul rings, relying purely on physical strength…"
Yu Xiaogang muttered to himself, his brows slightly furrowed.
"This Lin Qingmo is rather interesting."
He set the file aside and gazed out at the star-filled sky.
The night breeze fluttered the curtains, carrying the fresh scent of grass and trees.
"Such a pity it's a trash martial soul, and his innate soul power is far too low."
He sighed softly, regret evident in his tone.
But moments later, he still made a decision.
"I'll go meet him tomorrow."
"Perhaps I can figure out why his physical body is so strong."
"If it can help Tang San's cultivation…"
He stood up and extinguished the soul-tool lamp.
The office fell into darkness, with only starlight seeping in through the window.
Yu Xiaogang's figure blended into the night, like a statue lost in thought.
—
The forest path of Nuoding Academy was bathed in the afterglow of sunset.
Lin Qingmo hummed a tune, strolling leisurely beneath the dappled shadows of the trees.
A gentle breeze passed by, making the Blue Silver Grass along the path sway softly.
Suddenly, a figure blocked his way.
The man had a scruffy beard, a somewhat pale complexion, and weak-looking eyes.
He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, forcing his slightly hunched spine straight.
"You're the boy who defeated Xiao San, Lin Qingmo?"
Yu Xiaogang deliberately lowered his voice, his scrutinizing gaze sweeping over Lin Qingmo, trying to see through the boy's secrets.
Lin Qingmo stopped, tilted his head slightly.
The sunset stretched his shadow long, a playful smile on his face.
"You mean that little cripple?"
He picked at his ear, the motion full of disdain, like swatting away a fly.
"He was so weak—knocking him down in two or three punches was effortless."
Yu Xiaogang's brows instantly knotted together.
Hearing his disciple belittled like this made his expression turn extremely ugly.
Yet the unhidden confidence radiating from Lin Qingmo…
It was a kind of assurance that came from deep within his bones.
This made Yu Xiaogang vaguely feel that the youth might truly have something to rely on.
He took a deep breath and suppressed the churning anger in his chest.
"Young people having pride is a good thing, but don't let it turn into arrogance."
Yu Xiaogang slowed his tone, adopting the posture of an elder.
"I see that you have good talent. Why not take me as your teacher?"
He raised his chin slightly, struggling to maintain his dignity.
"I'll let you understand what the true path of a Soul Master is."
In his heart, he calculated: first subdue this boy, then slowly investigate his secrets.
Lin Qingmo blinked, feigning confusion.
"And who are you?"
Hands in his pockets, he looked as lazy as a cat basking in the sun.
Yu Xiaogang straightened his chest, his voice growing a bit louder.
"I am the one known as the 'Grandmaster'—the number one theorist in the Soul Master world!"
He spoke each word clearly and forcefully, as if announcing something extraordinary.
"Grandmaster?"
Lin Qingmo sized him up from top to bottom, from his messy hair to his worn robe.
Then he let out a snort of laughter, the sound crisp in the twilight.
"Heh. Then what level is your soul power?"
The question was light and casual, like a feather drifting down—yet it froze Yu Xiaogang in place instantly.
"…."
He opened his mouth, his throat seeming to be blocked by something.
After stammering for a long while, his old face slowly flushed red.
"T-Twenty-nine…"
His voice grew smaller and smaller until it was barely audible.
"Pfft—"
Lin Qingmo doubled over laughing, nearly shedding tears.
He braced himself against a nearby tree, shoulders shaking violently.
"A man in his forties who's only a rank 29 Soul Grandmaster?"
He wiped the corner of his eyes, tone full of disbelief.
"And you dare call yourself a Grandmaster? You even want to be my teacher?"
He patted his own chest, flashing a brilliant smile.
"My teacher is a Titled Douluo-level existence!"
He deliberately dragged out his words, biting hard on each syllable.
"Trash like you? I don't even look twice."
With that, he turned around gracefully and continued humming as he walked away.
The sunset stretched his shadow long, exuding an air of unrestrained freedom.
He didn't spare even a glance for Yu Xiaogang's livid expression behind him.
That single word—"trash"—stabbed into Yu Xiaogang's heart like a blade.
He clenched his fists, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.
Rage rushed straight to his head, making his whole body tremble.
Yet the phrase "teacher is a Titled Douluo" made him hesitate.
If it were true… he absolutely could not afford to offend him.
Unable to confirm the truth, cowardly and afraid of the strong, he could only force himself to remain calm, snorting coldly at the retreating figure.
"Rotten wood cannot be carved!"
The words were loud but reeked of insecurity.
After putting on a show of bluster, he flicked his sleeves and turned away.
His steps were hurried, nearly tripping over a stone by the roadside.
All that anger, however, he could only swallow whole.
It clogged his chest, making his breathing heavy and suffocating.
—
End of Chapter