A long, long time passed.
Lou Gao slowly opened his eyes.
The pain, struggle, and confusion within them receded like a tide, leaving behind a near-tragic resolve.
It was as if an invisible mountain had collapsed in his heart—yet from the ruins, new pillars were being forced upright by sheer will.
He drew a deep, heavy breath, as though trying to inhale the entire metallic scent of Gengjin City into his lungs.
Lou Gao looked at Lin Xia. His gaze was impossibly complex—gratification, emotion, helplessness—but in the end, only determination remained.
"…Perhaps,"
His voice was unusually hoarse, carrying the weight of burning all bridges behind him.
"Perhaps… you're right."
Lou Gao raised his rough, calloused hand and pressed it firmly onto Lin Xia's shoulder. The strength was mountain-heavy, conveying unspoken trust and responsibility.
"For the Blacksmith Association… for those who rely on this trade to survive… for the countless mouths that must be fed…"
His gaze passed over Lin Xia, drifting toward the direction of the front courtyard, as if piercing walls to see the anxious craftsmen beyond.
"This old body of mine… this bit of reputation… and even this so-called brotherhood…"
His voice dipped, trembling almost imperceptibly, before rising again—resolute and final.
"…are all worth nothing now!"
The words carried both the exhaustion of laying down a crushing burden and the resolve of someone who had already severed his retreat.
The turbulence in his eyes finally settled, transforming into a calm Lin Xia had never seen before—heavy with responsibility.
Lin Xia looked at his master's back. It was slightly hunched, yet still stood like a mountain. His throat tightened.
He wanted to say that things might not be as tragic as Lou Gao imagined—that seeking protection was not betrayal, but survival.
In the end, he said nothing.
Lin Xia understood. From Lou Gao's position—bearing decades of enmity with Spirit Hall, loyalty to Tai Tan, and responsibility for hundreds of lives—this decision was no different from tearing apart the beliefs he had clung to for a lifetime. The pain of that choice far exceeded anything Lin Xia had anticipated.
This was not simple "cooperation." It was stepping into a once-hostile system for the sake of survival and the future.
Lou Gao seemed to sense the understanding in Lin Xia's eyes. He turned back, forced a reassuring smile, and patted Lin Xia's shoulder firmly, as if passing on his own strength.
"Alright, Little Xia."
His voice regained some of its usual boldness, though a faint hoarseness lingered.
"Don't look at your master like that. The sky won't fall. I'm not senile—I know what I'm doing."
He paused, his gaze sharpening with resolve and expectation.
"I'll personally write a letter and send Si Long with my token and the Blacksmith Association's decision. He'll secretly head to Spirit City and present it directly to the Supreme Pontiff."
"Our intentions will be made clear, along with the situation at the Gengjin City Spirit Hall Temple. Once approval is granted, the Blacksmith Association's entry into Spirit Hall's system will be officially announced."
His eyes returned to Lin Xia, the expectation almost tangible.
"As for you—focus, grow stronger, and don't be distracted. Your talent, and your Larvitar, are the true hope and foundation of the Association's future."
Then his tone shifted, and at last, a trace of a master's warmth appeared on his face.
"Also, I have good news. The people I sent to investigate the Yellow Storm Rats have returned. They've confirmed several active groups, as well as the general territory of a thousand-year leader. Once I finish arranging the urgent matters, I'll personally take you to hunt a spirit!"
"Yellow Storm Rat!"
Lin Xia's eyes lit up instantly, like stars igniting in the night.
The haze that had weighed on him for days was swept away by this sudden news.
Was his multi-attribute spirit ring plan—dangerous, uncertain, yet full of potential—finally about to take its first real step?
Excitement and gratitude surged uncontrollably.
Lin Xia steadied himself and bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Master, for arranging all this."
"Enough, enough—no need for formalities."
Lou Gao waved a hand casually, his usual straightforwardness returning.
"You're my disciple. Helping you obtain the most suitable spirit ring is my responsibility. Go prepare yourself and adjust your condition. Once I finish handling the urgent matters, we set off."
With that, he gave Lin Xia's shoulder another heavy pat, as if sealing the promise, then turned and strode out of the backyard.
Though his back still carried a trace of grim resolve, the burden he had borne alone for so long was finally set down, and his steps seemed lighter.
—
The next morning.
As the first ray of sunlight—tinged with the metallic scent of Gengjin City—spilled into the backyard, Lou Gao appeared once more.
Compared to yesterday's oppressive heaviness, though fatigue still lingered between his brows, his spirit was noticeably lighter. A faint smile even rested at the corners of his mouth—a relief born of progress.
"Master, you're here!"
Lin Xia was already up. Larvitar, unusually not clinging to an ore, stood alert at his feet. Its gray-green scales shimmered in the morning light, faint purple arcs of electricity occasionally flashing across its body—the residual thunder energy from days of feasting on Purple Lightning Iron, not yet fully absorbed.
"Mm."
Lou Gao nodded, sweeping his gaze over the energetic pair. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
"How's your condition? Ready?"
"Ready to depart at any time!"
Lin Xia answered without hesitation.
Seeing the eagerness in Lin Xia's eyes, Lou Gao smiled.
"Si Long left secretly last night with my handwritten letter and token, escorted by capable hands, heading straight for Spirit City. What happens next is up to the Supreme Pontiff."
"Now," he said, his tone sharpening, "it's time for us master and disciple to handle our own serious business."
Lin Xia's heart stirred.
"Master, you've already sent someone to Spirit Hall?"
"Mm."
Lou Gao nodded simply, offering no further details—but the ease in his expression spoke volumes.
"Alright. Set Spirit Hall aside for now. Focus on what's in front of you."
He retrieved a detailed map from a storage soul tool at his waist, spreading it open and pointing to a red-marked area.
"The Yellow Storm Rat group is seventy miles southwest of the city, deep within the shifting sands beside an abandoned iron ore pit."
"Our people confirmed it repeatedly—several thousand-year Yellow Storm Rats, and over a dozen hundred-year ones."
"Perfect," he said firmly, "for your first spirit ring."