Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record only described six types of martial skills, separated into the inner strength internal technique Mysterious Heaven Skill, hand skill practice technique Mysterious Jade Hand, vision cultivation technique Purple Demon Eye, capturing technique Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon, light body technique Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track, as well as hidden weapon use technique, Hidden Weapon Hundred Separation(understanding hidden weapons).
The first five were basics; after all, without a robust foundation, how could one bring out the quintessence of Tang Sect's hidden weapons?
Having started training Mysterious Heaven Skill at one year old, Tang San, who at present was already almost six years old, was still laying the foundation.
Tang San's family lived on the west side of Holy Spirit village, by the village chief's place. The three room mud brick house could be said to be the crudest in the entire village. It had a wooden plaque one meter in diameter over the door, painted with a simple hammer. The hammer in this world was the most widespread symbol of a blacksmith.
That's right. Tang San's father Tang Hao was a blacksmith, the only blacksmith in the village.
In this world, blacksmith could be said to be the humblest of professions. This is because none of this world's best weapons were, for a certain reason, forged by blacksmiths.
Even so, as this village's only accomplished blacksmith, Tang San's family shouldn't have been this impoverished with such a meagre little income...
Entering the house, Tang San already smelled fragrant rice. That wasn't Tang Hao making him breakfast; rather he cooked for Tang Hao.
Starting from four years old, before Tang San was tall enough to reach the kitchen counter, cooking was already his daily task; even if he had to stand on a stool in order to be able to reach the top of the kitchen counter.
It wasn't because Tang Hao demanded it, but rather because if he didn't do it, Tang San would practically never be able to eat his fill.
Arriving before the kitchen counter, he stood on the wooden stool with practiced ease, lifting the lid of the large iron cooking pot, the scent of fragrant rice wafting out. The cauldron's congee had cooked thoroughly for a long time.
Every day, before going up the hill, Tang San always made sure to put rice in the pot to cook and prepare the firewood so that when he returned, the congee would be cooked well.
Picking up two already worn out bowls with more than ten notches from the counter to the side, Tang San very cautiously ladled congee into the two bowls and placed them on the table behind him. The congee's rice grains could practically be counted by eye, and for Tang San's growing body, this little nutrition was obviously insufficient; this was also the reason why his body was as slim as a thread.
"Dad, food."
Tang San called out.
After a long time, the inner room door drape lifted, and a large figure appeared with somewhat staggering steps and walked out.
It was a middle aged man, his appearance seemed close to fifty years old. His stature was still extraordinarily large and stalwart, though one dared not compliment his style of dress.
His worn robe covered with holes, without so much as a patch, exposed bronze colored skin. His previously good facial features now appeared waxen in color. He had a pair of sleepy eyes and a dazed manner; messy hair that looked just like a bird's nest, a beard that had gone who knew how long without being straightened out. A dim and lifeless look was visible in his eyes. Even though the night had already passed, he still reeked of alcohol, yet Tang San didn't frown.
This was Tang Hao, Tang San's father in this world.
While growing up, Tang San never knew what paternal love was. The way Tang Hao treated him was always the same regardless, being firm right from the beginning. Athough he knew to make a little food for him to eat, but nevertheless, as time passed, right after Tang San started taking the initiative to cook, Tang Hao became even more uncaring of anything. In this way their home was so impoverished that they didn't even have decent furniture. Food also was a problem, mainly due to Tang Hao using all that meagre blacksmith income to trade for alcohol.
While Tang San was a large child, his father was really also about 30 years old, married so early even before thirty years old, but Tang Hao nevertheless must be compared to someone much older, he rather resembled Tang San's grandfather.
With regard to Tang Hao's behaviour, Tang San carried no resentment. In his former lifetime, he was an orphan. In this lifetime, even though Tang Hao treated him badly, he at least had family. For Tang San, this already made him feel content. At least here there was a person he could call father.
Tang Hao grabbed the bowl from the table, not worried about scalding, and with big gulps poured the congee down into his belly. His dull sallow face appeared to gain a bit of luster.
"Dad, slow down, it's still hot."
Tang San took the bowl from his father's hand and refilled it with congee. He also picked up his own bowl.
In Tang Sect, he was never able to leave and very rarely came into contact with outside matters. It goes without saying that just like a blank slate, ending up in this world he became like a little child again, and also had nothing which he could not accept.
Very quickly, a pot of porridge with seven or eight bowls all entered Tang Hao's stomach. Letting out a breath, he placed the bowl on the table. The drooping eyelids opened somewhat, looking at Tang San.
"You continue with the work you have, I will work in the afternoon. I'll go sleep a little while."
Tang Hao's work and rest habit had a very regular pattern: sleeping all morning, making a few farm tools in the afternoon, obtaining income, and drinking in the evening.
"Ok, dad."
Tang San nodded.
Tang Hao stood up. Having had several bowls of congee, he was no longer swaying, and walked towards the inner room.
"Dad."
Tang San suddenly called out.
Tang Hao stopped, turning his head to look at him, his brows clearly indicating a little impatience.
Tang San pointed at a corner with shining black chunks of pig iron:
"These chunks of iron, can you give them to me to use?"
In his previous incarnation he was Tang Sect's most outstanding outer sect disciple, he was most familiar with the creation of every kind of hidden weapon. Naturally, back then all kinds of material were supplied by Tang Sect. But in this new world, although he practiced several years, his strength still wasn't enough by far. Moreover, he had never wanted to give up on manufacturing the most advanced hidden weapons. By now he had already tried to forge a few hidden weapons, but finding enough materials was the big issue.
Tang Hao forged farm tools out of metal received from the villagers. It was all impure, very common iron. It all was very difficult to use for high quality hidden weapons. The pieces of pig iron Tang San currently pointed at, delivered only yesterday, had made Tang San astonished; these chunks of iron ore actually definitely contained iron source, which was perfectly suitable for making hidden weapons.
Tang Hao's gaze shifted to the pig iron,
"Huh. Isn't this fine iron?"
Walking over to take a look, he turned his head to look at Tang San,
"You want to become a blacksmith?"