Compared to Cheng Ying, Bingdi was even more shocked. After all, she had personally experienced Tang Chen's final strike, and she was certain had she tried to take that last hit with her bare hands, she would definitely have been injured.
Although Bingdi wasn't a soul beast known for strength, her physical body was no weaker than a power-type Title Douluo. Yet Tang Chen had forced her to use her true strength—Ice—in order to block the eighty-first hammer strike.
If it had been an ordinary Title Douluo foolish enough to just stand there and let Tang Chen complete the prior eighty strikes, they would almost certainly have knelt under that final blow.
While it was normally impossible to unleash all eighty-one strikes—getting through even thirty-six required an opponent letting their guard down—conditions could always be created. If Tang Chen had reliable teammates, or was within a military formation, building up power for a large-scale offensive, the destructive force would be catastrophic.
"Master's wife, what was that? Why was it so hard?" Tang Chen's entire arm was numb. That final ice spear wasn't there to hurt him—it was meant to protect him, to slightly reduce his attack speed. Otherwise, if he'd struck directly against Bingdi's last line of defense, his arm might have shattered.
"Oh, it's nothing. Just ordinary ice," Bingdi replied casually. While her body couldn't take the blow, using ice to defend had been almost effortless.
"How could ordinary ice be so tough?" Tang Chen asked, confused.
"Because I ordered it not to break. So it didn't dare break," Bingdi said calmly.
Her tone was light, but to Tang Chen, those words radiated an unmatched aura of dominance.
"Each of your strikes was nearly ten percent stronger than the last. That final blow was over twice as powerful. It really is a terrifying self-created soul skill," Bingdi remarked.
"Eh? Each one only got about ten percent stronger? I thought it was way more than that…" Tang Chen seemed disappointed.
"Are you stupid?" Bingdi jabbed his forehead with a disdainful expression. For once, she had a chance to look down on someone's math skills.
"If every strike gets ten percent stronger, by the ninth strike, you're already at more than double the power of the first. Let's say each one doubles. You swung the hammer nine times per round—nine rounds makes eighty-one strikes. That's over five hundred times the power. The final strike, being more than twice as strong, would be over a thousand times the first strike's power. And you think that's not impressive?"
Hearing her breakdown, and comparing it to the crater in front of him, Tang Chen had to admit she was right. That last strike amplified a thousandfold produced exactly the devastation he was seeing now. His arm nearly broke for good reason.
And this was when he was only at the fortieth rank. If he reached Title Douluo level one day… a thousandfold full-power strike—what kind of effect would that have on a so-called god? Maybe he really could kill a god.
Cheng Ying looked over at Tang Chen, who was being scolded by Bingdi, and shook his head. Hoping this kid whose talent was entirely focused on combat would ever invent a steam engine? No chance. He just prayed Tang Chen wouldn't witness one of his steam engines exploding and somehow comprehend a soul skill like "Explosive Ring Great Sumeru Hammer" from it...
Compared to the damage to his home, what really concerned Cheng Ying right now was something else entirely...
In the ruins, Dugu Bo struggled to lift chunks of debris with his small hands. Glass shards sliced his fingers, but he didn't stop. That spot… had once been his laboratory.
He lifted a wooden board to reveal a microscope with a cracked lens tube. Seeing the split wood, Dugu Bo's nose stung. That microscope had been a gift from Cheng Ying—the very first he'd ever received. For a whole year, he had cared for it daily… only for it to end up like this, all because Tang Chen had demonstrated a newly comprehended soul skill.
Just as he was holding the broken microscope with reddened eyes, he suddenly felt sunlight vanish.
He looked up. Cheng Ying stood in front of him, wearing a familiar gentle smile.
"If you feel wronged, just cry," Cheng Ying said, stepping forward to pull Dugu Bo into his arms. He let the boy bury his face in the white coat against his chest, shielding the ruins behind them from view so no one could see the tears.
Feeling the trembling shoulders in his arms, Cheng Ying lowered his head slightly and whispered in Dugu Bo's ear:
"Feels unfair, doesn't it? You've worked so hard, and yet, you're still falling further and further behind your junior brother."
"…Mm." Dugu Bo nodded into his chest, burying himself deeper.
"Heaven really is unfair. It favors certain people gives them all the wonderful, enviable things in the world. Even if they don't strive for it, their achievements far outshine those who work a hundred times harder.
People call them geniuses. And the pain of being trampled by a genius… I understand it very well. Because, you see—your teacher was once the one who gave a hundredfold effort, only to be left gazing upward in frustration.
But I never gave up. Even if I might never catch up to those geniuses… I never stopped walking forward."
Hearing this, Dugu Bo looked up and choked out a question: "And then?"
At this moment, he was like a little child listening to a story, yearning to know the ending. But this wasn't a story.
Cheng Ying thought for a moment. And then...? Well… then he transmigrated. But he couldn't say that.
"Then… I still haven't caught up to them," Cheng Ying admitted honestly. Because clinging to illusions is more cruel than knowing the truth from the start.
Dugu Bo bit his lip, lowered his head again in dejection, and muttered: "Even someone as amazing as Teacher can't surpass geniuses?"
Cheng Ying gently ruffled his white-haired head and said, "That's right. Reality is that hopeless. A lot of things can't be changed no matter how hard you try. But to me, the result doesn't matter. What matters is—I see you're still working hard. You haven't given up."
Then he crouched down and whispered something only the two of them could hear:
"Because I like hardworking children."
Dugu Bo clearly trembled at those words. Cheng Ying continued:
"I've never cared whether a student is talented. I only care whether they work hard. From the day I accepted you as my disciple, I swore never to treat you differently because of talent. You're all my best students."
"Really?" Dugu Bo asked softly.
Cheng Ying recalled the days when he'd sat in the back row, isolated by classmates, ignored by teachers, ridiculed by clubs when he had worked harder than the so-called honor students, yet still achieved nothing.
And he nodded firmly. "Really."
At that moment, a certain understanding dawned in his heart. He finally felt the full weight of the word teacher. To be a teacher is not just about putting on a stern face and giving lectures. To become a truly worthy teacher… he still had a long road ahead.