Douluo: When the piano sounds, the hidden weapon returns to the factory

Chapter 4 Chance Encounter
Feng Yao slowly walked to the gates of Notting College and looked up. Four powerful characters were engraved on the rock at the center of the archway: "Notting College." Through the cracks in the iron bars, he could see the college's broad, clean, winding thoroughfares, flanked by lush greenery, a vibrant scene. In the distance, several exquisite building roofs shimmered in the sunlight, exuding an air of solemnity and elegance.

Feng Yao glanced around but didn't see the figure that intrigued him—the protagonist, Tang San. His lips curled up slightly in a self-deprecating smile, and he thought to himself, "How could this be such a coincidence? I don't know the exact timeline yet, and since Spirit Awakening is still presided over by Spirit Hall personnel, it only means that I'm roughly the same age as the protagonist. Maybe I arrived a few years early, or a few years late. Anyway, as long as Yu Xiaogang is still at the academy, we'll have the chance to meet eventually."

With this in mind, Feng Yao walked towards the main door. At the same time, the concierge slowly walked out of the small room beside the main door. Seeing Feng Yao's extraordinary attire, he instantly quickened his pace, his face full of respectful smiles.

"I wonder what brings you to Notting College, young master?" The doorman bowed slightly, with a flattering tone in his voice.

Feng Yao recalled the plot of the original novel and couldn't help but smile at the concierge's friendly attitude. He slowly took out the folded martial spirit certificate from his pocket, handed it over, and said with a smile, "I'm a student who has come to Notting College to register."

The concierge didn't take the certificate from Feng Yao's hand, and didn't even glance at it. He immediately showed an even more respectful look: "So it's the soul master who came to register. Please come in!"

As he spoke, he slightly turned sideways, raised his hand to guide Feng Yao, and added: "Do you need me to lead the way for you?"

Feng Yao smiled and shook his head, silently put the soul master certificate in his hand into his arms, and then walked towards the academy.

Soon, under the guidance of the academy staff, Feng Yao successfully arrived at the registration office. After paying the registration fee of 100 gold soul coins, he officially became a student of Notting Junior Soul Master Academy.

Soon, following the guidance of the registration teacher, Feng Yao arrived at his dormitory, Building 1. He found his room according to the number on the key, and the moment he pushed open the door, he couldn't help but be slightly startled.

"It seems that no matter which world you live in, money is the most practical passport." Feng Yao chuckled to himself, "I didn't expect that ordinary students could also live in a single room."

The roughly ten-square-meter room was simple, but it had everything: a single bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and even a small balcony. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, casting warm patches of light on the floor. Feng Yao nodded with satisfaction and placed his luggage on the bed.

As a former teacher, Feng Yao knew that quiet and solitude were essential for achieving success in any field. This independent space was exactly the cultivation environment he had always dreamed of.

Feng Yao eagerly opened the academy's admissions textbook. The title page prominently read "Basic Meditation Method," its contents concise and to the point: "Find a quiet place to avoid external interference; meditate in a state of concentration, but do not fall asleep; visualize the appearance of your martial spirit in your mind, supplemented by breathing, to sense the energy of heaven and earth."

"Sure enough." Feng Yao closed his textbook thoughtfully and lay back on his bed. The shadows of the trees outside the window swayed gently in the breeze, casting dappled light and shadows on his face. "Eight-Section Brocade is indeed unique. The coordinated movements and breathing focus more on conditioning the body. Coupled with my extraordinary mental strength, it's no surprise that I've awakened my soul power."

After acquiring the meditation technique, Feng Yao suddenly felt that academy life had lost its original appeal. But then he thought, at his current age and strength, there really was nowhere better to go. The continent was rife with dangers, and until he had sufficient strength to protect himself, it would be safer to stay in this small town for a few years.

Feng Yao raised his hand and stared at the sunlight leaking through his fingers, thinking: "This meditation method is indeed simple, even a six-year-old child can easily master it. But..."

A bold idea suddenly emerged: "Can I create my own unique internal energy method like Tang San? It can not only speed up my cultivation, but also strengthen my physique. After all, a strong physique often means a strong mental strength."

Thinking of this, Feng Yao couldn't help but shake his head in self-mockery. As a modern man, he lacked an innate advantage in such profound matters as cultivation. Though he wasn't proficient in cultivation, he was a role model in the art of the zither. He knew that the simpler the task, the more reliant on talent was on transcending convention. Just like a soul master's meditation: it was easy to understand, but achieving it still depended on the hard prerequisite of innate soul power.

"After awakening my soul power, I've become quite greedy." Feng Yao chuckled, raising his hand to summon his martial spirit. Gently stroking the strings of his zither, he said softly, "Old friend, from now on, I'll call you 'Fuxi.' In the name of our ancestor, I hope you'll one day truly become a divine artifact."

Embracing his guqin, "Fuxi," Feng Yao strolled out of the dormitory. The sun was shining brightly, and he planned to find a quiet spot in the academy to play the instrument.

Walking along the tree-lined avenue of Notting College, many students cast curious glances at the lyre in Feng Yao's arms. The few who knew the value of it even had a flicker of envy in their eyes—in this world, music has always been a hallmark of aristocracy.

Notting Academy was vast, but the number of soul master students was limited. Feng Yao quickly found a quiet spot deep within the academy. Thick tree trunks cast dappled shadows, and sunlight filtered through the branches, providing warmth without being scorching. He sat cross-legged, resting Fuxi on his knees.

Fingertips gently plucked the strings, and a wisp of clear music drifted out. Invisible waves of sound rippled through the air, and Feng Yao gradually immersed himself in the artistic conception of the melody. The sound flowed like a clear spring, sometimes like pearls falling on a jade plate, sometimes like the sound of pine waves. In this quiet afternoon, the melody of the lyre blended perfectly with nature, as if even the sunlight swayed gently to the melody.

The sound of the piano lingered, like a spring breeze sweeping across the fields. Not far away, on a patch of grass, a boy sitting cross-legged suddenly opened his eyes, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"This zither music sounds like all things reviving, full of vitality," Tang San muttered to himself, sensing the strange movement of his spirit power. He had just yesterday, with the help of his teacher, obtained his first spirit ring and broken through to level eleven. Unexpectedly, listening to this zither music now, his spirit power surged again, and he naturally broke through to level twelfth.

He spread out his right hand, the Blue Silver Grass spirit in his palm swaying gently. Meditation, by nature, was supposed to be immune to external interference, but just now, guided by the zither music, his spirit seemed to resonate with nature, bursting with life like a spring bud breaking through the soil.

Tang San stood up, brushed the grass debris off his robe, and slowly walked forward, following the sound of the zither. Passing through a few bushes, he saw a young man immersed in his own music. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell on the young man, casting a soft halo around him.

"Noble?" Tang San's gaze lingered on the other person's exquisite clothes for a moment, and he couldn't help but recall his experience when he first came to the academy, frowning slightly.

He stood quietly in the shadows of the trees, observing. The young man playing the zither, his eyes slightly closed, his slender fingers moving across the strings, his entire being seemingly at one with the surrounding nature. The sound sometimes resembled the gurgling of a spring, sometimes the sound of new buds sprouting, each note imbued with the rhythm of life.

"It seems there are also those of genuine talent and learning among the nobility," Tang San thought to himself, his prejudices unknowingly dissipating somewhat. He leaned against the tree trunk, unconsciously relaxing, letting the music of the zither cleanse his mind. At that moment, he seemed to see countless blue silver grasses unfurling their leaves to the sound of the zither, blooming with the brilliant light of life. As the song "Yangchun Baixue" ended, the lingering sound lingered, and Feng Yao slowly opened his eyes. Tang San, who had stood still for a long time, couldn't help but clap softly, the crisp applause ringing out clearly in the quiet forest.

Feng Yao looked in the direction of the sound and saw a boy in coarse cloth standing not far away. He was a little surprised; not many children his age could understand zither music. "Excuse me, who are you?" Feng Yao asked gently.

"Hello, classmate. My name is Tang San." Tang San took a few steps forward and answered politely.

Feng Yao was surprised when he heard this. He glanced at the lush grass around him and suddenly understood in his heart - this vibrant grassland was indeed the best place for Blue Silver Grass Soul Masters to practice.

"Classmate, do you know me?" Seeing Feng Yao was silent, Tang San asked hesitantly.

Feng Yao came back to his senses and shook his head gently: "I don't know him. I'm just a little surprised that you can understand my music."

Tang San pretended to be dumb and shook his head: "I don't understand, but I know you play very well."

Feng Yao couldn't help but smile when he heard this, and thought: We are already thousand-year-old foxes, why are we still playing Strange Stories from a Chinese Studio?

"It seems that the music played with soul power may have had a special effect on Tang San." Feng Yao thought to himself, "Otherwise, given his personality, if his cultivation was disturbed, he would probably find another secluded place."

Thinking of this, Feng Yao stopped worrying and said to Tang San, "I'm glad I didn't disturb you. I'm going to continue practicing." After that, he said no more and continued to play the piano.

The zither music resumed, and Feng Yao quickly lost himself in his own world. Tang San watched Feng Yao's concentration, and his opinion of him couldn't help but improve. Feng Yao's selfless state reminded him of himself in his previous life, when he was studying hidden weapons.

"When the teacher feels better, I will go and ask him about the secret of the piano sound." Tang San decided secretly, "For now, I will continue to practice and see if I can gain more." He gently stepped back a few steps, sat cross-legged again not far away, closed his eyes and concentrated, letting the piano music linger in his ears.

Deep within the dense shadows of the trees, a burly figure stood silently. He was a tall, middle-aged man, his gnarled fingers unconsciously clenching the tree trunk, his knuckles turning slightly white from the effort. Feng Yao's zither music seeped into his heart like a gurgling stream, gradually moistening his weathered eyes.

"Such piano skills," the man murmured softly, his voice trembling uncontrollably. As the strings plucked, he seemed to see that elegant figure playing the piano in the courtyard again. "Moonlight..."

When Feng Yao's soul power was about to be exhausted and the sound of the piano gradually stopped, the man finally woke up from his dream. He took a deep breath, suppressed the surging emotions, but his eyes never left the young man playing the piano.

"Alas, my soul power is still too low." Feng Yao sighed softly, his fingertips reluctantly leaving the strings. He could feel that every time he played with soul power, the connection between his martial soul and himself became closer, but the limitation of soul power always remained an insurmountable obstacle.

After withdrawing Fuxi into his body, Feng Yao sat cross-legged and began to meditate. Following the instructions in the textbook, he imagined the shape of a lyre in his mind, pacing his breathing and feeling the flow of soul energy within him. Sunlight filtered through the leaves onto his face, casting a golden halo over his focused features.

Deep in the shadows of the trees, a burly figure quietly gazed at Feng Yao's meditative posture, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. As a Titled Douluo, he could clearly sense that Feng Yao's meditation was still somewhat immature, but his exquisite qin skills reminded him of his sister far away in Yuexuan. What surprised him even more was that this young man's qin skills were even slightly superior to Yuehua's.

His eyes moved between Feng Yao and Tang San, and the man suddenly discovered that both children had a similar temperament - that kind of unique innate talent.

"Are they all born that way? Interesting," the man murmured, his rough fingertips unconsciously stroking the messy stubble on his chin. The scent of beer lingered in the air with his breath.

After pausing to observe for a moment, the man turned and left. His massive figure was as light as a ghost, disappearing from the academy in a few leaps and bounds. Only a single, withered, yellow leaf swirled down, landing right in front of Feng Yao. The leaf still carried the characteristic sour, astringent aroma of inferior beer.

Feng Yao's first attempt at meditation wasn't smooth. He repeatedly adjusted his breathing, and gradually caught a glimpse of that mysterious feeling. When he opened his eyes again, the afterglow of the setting sun had dyed the entire academy golden.

Feng Yao glanced at the deserted grassland, carefully feeling the condition of his body. He couldn't help but smile bitterly and muttered to himself, "This speed is indeed quite impressive. From morning to dusk, his soul power has only increased slightly. If he practiced, it should be much smoother."

Perhaps because he didn’t eat lunch, Feng Yao’s stomach soon protested.

Gurgle.
The protests from his stomach shattered the tranquility of the forest. Feng Yao rubbed his numb legs and stood up to brush off the grass debris on his robe. As a modern person, he was still not used to sitting in meditation.

"It's time to try the cafeteria at Notting College." Feng Yao muttered to himself and walked towards the direction where the aroma of food was coming from.

Feng Yao walked quickly along the forest path, the afterglow of the setting sun stretching his shadow outward. The buildings of Notting College looked particularly solemn in the twilight. In the distance, the lights of the cafeteria were already on, and the noisy voices of students could be vaguely heard.

As soon as he walked to the cafeteria door, Feng Yao smelled the aroma of food.

(End of this chapter)