What's inside this?
The Sea Witch asked curiously.
Hearing her question, Ye Tian replied with an air of nonchalance, "Something that can deal with the Qianjun Douluo."
He didn't elaborate on the power of the rocket.
After all, the more people who knew about it, the less intimidating it would become.
Ye Tian pushed the box toward Zhou Long and instructed, "Uncle Zhou, I'm leaving this to you. If the battle doesn't go well, use it to end the Qianjun Douluo's life."
Zhou Long stored the box in his spatial storage and nodded solemnly.
"Young Master, rest assured. No matter what, the Qianjun Douluo will never return to Spirit Hall City alive."
Ye Tian smiled faintly. "Then I'll wait for good news."
...
That night, Ye Tian stayed up late.
But everything remained calm, with nothing out of the ordinary happening.
The next day at noon, Three figures walked into the silent courtyard of the Elephant Armor Sect.
"Patriarch Huyan, why is the Elephant Armor Sect so deserted?"
The Qianjun Douluo stroked his beard, frowning slightly.
Hearing this, Huyan Zhen, who was accompanying him, felt a jolt of alarm.
The plan had progressed this far—he couldn't afford to slip up now.
He forced a loud laugh and said, "Esteemed Qianjun Douluo, you may not know this, but our sect has been swamped with business lately. Most of our disciples have been sent out on assignments."
The Qianjun Douluo stroked his beard and nodded in understanding.
With the continent's current turmoil, it made sense that a weapons-trading sect like the Elephant Armor Sect would be busy.
However, another thought crossed his mind, and his frown deepened.
"Didn't you say your sect was facing a formidable enemy?"
"Where is this enemy?"
The bustling state of the sect didn't seem like one under siege.
Was Huyan Zhen just wasting his time?
The thought stirred a wave of irritation in the Qianjun Douluo.
His tone turned cold.
"Did you fabricate a reason to summon me here just to use my reputation to boost your business?"
That seemed increasingly likely.
As a high-ranking elder of Spirit Hall, his name alone carried immense weight.
If the Elephant Armor Sect leveraged his presence to attract clients, even for just a week, they could make a fortune.
The Qianjun Douluo sneered inwardly.
If Huyan Zhen's scheme was this petty, then he had sorely underestimated the value of a favor from someone like him.
But a man obsessed with petty gains didn't deserve his favor anyway.
In fact, the Qianjun Douluo would be glad to repay the debt now and sever all ties with the Elephant Armor Sect.
Beside him, the Jiang Long Douluo crossed his arms and scoffed,
"Little Huyan Zhen, you should know that favors have their limits."
"You managed to call us here this time, but don't count on it happening again."
"Yes, yes, you're absolutely right, esteemed elders," Huyan Zhen stammered, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
His eyes darted nervously around the empty courtyard.
Having lived here for years, he could tell many structures had been tampered with.
The only reason everything seemed peaceful now was because he was still standing here.
The moment he left, a battle that would shock the continent would likely erupt.
Swallowing hard, Huyan Zhen forced out a stiff smile.
"The enemy who threatened our sect left a challenge letter in the conference hall."
"I'll fetch it for you to examine."
He was weaving his final lie.
The only reason he had convinced the Qianjun Douluo to come was by claiming the sect faced an overwhelmingly powerful foe.
The Qianjun Douluo had agreed without hesitation, even bringing his brother, the Jiang Long Douluo, along.
He had promised to resolve the crisis—a straightforward act of goodwill that now filled Huyan Zhen with guilt.
But for the future of the Elephant Armor Sect, he had no choice.
The Qianjun Douluo waved dismissively, too impatient to question Huyan Zhen's nervousness.
He simply assumed the man was intimidated by their earlier words.
It never crossed his mind that this could be an ambush.
In his eyes, With him and his brother present, even a Limit Douluo would struggle to gain an advantage.
No one would be foolish enough to walk into such a trap.
But the Jiang Long Douluo wasn't as complacent.
"Brother, don't you think it's unnaturally quiet here?" he asked warily.
The Qianjun Douluo chuckled. "What, you think someone's foolish enough to ambush us?"
His laughter turned mocking.
"How stupid would they have to be?"
"Stupid or not, you'll find out soon enough!"
A cold voice suddenly rang out.
The Qianjun Douluo's expression darkened.
"Who's there?!"
In an instant, he summoned his martial soul—the Coiling Dragon Staff.
The overwhelming aura of a Super Douluo erupted in the courtyard.
The Jiang Long Douluo, however, smirked and summoned his own staff.
Turning to his brother, he said, "Hah! Looks like someone really does have a death wish!"
"Then let's grant it to them!" The Qianjun Douluo's voice boomed with confidence.
This wasn't arrogance—it was the unshakable assurance of a Super Douluo.
"It's been over thirty years since I last fought," he declared, raising his voice.
"I almost hope our enemy is strong enough to give me a good warm-up!"
"Let the world see that my Coiling Dragon Staff hasn't dulled with age!"
"Then we'll gladly oblige!"
The speaker was Gui Mei.
As his voice faded,
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Five figures materialized around the two brothers, sealing off all escape routes.
Each radiated the unmistakable pressure of a Titled Douluo.
Recognizing Gui Mei, the Qianjun Douluo burst into furious laughter.
"Hahaha! So the so-called 'enemy' is one of Spirit Hall's own!"
"I should've known that witch Bibi Dong would scheme to seize power!"
Gui Mei retorted sternly, "It's not about seizing power—it's about you old fossils clinging to authority and refusing to let go!"
"Her Holiness the Pope is the rightful ruler of Spirit Hall!"
"Yet you relics hoard your positions, doing nothing but dragging the entire organization down!"
The Qianjun Douluo's fury peaked at the insult.
"Dragging Spirit Hall down? Without the Seven Elders steering the course, would Spirit Hall even exist as it does today?"
"Look at the Pope's faction—how many top-tier fighters do they have?"
"Without the Elder Hall, Spirit Hall would've been crushed by the two empires long ago!"
"None of our current glory—our dominance over the empires—would exist!"
"And what part of that was Bibi Dong's doing?"
"To accuse us of clinging to power is a joke!"
Seeing Gui Mei's face darken but finding no rebuttal, the Qianjun Douluo sneered.
"What, nothing to say now?"
Clap. Clap.
Slow, deliberate applause broke the tension.
Everyone turned to see Ye Tian walking forward with an indifferent expression.
"So it's you!" The Qianjun Douluo's eyes narrowed as he pointed accusingly.
Now it made sense.
This ambush had to be Ye Tian's doing.
That brainless witch Bibi Dong could never have orchestrated this!
Scowling, the Qianjun Douluo said, "I admire your cunning, boy. To command so many Titled Douluo is no small feat."
"If you back down now, I'll spare you and only punish Bibi Dong."
"Otherwise, don't blame me for what comes next!"
Ye Tian spread his arms.
"I'm right here. Show me what you've got."
Ye Tian stood behind a large stone statue, squinting with a smile as he observed the Qianjun Douluo.
In his hand, he held a Taiyi Divine Needle.
Beneath his feet lay a fuse ready to be ignited.
Under the massive stone statue, two thousand pounds of explosives were buried.
The slightest spark would trigger an explosion powerful enough to stagger even a Super Douluo.
"I disdain to strike at someone like you!" The Qianjun Douluo remained rooted in place, wary.
He knew Ye Tian was full of tricks—there was no way this was a simple invitation.
If Ye Tian wanted him to approach, it had to be a trap.
Seeing the Qianjun Douluo refuse to take the bait, Ye Tian sighed inwardly.
Still, the explosives under the statue had only been meant as an ambush.
The Qianjun Douluo's caution was expected.
Watching Ye Tian's amused expression, the Qianjun Douluo frowned in confusion.
"Ye Tian, with your talents, you could have a far brighter future."
"Why throw it all away for Bibi Dong?"
"The Elder Hall has tolerated her only because she's Qian Renxue's mother."
"Now, with this crisis at the Elephant Armor Sect, do you really think we'll let her walk free?"
When he first met Ye Tian, the Qianjun Douluo had dismissed him as nothing more than an ordinary man—no matter how clever, still unworthy of his attention.
But today's events had forced him to reconsider.
A talent like Ye Tian's should serve Spirit Hall, not waste away in petty political struggles—or worse, die for nothing.
At these words, the smile vanished from Ye Tian's face.
He met the Qianjun Douluo's gaze seriously.
"Can't you see? The one about to fall isn't the Pope—it's the Elder Hall."
If the Qianjun Douluo wanted to wage a psychological battle, Ye Tian would gladly return the favor—by planting a seed of doubt in his mind.
"What a joke!" The Qianjun Douluo laughed outright.
With a proud thump to his chest, he declared:
"The Elder Hall has seven elders, all Super Douluo! Grand Elder Qian Daoliu is a Limit Douluo! What does Bibi Dong have to challenge us?"
"Her twin martial souls?"
"Even given twenty years, she'd never surpass the Grand Elder!"
"What's so worth clinging to about her?"
"Turn back now. Serve the Elder Hall instead."
Ye Tian's expression remained calm.
"Bibi Dong's strength is indeed unremarkable."
"But her determination to reform Spirit Hall is something none of you possess."
"Deep down, you know the truth—you've grown old, content to maintain the status quo, no longer daring to advance."
"Cultivation is like sailing against the current: stagnation means regression."
"Right now, the seven elders may still reign supreme."
"But what about the future?"
"The future as well!" The Qianjun Douluo gripped his Coiling Dragon Staff, his pride unshaken.
As a Super Douluo, he had at least a century left to live.
He was certain Spirit Hall would dominate the continent for another hundred years!
Ye Tian burst into exaggerated laughter.
"How self-deceptive can you be?"
"Let's not even talk about the distant future—just take Tang Hao of the Clear Sky Sect. Which of your seven elders can match him?"
"Then look at the younger generation of the Top Three Sects. Five years ago, during the Continental Advanced Soul Master Tournament, they were just emerging."
"Now, after just five years, countless have reached Spirit Saint level."
"You're not uninformed, surely?"
"Now compare that to Spirit Hall. How many of its young talents have become Spirit Saints in the same time?"
The Qianjun Douluo's composure cracked.
He knew Ye Tian spoke the truth.
Spirit Hall's younger generation had fallen behind—an undeniable fact.
The talent pipeline had dried up.
Though inwardly impressed by Ye Tian's sharp analysis, the Qianjun Douluo maintained his disdain.
"Hmph! The seven elders still have time to nurture new power!"
"The current gap is temporary!"
"So you still refuse to accept that Spirit Hall is rotting from within?" Ye Tian sighed theatrically.
"Let me ask you one question."
"Speak." The Qianjun Douluo narrowed his eyes.
He wanted to see how Ye Tian planned to sway him.
"How many of the seven elders were actually trained by Spirit Hall?"
"Wha—"
The Qianjun Douluo froze mid-retort.
The question struck like lightning, revealing an uncomfortable truth.
It wasn't that Spirit Hall couldn't produce geniuses—it was that it no longer welcomed outsiders.
Each elder had taken on multiple disciples, who in turn had their own followers.
These factions now monopolized Spirit Hall's resources.
With internal competition already fierce, why would they share with outsiders—especially those requiring massive investments?
For a fleeting moment, doubt flickered in the Qianjun Douluo's heart.
If this continued, Spirit Hall would collapse under its own decay.
But the hesitation vanished as quickly as it came.
The web of interests was too entrenched to dismantle now.
Many of those factions included his own disciples and family.
Self-sabotage was unthinkable.
As long as the elders lived, Spirit Hall's dominance could last another century.
If a few geniuses emerged from these families in that time, the decline might be delayed further.
And by then?
He'd be long dead.
Let future generations worry about it.
"Clever tongue you've got," the Qianjun Douluo sneered.
"But words change nothing!"
"On this continent, strength ultimately reigns supreme—victors write history!"
"Let's see if you have what it takes to make me admit defeat!"
(End of Chapter)