Chapter 292: Tensions Flare
At the first sight of the approaching figure, a volcanic rage erupted within Tang San. His teeth clenched audibly, and his eyes turned a furious shade of red, his demeanor reverting to the intensity he'd shown upon first leaving the Slaughter City. He recognized that face instantly—the face of his sworn enemy, Dai Yao. Though it had been five years and Dai Yao's appearance had matured, with an air of refinement that might have deceived others, Tang San's hatred was far too deep to be fooled.
"Dai Yao!" he growled, the name escaping in a voice raw and guttural, like a wounded beast's cry. But his whisper of hate was lost amidst the uproar Dai Yao's words had incited among the Haotian Sect disciples.
"Hold your tongue!"
"Who are you to insult Haotian Sect!" shouted some of the younger disciples, their faces flushed with fury. While a few of the more composed disciples managed to hold back from openly reacting, their fists were clenched in anger, eager to pounce on the arrogant outsider.
Though Haotian Sect had been hidden from the world for years, its disciples still carried the pride of belonging to the so-called "Number One Sect." From a young age, they'd heard stories of how the Haotian Hammer once commanded respect across the continent. Over the years, with the sect's isolationist policy, that pride had only intensified, mingling with pent-up frustration over being kept in the shadows. Many longed to demonstrate the sect's power, and now here was an outsider who dared to deride the Haotian Hammer—revered as the mightiest Tool Spirit—without the slightest trace of respect.
This open disrespect ignited the fires of anger within them, built up over decades of silence, and it was as if nothing short of obliterating Dai Yao would suffice to quench their wrath.
"A bold brat, daring to run his mouth here. Today, you'll die for your insolence!"
The Seventh Elder stood on the iron bridge, his expression icy, his gaze deadly as it locked onto Dai Yao. This stranger had struck a nerve.
But in that instant, his attention was pulled away by a signal from the Second Elder. Glancing at the Second Elder's grave expression, a flicker of alarm crossed the Seventh Elder's face. He turned back to Dai Yao, his gaze now wary and filled with hatred. Without a word, he spun and swiftly headed back toward the heart of the sect.
While the younger generation seethed with anger, the more experienced Titled Douluo elders displayed none of the same light-hearted fury. The Sect Leader, Tang Xiao, in particular, stood as immovable as a mountain, his towering frame and piercing tiger-like eyes fixed firmly on the golden-haired stranger below, his heart in turmoil.
Tang Xiao could sense three formidable presences emanating from the snowy peaks where Dai Yao had appeared. Two of those auras unmistakably matched those of the Wuhun Hall elders who had once forced Haotian Sect into hiding. Though nearly two decades had passed, Tang Xiao's memory of them was unshakable.
"Wuhun Hall..." he muttered, hands clenched behind his back, his knuckles white with tension as a storm of anger from twenty years of resentment began to resurface.
The younger generation of the Haotian Sect harbored little understanding of Wuhun Hall's tyranny; their resentment was tempered by the hazy memories of their childhood. But for Tang Xiao and the other elders, the scars were still raw. They remembered witnessing their beloved leader—Tang Xiao's own father—driven to his death by Wuhun Hall, powerless to save him. Now, after two decades of secrecy and growth, the Haotian Sect had achieved an unprecedented strength. Yet Tang Xiao knew that even with their six Titled Douluo, the sect was still unprepared for open rebellion.
The timing wasn't right; their sect had limited allies, especially with the Four Great Clans having parted ways. It was essential to bide their time, awaiting a moment when perhaps the two great empires would rise against Wuhun Hall, or when some weakness would present itself.
"Tang San, get back here," he whispered in a low, urgent voice.
Hearing his uncle's command and seeing the severe expression on Tang Xiao's face, Tang San hesitated, the urge to fight Dai Yao clawing at him. But ultimately, he yielded to Tang Xiao's judgment, retreating across the iron bridge and rejoining his fellow disciples.
As he reached the platform, the young Haotian Sect disciples who had previously resented Tang San for his father's actions no longer viewed him with hostility. Now, their focus lay solely on their shared enemy. Tang Yuehua, graceful in her elegant silver gown, approached him with a whisper.
"Tang San, wear your mask," she advised softly.
Tang San hesitated, then understood her reasoning. With a nod, he retrieved the mask he had worn in the Slaughter City from his storage ring. This mask concealed the changes his appearance had undergone after absorbing the Blue Silver King spirit ring, rendering him unrecognizable to anyone from his past. This anonymity, he realized, could work to his advantage.
"Brat, I'll give you one chance to leave Haotian Sect immediately," Tang Xiao's voice thundered, resonating across the snowy peaks. "Apologize for your disrespect, and I'll let this go. Otherwise, no matter where you're from, you'll never leave here alive."
Tang Xiao's powerful words reverberated through the mountains, even sending sheets of snow tumbling from the peaks and causing the clouds to ripple. Some younger disciples bristled at Tang Xiao's leniency, thinking it unbefitting of their sect's dignity. But their respect for him held them in check.
"I've come to witness the power of the Haotian Hammer. Without achieving that, why would I leave?" Dai Yao replied with a casual smile, his tone infuriatingly indifferent. "Will no one here fight? Or have you all grown too soft after hiding away for so long?"
The nonchalance in his words, the disdain beneath them, stoked the sect's collective fury to new heights.
"Bastard!"
"Sect Leader, allow me to go down and cut him to pieces!" Voices rose among the Haotian Sect disciples, each echoing the desire to silence Dai Yao once and for all.
The Seventh Elder's gaze bored into Dai Yao with murderous intent, and though his expression remained calm, an inferno of anger blazed within him. Turning to Tang Xiao, he spoke with barely restrained fury.
"Sect Leader, you may be willing to endure this insult, but I cannot. Wuhun Hall took my son's life all those years ago, and now they come again, step by step, pushing us further into a corner. Our restraint has brought us nothing but humiliation. The Haotian Sect now boasts six Titled Douluo—I will no longer stand by and watch. I demand we make this arrogant brat an example and avenge our fallen."
Tang Xiao's tiger-like eyes, as deep and inscrutable as a tranquil pool, betrayed none of his thoughts. Casting a sidelong glance at the Second Elder, he noticed him nodding subtly. The Second Elder, it seemed, approved of the Seventh Elder's request.
With six Titled Douluo, perhaps it was indeed time for the Haotian Sect to reemerge.
Yet, Tang Xiao harbored a trace of hesitation. The Seventh Elder, a Titled Douluo, attacking a lower-level Spirit Master would surely damage the Haotian Sect's reputation. Furthermore, what was the Wuhun Hall's true purpose here today, and why send a mere youth to confront them?
As the tension between the sect master and the five elders grew thicker, Tang San opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. He was well aware that as an outsider to the sect, his input would be met with skepticism. Still, he had a plan. Although he despised Dai Yao, he needed to secure his father's reinstatement within the Haotian Sect. He knew that no one among the Haotian younger generation could hold a candle to Dai Yao, but when he stepped in...
Then, he could rescue the situation at the last moment, giving the sect elders no choice but to acknowledge his strength. Even those who harbored resentment toward his father might ease their opposition, and a glimmer of hope would emerge for his father's return to the fold.
As for the possibility of losing? He dismissed it with a small smile and shake of his head. His last five years of arduous training were his assurance: mastery of the hammer, the awakening of the Blue Silver Emperor, and the harsh trials of the Slaughter City had propelled his strength to new heights. He knew that while Dai Yao had enjoyed the luxuries of Wuhun Hall, any progress he'd made would pale in comparison to his own.
Clenching his fists, he tuned into the escalating tension around him, waiting for the moment to act.
After a moment's contemplation, Tang Xiao released a powerful surge of energy that seemed to reverberate through the heavens. A transparent shockwave expanded outward in a visible ring, scattering the snow from the peaks to reveal the dark brown bedrock hidden below.
"Young one," Tang Xiao's thunderous voice resounded across the sky, "this place is no place for you. Send your elders to speak on your behalf."
The immense pressure weighed down on Dai Yao, even from thousands of meters away, as if a mountain bore down upon him. Just then, two figures appeared beside him: one shadowy, like a phantom, and the other clad in golden armor with an almost flirtatious grace.
It was Ghost Douluo and Chrysanthemum Douluo.
Their presence immediately reversed Tang Xiao's pressure, with even a slight advantage pressing back against him.
"Eager to meet us, are you?" Chrysanthemum Douluo's sly voice broke the tension. "How the times change… it seems you, Tang Xiao, have taken the role of sect master. We were there to bid farewell to your predecessor, after all."
Ghost Douluo's raspy chuckle was like a blade slicing through the air, reopening old wounds for the Haotian Sect elders. They hadn't forgotten: these two were the very agents who had forced their clan into hiding, the ones directly responsible for the late sect master's tragic end.
"Seventh Elder, it's up to you. Since we don't yet know Wuhun Hall's true intentions, it's best not to reveal our full hand," the Second Elder instructed the Seventh Elder.
The Seventh Elder grinned broadly, thrilled for the opportunity to flex his power. Nine soul rings ascended, his aura blazing into the sky as he charged forward toward Chrysanthemum and Ghost Douluo. Although his power fell short of Tang Xiao's, he was still a formidable Titled Douluo.
In their clash, the two sides reached a stalemate.
Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo were both startled—another Titled Douluo had emerged from the Haotian Sect in these past twenty years. And this was only the strength they had displayed thus far; who knew what other powers lay hidden within Haotian's depths...
They shared a silent grumble: of the six Wuhun Hall Douluo who had come, only the three from the Hall proper had revealed their powers. Logic dictated that if all six Douluo acted together, they would easily overpower Haotian Sect. Yet, the three Douluo from the Supreme Pontiff's Hall had other motives. They wanted the Haotian Sect's full strength exposed, while the three from the Sacred Hall of Protectors wished to avoid unnecessary conflict.
"Of course," the two muttered internally, "the Supreme Pontiff's Hall wants us to bear the brunt of any clashes with Haotian Sect." It was a clear testament to the fierce internal strife within Wuhun Hall, so intense that even a direct confrontation with Haotian Sect couldn't completely unify them.
"You old dogs!" the Seventh Elder shouted, bristling with rage. "How dare you prance around my Haotian Sect! Why have you come here today?" Though seething with fury, he reined in his anger, keenly aware of the importance of keeping Wuhun Hall guessing their true strength.
"Oh, aren't you the elder I remember from your late sect master's side?" Chrysanthemum Douluo's taunting smile cut through the Seventh Elder's fury. "I still recall your furious face when I forced you into hiding."
"You…!" The Seventh Elder's face flushed with anger, his breath labored, his long, white beard bristling.
"Seventh Elder." Tang Xiao's calm, steady voice reined him in.
The Seventh Elder drew a deep breath, calming himself before turning back to face Chrysanthemum Douluo. Tang Xiao stepped forward. "Why have you Wuhun Hall people come here?" he demanded coldly.
"Oh, didn't our young man already say?" Chrysanthemum Douluo replied with a smile. "We're simply here to see if your fabled Haotian Hammer lives up to its reputation."
Tang Xiao and the five elders exchanged puzzled glances. Just that? They knew better than to trust Wuhun Hall's apparent simplicity, understanding there had to be a hidden agenda. Though still uncertain, their younger disciples were seething with fury behind them.
"Sect Master, let me go!"
"Sect Master, I'll put that brat in his place!"
Young disciples of the Haotian Sect jostled to volunteer. For them, this was about more than the insult to their sect's honor—this was about avenging old grievances against Wuhun Hall. Rage surged within them, compounded by fresh and festering hatred for this newcomer from Wuhun Hall.
"What's wrong? Are there no worthy fighters left in Haotian Sect?" Dai Yao's taunt, delivered with casual indifference, was like oil poured on a blazing fire. The assembled disciples bristled with renewed anger.
"Sect Master…" the Second Elder murmured gravely to Tang Xiao.
"I understand." Tang Xiao's face betrayed a flicker of hesitation before he closed his eyes in deliberation. After a long pause, he reopened them, his gaze sharp and resolute.
"Tang Long!" he called.
"At your command!" Tang Long, a middle-aged man who had exchanged words with Tang San, dropped to one knee, his voice fierce with loyalty.
"You are to challenge him. You must win, do you understand?" Tang Xiao commanded, his voice steely as he addressed Haotian Sect's most talented younger disciple.
Among Haotian's younger generation, Tang Long and Tang Hu were peerless. Earlier, Tang Hu had been bested by Tang San. Now, it was Tang Long's turn to uphold the sect's honor.
"Yes, Sect Master!" Tang Long responded firmly. He turned, eyes ablaze with anger as he glared at the young man standing on the snowy mountain in the distance, and slowly set foot upon the iron bridge.
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