" As Tang Hao had obtained the Death God domain from Slaughter City... he is a good anchor."
Her expression cooled as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. "If Tang Hao carries Asura's blessing… then Bibi Dong… she should already bear the imprint of the Rakshasa Goddess in her consciousness."
The parrot stirred lightly, and Qian Renxue paused her caress, gazing back at the battlefield. The outcome was now decided; the two Douluo who served her grandfather lay defeated, while Tang Hao's hammer loomed like a mountain ready to crush all before it.
The girl did not look disappointed. Instead, she leaned back against the bark of the tree, her tone faint, almost casual, yet laced with hidden weight. "This world… is not only a battlefield of soul masters, but also the chessboard of gods.."
Her purple eyes flickered like twin stars, reflecting both the brilliance of the heavens and the shadow of a schemer's heart.
----
Tang Hao's Great Sumer Hammer, empowered by rage, grief, and divine interference, cleaved through the 9th soul skill—a brilliant sphere of pure energy conjured by Qian Xunji. The clash was cataclysmic, light and darkness colliding in a shockwave that split the clouds.
But in the end, divine will outweighed mortal power. The golden-white sphere cracked, then shattered completely, fragments of light dispersing into the night like dying stars.
Bang!
The enormous black hammer struck Qian Xunji square in the chest. His protective aura shattered like glass, and the Pope of Spirit Hall was flung backward like a broken kite with its string cut. His body crashed through thick trunks before slamming into the ground, gouging a crater into the forest floor.
Blood filled his mouth, yet his eyes—wide, venomous—suddenly shifted. A primal instinct, honed through decades of battles and sharpened by paranoia, pulled his attention not to Tang Hao, but to a distant place. His gaze pierced through the horizon, locking onto a tree two mountains away.
At the same moment, Tang Hao's eyes also narrowed, catching the subtle disturbance. Without hesitation, he raised the Clear Sky Hammer once more, his killing intent condensed into one decisive throw.
Whoosh!
The colossal hammer, like a dark star, tore through the air, spinning toward that distant presence like a predator sensing prey.
High above the tree where she had been watching, Qian Renxue's lips curled into a smirk. Her purple eyes flashed with amusement rather than fear.
'So you noticed me…, Tang Hao. But I am not without preparations.'
Her body dissolved into shimmering bubbles, rippling outward like the surface of a dream being disturbed. In the blink of an eye, her figure vanished completely, as if stepping into the illusory folds.
Moments later, the hammer descended.
Dhroom!
The impact obliterated the tree, reducing the trunk to splinters and gouging a massive pit into the earth. Shockwaves rolled across the mountain slope, scattering rocks and snapping smaller trees like twigs.
Birds screamed and scattered from their nests, including several parrots that had been resting nearby, startled into flight.
From amidst the smoke and falling debris, another silhouette emerged—battered, cloaked, and carrying a bundle in his arms.
Tang Hao, who looked weary beyond his years, his broad shoulders weighed down not only by wounds but by an unseen grief. He lowered his gaze to the tiny infant in his arms—his child, his last tether to Ah Yin.
The baby's face was pale, its tiny body limp, breath stilled as if life itself had abandoned it. Tang Hao's heart clenched in despair.
Then—suddenly—
A faint spark flickered within the infant's chest. A shallow, fragile breath escaped its lips. Color returned to its cheeks, and its little hands twitched as though grasping for life itself.
Tang Hao's entire body froze. His eyes widened, disbelief and relief warring in his expression.
"…Was it… my mistake?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice breaking.
Above him, the parrots circled once before flying into the distance.
Tang Hao looked around cautiously, he felt his warrior's instincts never dulled despite his grief. Only after ensuring no one else lingered nearby did he kneel and carefully set down the baby. From his soul guide, he brought forth a small wooden box.
With trembling hands, he opened it. Inside lay the 100,000-year-old Right Leg Bone of the Blue Silver Emperor—Ah Yin's soul bone. Its blue-silver radiance glowed faintly, like a slumbering star, pulsing with the essence of life itself.
Even after being hastily sealed away during the chaos, its vitality had not dimmed. It exuded warmth, a gentle aura reminiscent of Ah Yin's embrace.
Along with it was a seed that also emanated the gentle aura. Tang Hao felt that this seed might be the last gift from Ah Yin.
Tang Hao's gaze softened, sorrow flickering in his eyes.
"…Ah Yin."
For a long moment, he simply stared, lost in memory. Then, with a heavy sigh, he closed the box and placed it back into his soul guide. His hand lingered a moment longer on the lid, unwilling to part with even this remnant of her.
He adjusted the infant back into his arms, carefully wrapping the baby in a cloth scarf. Pulling another scarf over his own face, Tang Hao turned away from the battlefield. His figure, tall yet weighed down by solitude, disappeared into the forest's shadows.
Unbeknownst to him… the child in his arms was not the same one born moments earlier.
The spark of life that had reignited within the newborn was not its own anymore, it was foreign. A soul from elsewhere, drawn into this fragile body by divine will.
Tang Hao would never know that the soul of his original son had long since gone to afterlife, and another soul has taken it's place.