The heavy, soundproofed door of the private room clicked shut behind them, the sound a soft, final punctuation to a meeting that had been a masterpiece of manipulation and suppressed hostility. The trio, flanked by their three imposing Spirit Douluo guards, began to walk down the quiet, opulent corridor of The Golden Goblet.
The tense, professional atmosphere they had maintained in front of Liu Erlong evaporated the moment they were alone.
Ning Rongrong, who had been a picture of cool, aristocratic poise, immediately broke the silence. She let go of Zhang Tian's hand, only to snake her arm around his waist and deliver a sharp, punishing pinch to his side.
"Ouch!" he yelped, a genuine sound of surprise.
"Alright, husband. Spill," she demanded, her voice a dangerous mixture of playful teasing and genuine, simmering suspicion. She looked up at him, her beautiful eyes narrowed into two sparkling, accusatory slits. "What was that all about? Don't think I didn't see you. I saw the way you were looking at that Liu Erlong woman. You were practically undressing her with your eyes!"
Zhang Tian feigned a look of pure, wounded innocence. "What are you talking about? I was simply assessing a potential business partner. It is important to understand the person you are negotiating with."
"Oh, I'm sure it is," Zhu Zhuqing's voice, a blade of cool, polished ice, cut in from his other side. She had also linked her arm through his, her grip surprisingly strong. "Rongrong is right. Your interest in her seemed… more than just professional."
Her dark eyes, which had been a mask of cold indifference during the meeting, were now burning with a possessive, challenging fire. "Are you already thinking of adding a third sister to our family? Is our bed not crowded enough for you?"
'They're so quick,' Zhang Tian thought, a silent, amused chuckle echoing in his mind. He had been a little too obvious, it seemed. His gaze had lingered on Liu Erlong's magnificent, powerful curves for a moment too long. 'They're like two little lionesses, already guarding their territory. It's… adorable.'
He let out a long, theatrical sigh, a look of profound, misunderstood weariness on his handsome face. "You two have such little faith in your husband. My heart belongs only to the two of you. How could I possibly have room for anyone else?"
"Hmph. You'd better not," Ning Rongrong grumbled, though a pleased, pink blush was already creeping up her neck.
"The reason I observed her so closely," he continued, his tone shifting, becoming more serious, more analytical, "is because I recognized her. Or rather, I recognized her spirit. Her name, Liu Erlong, and that magnificent Fire Dragon spirit… it matches the description of a figure I have read about in the sect's records."
He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "I believe she is the Slaughtering Corner of the legendary Golden Iron Triangle."
The name dropped into the quiet corridor like a stone.
Zhu Zhuqing's eyes widened slightly. She was from the Star Luo Empire; the legends of the Heaven Dou Empire's previous generation were not something she was intimately familiar with. But she recognized the weight, the significance, in his tone.
Ning Rongrong, however, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "The Golden Iron Triangle? You mean… the Golden Iron Triangle? With that money-grubbing Dean Flender and that arrogant Grandmaster Yu Xiaogang?"
"The very same," Zhang Tian confirmed with a nod. "And if she is who I think she is, then she is not just some solo mercenary. She is the former dean of the Blue Tyrant Academy, and the current Vice-Dean of the new Shrek Academy."
Ning Rongrong stared at him, her mind reeling as she processed the information. She had, of course, heard the stories from her father. The Golden Iron Triangle was a famous, if somewhat tragic, legend.
Three young, ambitious geniuses who had once roamed the continent, their three-person Martial Spirit Fusion skill, the Golden Saint Dragon, said to be a power that could challenge those far beyond their own rank.
'But Daddy said they were a flawed legend,' she recalled, her brow furrowing in thought. 'He said the fusion was interesting, a rare case of three completely disparate spirits managing to merge. But its true power was always limited by its weakest link. That Yu Xiaogang. With his pathetic, mutated pig spirit, the Golden Saint Dragon could never reach its true potential.'
She looked at Zhang Tian, her shock giving way to a new, more pressing worry. "But if that's true… if she's really one of them… then what does she want? Is she really going to meet you alone? And you're not actually going to share our secrets with her, are you?"
Her voice rose with a note of panicked alarm. "She'll just betray you! The moment you tell her anything, she'll run straight back to her companions, to that arrogant Grandmaster and that money-grubbing Dean!"
"If she acquires your methods," Zhu Zhuqing added, her own voice a low, cold current of strategic analysis, "she will undoubtedly give them to the Grandmaster. That knowledge will then be passed to Tang San, Dai Mubai, and the others. It would allow them to grow stronger, more quickly."
She looked at him, her expression grim. "And although they will never be able to truly catch up to us, I do not wish to see any of them growing stronger. They are our enemies. They will stand against us if they are ever given the opportunity."
Zhang Tian listened to their worries, a calm, reassuring smile on his face. He gently squeezed their hands.
"Do you two really think so little of your husband?" he asked, his voice a low, confident murmur. "Do you think I would be so foolish?"
He looked from one beautiful, worried face to the other. "Now that I know who she is, and more importantly, who likely sent her, do you think I would make such a rookie mistake? I have a plan. Trust me."
'A honey trap,' his mind scoffed with a silent, cold amusement. 'Does that arrogant Grandmaster really think I am so simple? So easily swayed by a beautiful woman? He has sent his own lover into the lion's den. And I am a very, very hungry lion.'
Just as he was about to elaborate on his own, far more cunning counter-plan, the air around them seemed to shimmer, to sharpen.
A figure materialized beside them, his presence as silent and as sharp as a drawn blade. It was the Sword Douluo, Chen Xin.
The three Spirit Douluo guards, who had been a silent, imposing presence behind them, immediately tensed, their hands instinctively going to the hilts of their own, far less impressive, swords.
"Grandpa Sword!" Ning Rongrong chirped, her worries momentarily forgotten in her surprise.
The trio offered him a respectful bow.
The Sword Douluo did not return their greeting. His face, usually a mask of cold, sharp indifference, was now a grim, stony landscape. His eyes, which were usually as clear and as sharp as a winter morning, were now dark, clouded with a deep, profound seriousness.
He got straight to the point. His dialogue was as sharp and as direct as a thrust from his Seven Kill Sword.
"There was another," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl that seemed to make the very air around them vibrate. "A Titled Douluo. He was following the woman. Hiding in the shadows. Watching your meeting."
A cold, icy dread, a feeling they had not felt since the day of their duel with Tang San, washed over the two girls.
"What?!" Ning Rongrong gasped, her face paling.
"His presence was… immense," the Sword Douluo continued, his gaze fixed on Zhang Tian. "And filled with a deep killing intent. He was a Super Douluo. At least Level 95."
He paused, a flicker of something, a hint of a warrior's regret, in his sharp eyes. "The moment I revealed a sliver of my own aura, he fled. Instantly. He was a master of concealment. He vanished without a trace. I could not pursue him without causing a commotion."
The news hung in the air, a heavy, suffocating blanket of a new, unknown threat.
Zhang Tian's expression, which had been one of calm, amused confidence, turned serious. A deep, thoughtful frown marred his handsome features.
His mind, a cold, brilliant chessboard, began to move its pieces with a lightning-fast speed.
'A Super Douluo,' he thought, his mind racing through the possibilities. 'One connected to Shrek Academy. There are only two possibilities.'
He considered the first. 'Yu Yuanzhen. The leader of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. Yu Xiaogang's father. He is a Super Douluo. But… it does not make sense.'
He ran through the logic, his deductions as sharp and as precise as a surgeon's scalpel. 'From what I know…That Yu Xiaogang's relationship with his clan is… strained. He is a man of immense, fragile pride. He would never ask his father for help. And even if he did, would Yu Yuanzhen truly agree to send his own niece, Liu Erlong, on such a humiliating, dishonourable mission? To seduce a boy? Unthinkable. The pride of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan would never allow it.'
He dismissed the possibility. It was a logical dead end.
Which left only one other option.
A cold, hard certainty settled in his gut.
'Tang Hao.'
The name was a familiar, bitter taste in his mind.
'He is a Super Douluo. He has a deep, burning hatred for me. And he has every reason to be here, to be watching his son, to be looking for an opportunity for revenge.'
The realization was a chilling one. It changed everything.
His plans, which had been based on the assumption that his only immediate threats were the political machinations of Qian Renxue and the clumsy, predictable plots of Yu Xiaogang, were now completely obsolete.
He was being hunted. By a wounded, grieving, and incredibly powerful beast.
'He is a persistent, powerful threat,' his inner monologue was a low, cold current of strategic analysis. 'I cannot afford to be casual in public anymore. Not even for a moment. A direct confrontation, without the absolute, overwhelming protection of a Super Douluo like Grandpa Sword, would be fatal. Not just for me, but for Rongrong and Zhuqing.'
He looked at his two beautiful fiancées, at the worried, frightened expressions on their faces, and a fierce, protective fire ignited in his soul.
'And our home,' he thought, a new, more terrifying fear coiling in his gut. 'He must not find it. He must not find Ah Yin. If he does… his rage would be uncontrollable. He would not hesitate to level the entire district to get to her. The battle would be catastrophic. And Ah Yin… she would be exposed.'
The stakes had just been raised to an entirely new, and far more dangerous, level.
He looked at the Sword Douluo, his expression now one of grim, serious resolve. "Thank you for the warning, Grandpa Sword. It is… invaluable information."
He then turned to his two fiancées, his voice a low, firm command. "We are going home. Now."
The rest of the walk back to their estate was a silent, tense affair. The earlier, lighthearted mood was gone, replaced by a new, sober understanding of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of their new life.
The Sword Douluo escorted them to their gates, a silent, powerful guardian. He checked the entire perimeter of the estate with his immense spiritual sense, ensuring there were no hidden threats, before giving them a final, reassuring nod and melting back into the shadows.
The three Spirit Douluo guards took up their positions in the small house adjacent to the estate, a visible, powerful deterrent to any would-be intruders.
The trio returned to their living room, the beautiful, opulent space now feeling less like a home and more like a fortress.
Zhang Tian was deep in thought, his mind already formulating new, more cautious plans for their future training, for their public appearances, for their very lives.
~~
Two months.
Two months of blood, sweat, and a relentless, grinding ascent that had transformed the trio from promising talents into bona fide legends of the Heaven Dou Great Spirit Arena. The city buzzed with their name, the "Treasure Silver Civet" a whispered myth, a terrifying bedtime story for aspiring Spirit Ancestors.
Their new routine was a brutal, beautiful symphony of discipline and passion.
Their days were a carefully orchestrated dance between the secluded sanctuary of their estate and the public, bloody stage of the arena. Mornings were for intense, private training.
Ning Rongrong stood in the center of their vast courtyard, her face a mask of intense concentration. Before her, a swirling, nine-colored sphere of pure spirit power pulsed with a dangerous, unstable energy.
"Three seconds…" she grumbled, her brow furrowed in frustration as the sphere finally stabilized. "It's still too slow! In a real fight against someone as fast as Zhuqing, three seconds is an eternity!"
'I need to be faster,' she thought, her mind a whirlwind of new, creative ideas. She pictured Zhuqing's Eclipse Ray Strike, the focused, devastating beam of energy. 'Could I do that? Could I shape my spirit power into a beam instead of a ball? Or maybe… a cannonball? Something with more force, more impact.' The ideas were still nascent, unformed, but the seed of offensive innovation had been planted. For now, mastering the sphere was her primary obsession.
In a different part of the estate, in a specially constructed, soundproofed workshop, Zhang Tian was engaged in his own, quieter form of creation. The air was filled with the scent of hot metal and the faint, ozonic tang of spirit power being used with microscopic precision.
He was no longer just an alchemist; he was a Spirit Engineer. Spread before him on a large workbench were sheets of rare, shimmering metals—Deep Sea Mithril, Blazing Sun Iron, Star Patterned Steel. His father-in-law's support was absolute; any material he requested, no matter how rare or expensive, would appear at his workshop within days.
He held a small, intricate tool in his hand. It was a simple steel handle, but at its tip, a single, impossibly sharp and fine needle of crimson Blood Silver Grass extended. It was his custom-made Engraving Knife, an instrument he controlled with the absolute, flawless precision of his Blood Silver Emperor spirit.
With it, he was etching intricate, microscopic circuit arrays onto thin plates of metal, the foundations for the soft, defensive armors he was designing. He had already completed a prototype for Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing. Now, in the quiet solitude of his workshop, he was crafting a third, a secret gift for his Empress.
But their days were not just spent in quiet training. Every single afternoon, a heavily guarded, unmarked carriage from the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect would arrive at their estate. It would transport them to the Great Spirit Arena, where they would unleash a controlled, terrifying storm of destruction.
Their rise through the ranks had been a thing of brutal, beautiful efficiency. They had torn through the Bronze tier in a matter of weeks, their consecutive victories a relentless, unbroken chain. They had then ascended to the Silver tier, and now, after two long months of daily battles, they stood on the cusp of a new realm, their Silver Spirit Badges glowing, their points halfway to the prestigious Gold rank.
The fear of the Treasure Silver Civet had become a palpable thing in the Spirit Ancestor tier. Teams would see their name on the matchup board and simply forfeit. They were no longer just a team; they were a force of nature, an unsolvable puzzle of impossible power.
And their nights… their nights were a different kind of battle. A beautiful, chaotic, and deeply intimate war of passion and surrender.
Ning Rongrong had blossomed even more. She had become a naughty, confident, and surprisingly voracious lover. She had learned the art of seduction from her best friend, and she was a very, very quick study.
Zhu Zhuqing, for her part, had embraced her role as the vanguard of their nightly conquests. It had become their routine. She would be the one to handle his initial, wild, untamed lust.
"Ready, husband?" she would purr, her magnificent, naked body a breathtaking silhouette against the soft lamplight as she crawled towards him across the massive bed.
She would take him for three full, intense rounds, her own powerful, insatiable desire a perfect match for his. She would ride him, she would take him from behind, she would meet his every rough, primal thrust with a fierce, loving surrender.
Only then, when the initial, raging fire of his lust had been banked to a more manageable, smoldering inferno, would Ning Rongrong join them. And together, the two of them, a perfect, harmonious team of seduction, would spend the rest of the night exploring every facet of their shared desire, their moans and laughter a beautiful, secret symphony in the quiet, opulent suite. They could now last the entire night, their combined stamina and creative passion finally a match for their insatiable Emperor.
And sometimes, on the rare nights when the two girls were truly, completely, and utterly spent from a particularly grueling day in the arena, Zhang Tian would slip away. He would move through the silent, sleeping mansion, a ghost in the shadows, his destination the quiet, secluded quarters of his secret Empress.
Ah Yin was always waiting. She had settled into her role as their maid with a seamless, perfect grace. To the two girls, she was a quiet, efficient, and deeply pitiful figure. But to him, in the secret darkness of the night, she was a goddess of lust, a magnificent, mature woman whose passion was a deep, endless ocean that he could lose himself in.
Their nights together were a different kind of fire. It was not the wild, youthful passion he shared with his fiancées. It was a deep, powerful, and incredibly raw connection, a meeting of two ancient, powerful souls. She could handle all of him, his roughness, his dominance, his seemingly endless lust, and she would meet it with an equal, loving surrender that left him breathless.
Her own cultivation, in the quiet solitude of her new life, had progressed steadily. She was now in the late stages of Level 84, the threshold of the eighty-fifth rank just a few months away.
The two months of intense, secluded training had been a period of monstrous growth for the trio.
Zhang Tian, fueled by a nightly torrent of power from his domain and a steady diet of passionate, intimate energy from his two wives, felt his own cultivation soar. He had reached Level 47, his power as a Spirit Ancestor now so deep, so consolidated, that he was confident he could face even a normal Spirit King in a one-on-one battle.
Ning Rongrong, with her evolved pagoda, her Spirit Core, and her relentless training, had reached Level 43.
And Zhu Zhuqing, her body a perfect vessel forged in the fires of the Ice and Fire Yin Yang Well, had reached Level 44.
Their growth rate was a secret, a monstrous, world-shaking truth that was known only to the three of them and the highest echelons of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect.
To the outside world, the source of their power was a mystery, a puzzle that every major faction on the continent was desperate to solve.
Ning Fengzhi had played his part to perfection. He had met with the Emperor, with the deans of the academies, with the emissaries from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. He had been a master of misdirection and political theater.
He had revealed his own, newly evolved Nine Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda, a shocking, undeniable display of power that had immediately shifted the focus of the entire world onto him. He had spoken of ancient, secret pill recipes, of lost alchemical knowledge that his sect had recently unearthed. He had confirmed that his daughter and her companions were the first beneficiaries of this new, miraculous power.
His cultivation, which had soared to Level 86 after he had consumed the immortal herb Zhang Tian had gifted him, was the final, irrefutable proof. The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was no longer just a wealthy power; it was a rising, terrifying force, and Ning Fengzhi was its brilliant, enigmatic leader.
Far from the opulent halls of the sect and the grand, political machinations of the capital, a different, more personal kind of drama was playing out.
Liu Erlong stood on a high, windswept cliff in the Sunset Forest, the wind whipping her fiery red hair around her face. Below her, the forest was a vast, green ocean.
She looked down at the lifeless body of a fifteen-thousand-year-old spirit beast at her feet, a single, clean wound through its heart. It had been a difficult, dangerous hunt, but she and her new team, "The Crimson Blades," had been victorious.
A faint, shimmering light rose from the beast's corpse. A spirit bone.
One of her teammates, a burly, bearded man named Kael, let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Another one, Captain. Your luck is unnatural."
Liu Erlong just stared at the spirit bone, a leg bone of no particular distinction. It was a fine treasure, worth a small fortune. But it was not what she was looking for.
'It's not enough,' she thought, a familiar, bitter wave of frustration washing over her. 'It's only fifteen thousand years old. He wouldn't even look at it twice.'
Her life for the past two months had been a strange, frustrating limbo. She had thrown herself into her new role as a mercenary captain with a fierce, almost desperate, intensity. She had built a reputation. She had amassed a fortune. She had pushed her own cultivation to the absolute peak of Level 79, the bottleneck of the Spirit Douluo realm a fragile, tantalizing barrier that was just within her reach.
But it was all a means to an end. An end that seemed to be getting further and further away with each passing day.
Every evening, without fail, she would return to Heaven Dou City. She would wash away the blood and grime of the hunt, put on her finest, most seductive crimson dress, and make her way to The Golden Goblet tavern.
And every evening, the ritual was the same.
She would walk to the bar, her heart a tight, hopeful knot in her chest. The barkeeper, a man who had come to know her well, would see her coming and just give her a small, sad shake of his head.
"Nothing today, Captain Erlong," he would say, his voice filled with a genuine, sympathetic pity.
And every evening, she would just nod, her face a mask of stone, and walk out of the tavern, the hope in her heart dying a little more with each visit.
She was trapped. Trapped in this lie, this endless, frustrating waiting game. She couldn't return to Shrek Academy, to Xiaogang, without a prize worthy of his attention. To do so would be to admit failure. And she could not, would not, fail him.
She stood on the cliff, the wind a lonely, mournful sound in her ears. She looked out at the vast, indifferent wilderness, and for the first time in a long, long time, she felt a profound, aching loneliness. She was a queen in this world of mercenaries, a respected, feared, and powerful figure.
But she was also just a woman, waiting for a call that might never come.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Harem Master: Seduction System" and the "Villain: Manipulating the Heroines into hating the Protagonist" and I hope you like this story and those stories as well.
Check out more chapters on my P.atreon. The P.atreon will have 20+ Chapters ahead for this story. I hope you like it.
The link of p.atreon is: bit.ly/evildragon