Dai Mubai stared, his handsome face a pale, ashen landscape of pure terror. The corridor, which had been buzzing with the low murmur of onlookers, was now a vacuum of horrified silence. He looked at the calm, smiling, and terrifyingly serious face of the boy before him. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the very marrow of his bones, that Zhang Tian was not joking.
This was not a simple threat. It was a promise.
Before Dai Mubai's frozen mind could even begin to formulate a response, another voice, cold and hard as forged steel, cut through the silence.
"We accept."
All eyes snapped to Tang San. He stepped forward, placing himself between Dai Mubai and Zhang Tian, his face a mask of grim, unshakeable resolve. He looked at Zhang Tian, and his eyes were blazing with a cold, furious fire.
"There is no way our Shrek team will lose to a group of arrogant, pampered nobles like yours," he stated, his voice a blade of pure, unwavering confidence. "We accept your challenge. And your ridiculous, pathetic bet."
Zhang Tian just looked at him, and his cruel, beautiful smile widened. He let out a soft, almost pitying chuckle. "Oh, look at the little hero," he purred, his voice a lazy, condescending drawl. "Stepping in to save his friend. How… noble. And how utterly, completely foolish."
He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over Tang San with a look of profound, almost academic, contempt. "You seem to be forgetting your place, little imposter. This bet is not yours to accept. It is his." He gestured with his chin towards the still-pale Dai Mubai. "It is his pathetic little sausage that will be on the chopping block. Not yours."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate, and utterly poisonous whisper that was meant only for Tang San. "Or are you so eager to offer up your own? Have you forgotten the pain of losing a part of yourself? It has been a year since you got your arm back. Perhaps you've forgotten what it feels like to be… incomplete." His eyes glinted with a beautiful, cruel light. "This time, however, there will be no miraculous recovery. It will be permanent."
Tang San's body went rigid. The memory of the pain, of the humiliation, of the phantom ache that still sometimes haunted him in his dreams, was a fresh, raw wound. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his chest.
But he did not lose his composure. He met Zhang Tian's mocking gaze with a cold, hard stare of his own. "You speak as though your victory is a certainty," he snarled, his voice a low, dangerous sound. "Don't be so arrogant. You will eat those words when we meet on the tournament stage."
Zhang Tian just shrugged, a gesture of bored, casual dismissal. He turned his attention back to Dai Mubai, who had been a silent, frozen statue throughout the entire, beautiful exchange.
"Well, Princey?" Zhang Tian purred. "We are waiting. Do you have the balls to accept? Or will you be tucking them between your legs and running away like the coward I know you are?"
Ning Rongrong let out a delighted, musical giggle. "Oh, this is just pathetic," she chirped, her voice a sweet, venomous sound that was for everyone to hear. "Look at him. The great Evil Eye White Tiger, the prince of the Star Luo Empire… scared speechless by a simple little bet. How disappointing."
"He is just now realizing his place in the world," Zhu Zhuqing's voice was a low, cold murmur, but her eyes, when they looked at Dai Mubai, were filled with a deep, profound contempt. "A dog that barks loudly, but has no teeth."
Qian Renxue, who had been a silent, amused observer, just fanned herself with a graceful, elegant motion. "It is a rather… vulgar wager," she said, her voice a smooth, aristocratic melody. "But an entertaining one. I, for one, am quite curious to see how this plays out."
The combination of their taunts, of the memory of his past humiliation, of the burning, all-consuming desire for revenge, it all just boiled over. Dai Mubai's fear was consumed, annihilated, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated, and almost suicidal rage.
He looked at Zhang Tian, and his evil eyes were blazing with a new, hard-won, and terrifyingly confident light. He thought of his team. He thought of Tang San's monstrous, new power. He thought of their own, brutal, year-long training. And he thought of the reports he had read about the Emperor Team, of their flawless, but ultimately untested, record in the lesser arenas.
'We can win,' he thought, a cold, hard knot of conviction forming in his gut. 'With Xiao San back, with our new power… we can win. And if we win… he dies. A clean, honorable death on the tournament stage. No repercussions. No revenge from the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect. It is a perfect, God-sent opportunity.'
The risk was immense. The thought of losing his manhood, of living the rest of his life as a pathetic, broken eunuch… it was a terror beyond measure.
But the reward… the reward was everything.
"I accept," he roared, his voice a deep, resonant boom that echoed in the silent corridor. He took a step forward, his own powerful aura flaring to life, a golden-white inferno of pure, aggressive energy. "I accept your challenge, Zhang Tian. And I accept your wager. And I promise you, on my honor as a prince of the Star Luo Empire, you will regret this day for the rest of your very, very short life."
While this dramatic, high-stakes negotiation was unfolding, a different, more subtle, and far more profound kind of conflict was taking place just a few feet away.
Tang San, his own rage a simmering, controlled fire, found his gaze drawn, almost against his will, to the silent, crimson-haired woman who stood just behind Zhang Tian.
He had noticed her before, of course. Her mature, devastating beauty was a thing that was impossible to ignore. But now, as he truly looked at her, at the elegant, regal grace of her posture, at the deep, ancient power that seemed to hum just beneath her skin, he felt… something else.
It was a strange, disorienting feeling. A sense of a deep, profound, and almost painfully familiar connection. It was like looking at a memory he could not quite place, like hearing a song he had forgotten the words to. And at the same time, he felt a strange, hollow ache in his chest, a feeling of a great, and irreplaceable, loss.
Ah Yin met his gaze, and her own, carefully constructed mask of calm, demure indifference almost shattered. She looked at the face of her son, the face she had not seen in a lifetime. But it was not her son. It was an imposter. A thief who was wearing his skin, who was using his name, who was living his life.
She wanted to kill him. She wanted to rip him apart, to tear the flesh from his bones, to see the life fade from his eyes.
She held herself in check, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. 'Not yet, my love,' she thought, her gaze flickering to Zhang Tian for a fraction of a second. 'Soon. But not yet.'
Tang San felt the sudden, inexplicable wave of pure, killing intent that washed over him. It was a cold, sharp, and deeply personal thing, and it was coming from her.
He frowned, a look of profound, bewildered confusion on his plain face. "Excuse me," he began, his voice a low, polite sound as he looked at the crimson-haired woman. "Have we… have we met before? I feel as though I know you from somewhere."
Ah Yin's beautiful face, which had been a mask of stone, broke into a slow, cold, and utterly contemptuous smile. "No," she said, her voice a blade of pure, unadulterated ice. "I have never seen you before in my life."
The words were a slap, a dismissal so absolute, so final, that it left Tang San reeling, a new, strange, and deeply unsettling sense of loss and confusion washing over him.
He did not have time to process it. The main event was reaching its conclusion.
Zhang Tian just chuckled at Dai Mubai's proud, defiant declaration. He gave a slow, almost lazy, nod of his head. "Then it is settled," he said, his voice a calm, final sound that brokered no argument.
He turned to his companions, his expression one of bored, casual dismissal, as if the entire, life-altering negotiation had been nothing more than a minor, amusing diversion.
"Come, my loves," he said, his voice a warm, intimate sound that was meant only for them. "We have wasted enough time with these children. Let us continue our date."
With that, he turned, and the five of them walked away, leaving the entire Shrek team standing in the corridor, their hearts a mixture of a fierce, triumphant hope, and a new terrifyingly real fear.
The tense, exhilarating energy of the confrontation lingered in the air as they walked back to the estate, a silent, beautiful procession that turned heads wherever they went. The moment the grand gates clicked shut behind them, sealing them in their private paradise, the atmosphere shifted. The cold, hard masks they wore for the outside world melted away, replaced by a comfortable, easy familiarity.
Ah Yin, with a soft, knowing smile, gave a slight bow. "I will go and prepare some refreshments for everyone," she said, her voice the perfect, humble murmur of a maid, though her eyes, when they met Zhang Tian's for a fraction of a second, held a deep, shared amusement. She glided away towards the kitchens, her hips swaying in a subtle, hypnotic rhythm that was meant only for him.
"Well," Ning Rongrong declared, stretching her arms above her head with a dramatic yawn. "That was... surprisingly exhausting. All that posturing and threatening. I need to relax."
Zhang Tian just chuckled, a low, warm sound. He walked over to a small, ornate table in the center of the courtyard, where a strange, beautiful object rested. It was a box, carved from a deep, lustrous black wood, its surface etched with intricate, silver patterns that seemed to hum with a faint, magical energy. This was one of his favorite creations, a device he called a 'Speaker'.
He pressed a small, almost invisible crystal on its side. And the world was filled with music.
It was not the loud, boisterous music of a tavern, or the formal, stuffy music of the court. It was something else entirely. It was the sound of a zither, but a zither played with a skill that was almost divine. The notes were clear, ethereal, seeming to hang in the air like shimmering motes of dust, weaving a melody that was both sorrowful and hopeful, a sound that seemed to speak of ancient, forgotten things.
"Ah, I love this one," Ning Rongrong sighed, her earlier tension melting away completely. She closed her eyes, a blissful, dreamy expression on her face.
The music was a recording, a perfect, flawless capture of a performance they had witnessed just a week ago. They had found him in a small, forgotten corner of the city, an old, blind musician whose Martial Spirit was his zither itself. The music he created was not just sound; it was an extension of his soul. Zhang Tian had been so moved by it that he had offered the old man a small fortune to allow him to record a single performance.
The first, slow, melancholic notes of the song filled the courtyard. And then, the rhythm changed. It became faster, more playful, a beautiful, intricate dance of sound.
Qian Renxue, who had been standing silently by the edge of the courtyard, her mind still a whirlwind of political calculations, felt the music wash over her. It was a strange, beautiful, and incredibly soothing sound. She found herself, almost against her will, beginning to sway to the rhythm.
Ning Rongrong's eyes snapped open, a mischievous, brilliant light in their depths. She looked at Zhu Zhuqing, and then at Qian Renxue. "Well," she said, her voice a happy, challenging chime. "The music is playing. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, don't you think?"
She didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed Zhu Zhuqing's hand and pulled her into the center of the courtyard. Qian Renxue, after a moment's hesitation, let out a soft, almost shy laugh and joined them.
The three women began to dance.
It was not a formal, choreographed dance. It was a fluid, instinctive, and utterly beautiful expression of their shared, joyful energy.
Ning Rongrong was a whirlwind of color and laughter, her movements light and playful.
Zhu Zhuqing was a creature of subtle, dangerous grace, her every step a masterpiece of seductive power.
And Qian Renxue… Qian Renxue was a truly captivating while dancing. Her movements were elegant, regal, and so perfectly in tune with the music it was as if she were a part of the song itself.
Zhang Tian just stood there for a moment, watching them, a deep, profound, and almost painful love filling his heart. He looked at the three most beautiful, most powerful, and most desirable women in the world, all dancing for him, for his pleasure. And he knew, with a certainty that was as absolute as the sun in the sky, that he was the luckiest man alive.
He then joined the dance.
He moved with a fluid, confident grace that was a perfect, beautiful complement to their own. He did not choose a single partner. He moved between them, a handsome, powerful sun around which three beautiful, vibrant planets orbited.
He spun with Ning Rongrong, his hand on her slender waist, pulling her close. "Having fun, my little princess?" he murmured against her ear.
"Mmmph," she purred, her head falling back, a blissful, happy smile on her face. "More than fun. This is perfect."
His other hand, a brazen, possessive thing, found her magnificent, curvaceous ass and gave it a firm, appreciative squeeze. She let out a small, delighted squeal and playfully swatted his chest.
He then released her and moved to Zhu Zhuqing, his hands finding her hips, his body moving in a slow, grinding rhythm against hers. "You are a magnificent dancer, my little cat," he growled, his voice a low, husky purr.
"I have had a very good and naughty teacher," she replied, her voice a breathless, happy sound as her own hands roamed his body, her fingers tracing the hard, chiseled lines of his abs. He leaned in and pressed a long, slow, and incredibly passionate kiss to her neck, his teeth gently grazing her sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pure, delicious excitement through her.
And then, he moved to Qian Renxue.
She was more hesitant, a faint, beautiful blush on her flawless cheeks. She was not used to this kind of casual, playful intimacy. But she did not pull away.
He took her hand, his touch gentle but firm. He spun her around, his arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her flush against his body. He was a perfect gentleman, his movements respectful, but his eyes… his eyes were a different story. They were a hot, possessive fire that made her skin burn.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "You are beautiful when you dance, Renxue," he whispered, his voice a low, intimate sound that was for her alone. His free hand, as if by accident, brushed against the exposed skin of her midriff, his fingers a feather-light caress against her navel.
A sharp, electric jolt shot through her, so intense it made her knees weak. She let out a small, involuntary gasp, a sound she had never made before in her life.
He just smiled, a slow, knowing expression, and spun her back out into the dance.
It was during a slow, quiet interlude in the music, as the four of them moved in a gentle, harmonious circle, that Qian Renxue finally found her voice.
"Why did you do this today, Zhang Tian," she said, her voice a low, serious murmur. "To provoke that Dai Mubai in such a way. To make such a wager. Why?"
He just chuckled, a low, warm sound. "I was curious," he said simply. "I wanted to test something. I wanted to see how far they would go to protect their own. And I wanted to see how he," he added, his voice dropping, a new, colder edge to it, "how Tang San would react."
"It was never about Dai Mubai," he explained, his voice a low, analytical murmur as he spun with Ning Rongrong once more. "He is an idiot. A pawn. The true target was, and always will be, Tang San. Not just to him, but to the powers that stand behind him like his father Tang Hao."
His hand slid down Ning Rongrong's back, coming to rest on the magnificent, round curve of her ass. He gave it a firm, playful smack. She yelped, a surprised, delighted sound.
"You wanted to see if the Clear Sky Sect, and the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, would react?" Qian Renxue asked, her sharp, analytical mind immediately grasping the true, strategic nature of his game.
"Exactly," he said, now moving to Zhu Zhuqing, his hands finding the magnificent, heavy globes of her breasts, his thumbs gently teasing her hard, erect nipples through the thin fabric of her top. She moaned, a low, guttural sound of pure, carnal pleasure.
"This tournament," he continued, his voice a low, serious sound, "is not just a game. It is a battlefield. A place where the future of the continent will be decided. I needed to know the rules of engagement. I needed to see how far our enemies would be willing to go to protect their chosen champion."
Qian Renxue fell silent for a moment, her mind a whirlwind of new, complex calculations.
"Even with their new alliance, even with the full might of their two great sects… you do not need to fear their retaliation, right?" she said, her voice a low, questioning sound.
She looked at him, and her eyes were shining with a new, profound admiration. "The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect… it is stronger than the world knows, isn't it? The five Titled Douluos that are publicly known… that is not the true number, is it? It is closer to seven. Perhaps even eight."
Zhang Tian just smiled, a slow, enigmatic expression. He moved to her, his hands finding her slender waist, pulling her into a slow, intimate waltz. "You should not underestimate our enemies, Renxue," he said, his voice a low, cautionary sound.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. "Do not forget what happened a year ago. Your two grandfathers, the Azure Luan and the Mighty Lion, two Level 97 Super Douluos… they were defeated. Injured. By a single, Level 95 man. By Tang Hao."
He pulled back, his gaze direct and piercing. "And he is not even the strongest of his clan. His elder brother, Tang Xiao, the man who now leads the Clear Sky Sect… his power is no less than his younger brother's. And his mastery over the self-created spirit skills of his sect must have advanced even that of Tang Hao."
He spun her around, his hand sliding down her back, coming to rest on the magnificent, perfect curve of her ass. He gave it a firm, possessive squeeze. She let out a small, shocked gasp, her body tensing for a moment before relaxing into his touch.
"And the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan," he continued, his voice a low, serious murmur. "You saw the spirit bones they acquired. In a few short weeks, they will have a new army of Titled Douluos. They will be a force to be reckoned with."
"But if they were to move against you," Qian Renxue said, her own voice a low, fierce promise, "if they were to truly threaten the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect… I would not stand by. I would go to my own grandfathers. I would go to the Elder Hall. I would bring the full might of the Spirit Hall down upon them."
"And that," Zhang Tian said, his voice a quiet, somber sound, "is what I am most afraid of."
He looked at her, and his eyes were filled with a strange, almost sad, light. "Because if you were to do that, if the Spirit Hall and the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect were to unite and push the Clear Sky Sect to the brink of extinction… you might just awaken a monster that has been trapped for a very, very long time."
"A monster?" she asked, a flicker of confusion in her violet eyes.
"Tang Chen," he said, the name a quiet, heavy stone in the sunlit courtyard. "The old Sect Leader of the Clear Sky Sect. The man they called the Peerless on the Land. A Level 99 Limit Douluo. A man whose power is the equal of your own grandfather's. Perhaps even greater."
"But he is gone," she said, her voice a low, disbelieving whisper. "He has been missing for decades. Most believe he is dead."
"He is not dead," Zhang Tian said, his voice a quiet, final, and utterly certain sound. "He is… trapped. And if his clan, his legacy, were to be truly threatened… there is a chance, a small but very real chance, that he might break free. And if he were to return to this world… even the full might of your Spirit Hall, even your grandfather himself, would not be enough to stop him. The Clear Sky Sect would not just be restored; together with the Spirit Hall, they would be undisputed co-rulers of this continent."
He finished speaking, and the music from the Speaker seemed to fade into a distant, melancholic echo.
~~
A/N: Check out my other novels like "Douluo Dalu: Time Travel", "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