Yu Xiaogang froze for a moment—and before he could even react, it felt as if a thousand-pound weight had dropped onto his shoulders.
There was a muffled thud. His arms and legs flew up as his body slammed down, chest-first, into the marble floor. The impact sent cracks spidering out across the stone and kicked up a cloud of dust.
Yu Xiaogang lay there coughing up blood, his chest feeling like it had been torn open. It took him a long moment to catch his breath. "Are you out of your mind?" he finally managed to say.
"How dare you." Hu Liena's voice cracked like a whip, and without so much as a twitch of her hand, the pressure crushing down on him doubled. His body sank further into the floor until only half his face remained visible above the rubble.
"I am Hu Liena, sole disciple of the reigning Pope and Holy Maiden of Spirit Hall. Even a Title Douluo wouldn't dare speak to me with such insolence. I'll give you one more chance—state your business."
There's a saying: before the heavens destroy a man, they first make him lose his mind. When Yu Xiaogang had first swaggered into the Papal Palace, he'd been arrogant, dismissive of everyone around him, riding high on the strength of his Papal Token. Now he lay pinned to the ground like a dog with a broken spine, unable to so much as twitch. He was nothing more than a Great Soul Master—no match at all for the terrifying, unfathomable pressure that Hu Liena had just unleashed on him.
"I hold the Papal Token! I'm an honorary elder of Spirit Hall! You can't do this to me!"
Yu Xiaogang forced a thread of soul power through his battered body, wrenched the token free from his storage soul tool, and thrust it into the air with a shout.
Hu Liena merely raised a hand. The token tore itself free from the wreckage and flew straight into her palm.
"It's a genuine papal decree, I'll give you that." She turned it over, examining it. "But I don't recall it ever being granted to a Great Soul Master—certainly not one as forgettable as you." She raised her voice. "Guards!"
Two fully armored paladins strode in, spears in hand, and dropped to one knee. "Your Highness."
"This man had the gall to speak His Holiness's name aloud and pose as an honorary elder of Spirit Hall." A cold, mocking smile played across Hu Liena's beautiful face. "Throw him in Avici Hell. Let him learn some manners."
Avici Hell.
The two knights stiffened, a shiver running down their spines. As paladins of the Papal Palace, they knew exactly what that name meant—there was no exaggeration in calling it the most feared prison in the world.
Without another word, they hauled Yu Xiaogang up—limp as a corpse—and dragged him toward the entrance.
Avici Hell sat in a forsaken corner of Spirit City, well removed from the twin holy grounds of the Papal Palace and Douluo Palace. Built thirty-one years earlier, it was said to have been commissioned by Pope Bibi Dong herself, back in her days as the Saintess, meant to house those who slandered Spirit Hall, committed assault against women, or trafficked in human lives.
The building itself was a squat, gray, barrel-shaped structure, its outer walls flaking and stained with age. Combined with the towering perimeter wall surrounding it, the whole place radiated a suffocating sense of dread.
When the massive iron gate groaned open, the prison beyond looked like a bottomless maw waiting to swallow him whole—the kind of place a man entered and never left. Even through the fog of terror Hu Liena's presence had left in him, Yu Xiaogang felt an icy chill crawl up his spine. A man of his standing, about to be locked away like a common criminal.
Painted on the walls in fresh red letters, as if applied only recently, were the words: CONFESS AND BE SHOWN MERCY. RESIST AND BE PUNISHED WITHOUT MERCY. Yu Xiaogang's face went white, then flushed red as he stared at the characters. All he'd done was say the name "Bibi Dong"—and for that, Hu Liena had crushed him underfoot like a stray dog and dragged him here in a daze. Confess to what, exactly?
Still, the encounter hadn't been a total loss. He'd gotten a taste of Hu Liena's strength, and it was terrifying—genuinely terrifying. Standing before her had felt uncomfortably similar to standing before Xiao Se two years ago. If this kept up, his disciple's odds of winning were slim to none. He needed to get word out somehow, so Tang San could start working on a countermeasure.
"Come on, brother, how long do you plan on keeping me here?" Yu Xiaogang asked weakly, sagging between the two guards dragging him along.
"Who're you calling brother? Don't try anything cute in here—you're the one who'll end up regretting it. Our fists don't play nice." The two jailers, one gripping each arm, hauled him toward the housing block Yu Xiaogang already despised on sight.
One heavy door after another groaned open ahead of him, each one releasing a fresh wave of stomach-turning stench. The deeper they went, the darker and more oppressive the air became, the sickly yellow light in the corridors somehow making everything feel colder.
"Boss, word is this old guy's a VIP." One of the jailers, his face dotted with freckles, flashed a toothy, oily grin at the man walking ahead of them. "Should we give him the special treatment? Wouldn't want to be rude to a guest in a place like this."
Yu Xiaogang's stomach dropped. He'd never set foot in a prison before in his life, but he was fairly certain "special treatment" from these two wasn't something to look forward to.
The lead jailer stopped, turned, and let out a booming laugh. "You little bastard, you've got some nerve! Fine—since the higher-ups made a point of it, let's not disappoint. Put him in cell eleven."
Cell eleven?
The number alone sent a fresh wave of dread crawling through him.
Under the leering stares of the guards, Yu Xiaogang was shoved into a cell already packed with a dozen or so hulking men.
"Enjoy your stay, old timer," the head jailer called out as he swung the iron door shut. "Behave yourself, or you'll be rotting in there for the rest of your natural life."
Clang. Click. The heavy locks slid home one after another, the sound grinding against his nerves like teeth on metal. Once you were in, getting out again was like trying to claw your way up from the bottom of the ocean.
Yu Xiaogang swallowed hard, eyeing the hungry looks on the faces of his new "friends."
"W-what do you all want?"
—
Meanwhile, disguised as Crown Prince Xue Qinghe, Qian Renxue led fifteen delegations from the Heavenly Dou Empire toward Spirit City, representing Xue Ye as its official envoy.
"Xiao Wu, we're nearly at Spirit City—why the long face?" Ning Rongrong glanced over from where she sat in the carriage, taking in the imposing skyline of Spirit City rising in the distance through the window.
Xiao Wu's face had gone pale. "It's nothing. Really, it's nothing."
She'd been lucky in the earlier rounds, managing to dodge any Soul Masters above Soul Douluo rank. But this was the final. As the Shrek Academy member with the second-highest soul power after Tang San, there was no way around it—she'd have to fight. And this time, there'd almost certainly be more than one Title Douluo watching from the stands.
What am I supposed to do?
"Xiao Wu, if you're not up for it, you don't have to compete in the later matches," Tang San said gently. "We can still take the championship with the rest of us."
At the word championship, the mood inside the carriage soured instantly. Of the group, only he and Xiao Wu had reached Soul Grandmaster rank and made it this far. Shrek had already given everything they had—winning the title now seemed like an impossible dream.
"If only Teacher were here," Tang San murmured, gazing out the window with a quiet sigh. "With him, maybe we'd actually stand a chance." He stopped mid-thought, his eyes catching on a streak of golden light cutting fast across the distant horizon.
"That's…"
(End of Chapter)
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