Chapter 53 – The Broken Hammer and the Void's Horizon
Tang Hao knelt in the dust, his breath coming in ragged, bloody hitches. The words of Yue Guan–calling him a relic–stung worse than the shattered ribs. He looked at his hands, the hands that had held the most feared hammer in history, and felt them trembling.
"Legacy..." Tang Hao hissed, his eyes turning a frenzied, bloodshot red. "The Clear Sky... does not... bow!"
He thought of his grandfather, Tang Chen. He thought of the glory of the Sect that stood above even the Spirit Hall. To lose here, to a "sissy" like Yue Guan, was to spit on the graves of his ancestors.
"Sumeru Hammer: Nine-Ring Absolute Detonation!"
The air screamed. All nine of Tang Hao's spirit rings—from the first yellow to the final, bloody red—exploded simultaneously. The energy didn't just radiate; it formed a pillar of black and red light that reached the clouds. This was a suicidal amount of power, a force that should have leveled the mountain range.
Yue Guan felt the pressure, his own long hair whipping in the gale. "Still stubborn, Hao-tian? You would burn your soul just to save your ego?"
"Die!" Tang Hao roared, throwing the hammer with every ounce of his life force.
"Eight-Gate Overdrive: x15 Detonation."
Yue Guan's aura shifted from crimson to a blinding, vibrating violet. He didn't use a soul skill. He used the Diamond Glide to enter the "Zero-Space" of the hammer's trajectory. He moved so fast that the exploding energy of Tang Hao's rings seemed to freeze in time.
Yue Guan appeared in the center of Tang Hao's guard. He didn't punch; he used a Gunting strike to the base of Tang Hao's throat followed by a palm thrust to the solar plexus.
The impact was silent. The "Overdrive" energy bypassed Tang Hao's external armor and vibrated his internal organs at a frequency they couldn't sustain. The black pillar of the Sumeru Hammer flickered and died. Tang Hao fell like a stone, the rings of his soul shattered and dim.
"Go," Yue Guan said, his voice cold and devoid of his usual flair. "You are not even a challenge anymore. You are a ghost. Live in your shack, Tang Hao. The era of the Hammer is over."
Tang Hao crawled away into the darkness of the forest, his body screaming in agony. His mind was a chaotic mess of denial.
"I am injured," he told himself, his fingers digging into the dirt. "Yes... the old wounds from Qian Daoliu. My meridians were already blocked. If I were at my peak... if I weren't poisoned by the years of hiding... that flower freak would be dust. It wasn't my Sect's failure. It was my body's betrayal."
He found Yu Scumgang, Flender, and Erlong waiting at the forest's edge. Seeing the "God of War" returning covered in blood and limping, the trio felt their hearts drop into their stomachs.
"Your Majesty!" Scumgang gasped. "Did... did you get the herbs?"
"The Spirit Hall has set a trap," Tang Hao lied, his voice gravelly. "I am... still hampered by my old injuries. I cannot exert my full strength without risking the Sect's future."
He looked at Scumgang with a desperate intensity. "Teach my son. Tell him... tell him the Spirit Hall killed his mother. But do not tell him of today. Tell him I am waiting for him at the peak."
Tang Hao didn't find Tang San. He couldn't face the boy while looking like a beaten dog. He left a coded message with Scumgang and vanished into the mountains, seeking a hidden hermit he knew who could perhaps mend his broken foundation. He left Tang San in the hands of a "Grandmaster" who was now drowning in his own despair.
Yu Scumgang sat in his office at the New Shrek Academy, staring at a blank wall. The logic of his life was falling apart. If the "Number One Martial Soul" and the "Greatest Genius" Tang Hao could be dismantled by a mere Elder of the Spirit Hall, then everything he had written—his "Ten Core Competencies"—was garbage.
"They have a secret," Scumgang whispered, his eyes wild. "A technique that ignores the rings. If I cannot find it... I must find something else. The Blue Lightning Tyrant Clan... they have ancient scrolls. Or perhaps... the dark arts of the Slaughter City?"
His greed for the Rank 30 breakthrough had turned into a dark, obsessive hunger. He began to plan a trip back to his clan, not as a prodigal son, but as a thief seeking power at any cost.
Two Years Later
The sun rose over Wuhun City, illuminating the towering spires of the Supreme Pontiff's Palace.
Lakan, now 14 years old, stood on the balcony of the Starry Pavilion. He was taller now, his shoulders broader, his obsidian tattoos pulsing with a faint, rhythmic silver light. He wore a high-collared white robe with gold trim, the symbol of the Sovereign embroidered on his back.
His cultivation sat at Rank 69. He had deliberately slowed his growth, refusing to take a seventh ring until his Void-Motion Pulse was integrated into every cell of his body. He was a compressed spring of divine energy—a master who could move mountains without a single soul skill.
Beside him stood Shui Bing'er. Over the last two years, their bond had transcended mere teamwork. Their Martial Soul Fusion: Symphony of the Scorching Frost was no longer a technique; it was a natural state of being.
"The invitations have been sent," Bing'er said, her voice like a cool breeze. "The Shrek team has registered. Tang San has reached the Spirit Ancestor rank. They call him the 'Greatest Genius of the Empire.'"
Lakan let out a soft, amused chuckle. He looked toward the horizon, where the distant carriages of the various academies were beginning to arrive for the Elite Academy Soul Master Competition.
"The 'Greatest Genius'..." Lakan repeated, his silver eyes flashing with a void-black ring. "Let them enjoy the title for the opening ceremony. By the time the finals are over, the world will realize that there are no 'Monsters.' There is only the Sky... and the things that crawl beneath it."
"Let's go, Bing'er. The tournament is waiting for its King."