"Chrysanthemum, are you alright!?"
The cold, shadowed figure of Ghost Douluo flickered into existence beside Yue Guan not long after Tang Hao's devastating strike. His gaze never left the blood-red hammer wielder looming overhead, his whole body filled with dread.
Horrifying.
How could Tang Hao still be this strong, even after all these years? Even after clashing head-on with Yue Guan's ninth ability, he was still standing, his murderous aura climbing higher and higher.
Coughing, Yue Guan staggered to his feet. His voice rasped, hoarse with pain. "I… can't die… just yet."
Had it not been for Ghost Douluo's interference, Tang Hao's hammer would have crushed more than bones—it would have ended him outright.
"Old ghost," Yue Guan growled, locking eyes with his partner-in-arms.
Without speaking, both understood.
"The Polar Realm—fusion skill!"
In unison, their nine rings blazed, spirit light merging together as the combined aura began to swell. Their Martial Soul fusion technique—their greatest trump card—unfurled between them.
But before the domain could fully rise…
A shriek split the air as the dark red hammer blurred through the sky.
Tang Hao's Clear Sky Hammer smashed down like a god's judgment, cutting their synchronization short, blasting apart the budding technique.
"Child's play!" Tang Hao spat hatefully. "Yue Guan, Ghost—you still haven't grown after all these years!"
The Martial Soul fusion technique of Ghost and Chrysanthemum had long been no secret on the continent. Tang Hao, prepared for it, crushed it without hesitation.
He gripped the hammer tighter, his body surging with raw steel-like power. The hammer spun in his hands.
"Chaos Cloak Hammer Technique!"
Each swing fueled the next. The massive hammer blurred as Tang Hao spun through the air, wind exploding outward in vicious arcs. Storm currents swept through half of Martial Soul City—turbulent gales twisting into four roaring tornadoes of destructive force, tearing apart homes and streets alike.
"Gulp…"
Ghost Douluo swallowed audibly.
Looking at Tang Hao, this wild, rampaging titan, even he began to waver. With power like this, how could Yue Guan expect him to believe Tang Hao hadn't abducted his wife?
It was madness.
And then—
"Bold Tang Hao! How dare you run wild in Martial Soul City!!"
A majestic, imperious female voice rang out, loud enough to suppress even the winds.
Yue Guan and Ghost both exhaled sharply in relief.
Saved!
From the sky descended a dazzling figure clad in purple-gold robes, her beauty formidable and her aura terrifying. Ring after spirit ring unfurled beneath her feet, each one glowing richer, darker, culminating in a deep blood-red ninth ring.
Bibi Dong. The Pope herself.
Tang Hao's glare shifted to her. "Bibi Dong! Ah Yin is nothing but an ordinary Blue Silver Grass—she has no use for you. Isn't it enough that you want me dead? Let her go. Take me instead!"
He knew it. He wasn't foolish. In the heart of Martial Soul City, against so many Title Douluo, against the Pope herself—he had no chance of victory.
But if his plea could buy even the smallest chance for Ah Yin, he would throw his life away willingly.
Bibi Dong raised a perfect brow. Confusion flickered across her face.
…Ah Yin?
The Blue Silver Emperor that had once sacrificed herself for Tang Hao, over ten years ago? But she had already given everything in her sacrifice. What was he on about?
Perplexed, her eyes slid toward Yue Guan.
He blinked furiously, shaking his head so hard it nearly rattled loose. "Under the Pope's crown—I don't know anything!" His voice cracked. This time, he wasn't lying. He really, truly had no idea.
To his infinite frustration, Tang Hao had simply appeared and screamed accusations about his abducted wife!
"Enough," Bibi Dong said coldly. "This matter has nothing to do with our Martial Soul Hall. But Tang Hao—for daring to wreak havoc in Martial Soul City—you cannot leave alive."
Her hand lifted. A horrifying aura surged. With a thrust, eight vast purple spider webs erupted from her spirit power, each soaked in deadly poison and stretched impossibly wide. They shot through the air toward Tang Hao, enclosing him in a suffocating cage.
"Shameless!" Tang Hao roared in fury, the hammer spinning once more.
Web after web shredded under his swings, torn apart by brute force.
His veins bulged, his roars shook the city. "Sky-Breaking Strike!"
He leapt high, raising his dark crimson hammer that had already grown to ten meters in length, and brought it down on Bibi Dong with heaven-shaking might.
"Fourth ability—Thorn Spider Armor!"
Bibi Dong's elegant frame shimmered as a thick chitinous armor enveloped her body, covered in venomous spikes. Her hands locked together to meet the hammer head-on.
Impact!
The world seemed to split. Purple armor cracked. The entire city quaked as the two top existences clashed. Several towering buildings nearby collapsed in the aftermath shockwaves.
The gathered Platinum Bishops gasped, faces pale.
Their Pope… meeting the Clear Sky Hammer with raw strength—head-on?
Had she become as wild as him? An iron-headed madwoman?
But even as they stood reeling, another Bibi Dong appeared behind Tang Hao.
So sharp. So deadly.
"The sixth ability—Blood-Sucking Spider Thorn!!"
In an instant, a long purple-black blade conjured by poison and spirit cut forward, slashing across Tang Hao's shoulder.
Ssss—
The moment it pierced skin, the poison spread. His arm flushed with black-purple corruption, his muscles spasming violently.
Tang Hao gritted his teeth, locking his spirit power to slow the venom's spread. His vision spun for a moment, dizziness clutching him.
Only then did he realize—the Bibi Dong who had caught his hammer was a clone, made real by her eighth ability, Spider Emperor's Clone.
"Dammit!"
Desperate, Tang Hao yelled furiously, his hammer swelling larger still.
This time, when he hurled it—not at Bibi Dong—but toward the Papal Palace itself—Yue Guan and Ghost both cried out in alarm.
Their blood froze.
If the Papal Palace itself was smashed—Martial Soul Hall would be shamed across the entire continent!
And in the trajectory struck, there was no salvation possible… except her.
Bibi Dong's brows knitted sharply. Her body shimmered. Purple aura coiled tightly around her figure.
In a blink, she intercepted the hammer's path.
"BOOM!!!"
A thunderous collision rattled the sky. Her jade-white palm slammed against the dark-red hammer, her body bursting backward under the crushing impact. Yet she held. The hammer stopped.
The Papal Palace stood intact.
Tang Hao caught the recoil, his body trembling, before spitting out fury to mask his retreat.
"Bibi Dong! The Martial Soul Hall stole from me, and I'll reclaim every debt with blood!"
And with that—he vanished.
"Chase him!!" Yue Guan's shrill voice echoed through every corner.
Dozens of Martial Soul Hall powerhouses launched in pursuit. Among them, Yue Guan led with burning zeal, his fury boiling.
That bastard… he had nearly killed him again!
And Tang Hao—injured, poisoned—it was the perfect chance to kill him, to seize his soul bones, to cut him into pieces. Just imagining it made Yue Guan giddy.
…
But after an exhausting hour—
Yue Guan and Ghost returned battered, their faces dark and hollow.
They had failed.
Poisoned and wounded as he was, Tang Hao still overpowered their chase and disappeared. And in the process, many Martial Soul Hall soul masters had fallen.
The air around Yue Guan deflated. "Gan… the soul bone slipped…" he cursed, defeated.
Bibi Dong only gave a soft, cold order:
"Pass the word. Let every branch in every city track Tang Hao's movements. I want him reported the moment he appears."
…
Somewhere deep in the spirit beast forest, Tang Hao stumbled. His once-proud figure dragged against trees, breath rattling. His lips had already turned purple-black from venom, but his eyes—mad, bloodthirsty—still burned.
He could not die.
Not yet.
Not before freeing Ah Yin.
He fell onto a stone slab and sat cross-legged, summoning what little strength remained. Slowly, painstakingly, he pushed his soul power into his poisoned veins.
Bit by bit, the toxins bled away. Half an hour later, he opened his eyes once more. Still pale, but alive.
His whisper trembled.
"A Yin…"
As he looked down, a patch of wild Blue Silver Grass brushed the wind. His chest tightened. Memory, longing, sorrow—they drowned him.
During the earlier clash, when he saw Bibi Dong's and Yue Guan's bewildered reactions, he realized something. Their confusion was too real. They truly didn't know.
Then who—?
Then which bastard had taken Ah Yin?
The two Titled Douluo who captured her… they bore Martial Soul Hall's emblem. Even the Soul King who carried her away had the same ties.
If not Bibi Dong, whose hand guided them?
Could it be… Douluo Palace? Qian Daoliu?
Tang Hao closed his eyes, doubt churning violently.
One thing was certain—even if they personally didn't know, the Martial Soul Hall was still involved. Directly or not, his wife had been stolen by their people.
And until he reclaimed her, Tang Hao's war with them would never, ever end.
--
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