Buzz—
The cramped hut shook as Tang San's needle quivered, a black glow radiating from its point. Toxic mist spread with sinister shimmer, black light as sharp as razors.
Tang San's blue pupils dilated, locking onto the weapon lying across his jade-colored hand. That hand—Xuanyu Hand—one of Tang Sect's secret techniques, trained painstakingly through years of cultivation. Subei's help in evolving his Blue Silver Grass had pushed his Xuan Tian skill further than he'd ever dreamed, yet even now dark toxin stained his palm.
But Tang San did not waver.
The item he held was no ordinary hidden weapon.
The Yama Token.
The third-deadliest weapon in the Tang Sect arsenal. A slip of cold death reputed with one phrase: One strike – all are equal. Even the gods fall to Yama's post.
In mortal Jianghu, its usage was forbidden. Even the strongest Soul Saint would collapse into blood within breaths. Relief or antidote? Impossible—its venom acted faster than thought.
"Whether this succeeds… my teacher's safety depends on it," Tang San whispered.
A Forbidden Resolve
From a carved box he pulled another text, its letters glinting: Detailed Explanations of Xuanyu Hand. He pressed both book and weapon against his chest.
His mind was solemn. His choice rebelled against every law of Tang Sect's ancestors. Tang San once swore to never spread their secrets, never betray their creed. Yet here he was—stealing, repurposing, shaping their legacy to protect someone this world had given him.
That someone: Subei.
"Forgive me, ancestor," Tang San pleaded. "But this is not the Tang Sect's world. My loyalty here belongs to him."
From the moment Subei had smiled at him, Tang San's heart had altered. At first he only sought knowledge and opportunity. Then came admiration. Then the unbearable urge to protect that youth so unfathomably beautiful that even gods might bend.
Now—Tang San would give his life if it meant guarding that smile.
"Teacher," he muttered, "for my father's sins, for Tang Hao's offense, let me atone."
He clenched the needle. He would give Yama's post openly to Subei as a gift. Self-defense. Proof of loyalty. His salvation.
Tang San's Obsession
The dark days of forging nearly killed him. More than once venom nearly consumed his veins. Only his obsessive will kept him alive. Failure after failure, yet his faith held—the faith that one day he could kneel before his teacher and offer the deadliest blade at his chest, not aimed but surrendered, to prove devotion.
Now the weapon was complete.
He staggered out of the hut, sunlight slicing into the darkness. Dust swarmed in the brilliance. His ragged body looked more beast than man, but his trembling hands clutched Yama's post like sacred scripture.
Joy surged. Finally, finally… I can face him again.
But halfway, Tang San froze. His clothes stank of ash, his hair reeked of poison. To meet the teacher like this? To spread stench upon that pure body?
"No." His voice was fierce. "Not until I cleanse myself. I will find fresh robes, wash my body until it gleams—only then may I approach the hall of beauty."
With that, Tang San turned into the forest, muttering like a pilgrim. Only when every blemish was gone would he dare present himself.
Meanwhile, by the Palace Pond
At Shenyan Hall, Subei and Xiao Wu had finished their intimate talk. He now finally understood why few soul beasts reached hundred-thousand years: not just danger, but scarcity of kin. The stronger the blood, the harder to find equal mates. Evolution chained its creatures as much as empowered them.
"Tragic, but fascinating," he mused. "Who else but me would spend evening pondering beast procreation while braiding hair?"
He grinned at Xiao Wu; she puffed in mock frustration but smiled, holding his hand. For her, every moment near him wove comfort into longing.
Their peace broke when Gong Yi entered hurriedly.
"Master," she said, bowing, "a visitor of Tiandou Royal has arrived. Dugu Bo—a Titled Douluo, known as Poison Douluo, insists on seeing you."
"Dugu Bo?" Subei's brow arched. The name alone was heavy.
The First Poison
He explained quickly to the wide-eyed Xiao Wu: "His martial soul is the Green Phosphor Snake Emperor, a draconic venom spirit. Though his rank is merely level ninety-one, his infamy exceeds that. He is called the First Poison Master of the world. Not for duels—but for slaughter. A blade slays one by one. But poison? Poison kills thousands, quietly, unseen. That's why many fear him more than any sword."
Xiao Wu shivered. "Then why is he here? Could he… harm you?"
"No," Subei said thoughtfully. "The Tiandou Empire wouldn't send an assassin—they'd be crushed under Spirit Hall's wrath. This visit is odd. Yet… Gong Yi, you said he brought a girl?"
"Yes. A young maiden with him, demanding audience."
Subei rolled his eyes skyward. "So it begins again. Another fan sister, perhaps."
Xiao Wu bit her lip jealously. "Brother, is it peach blossom again? Will you really see her?"
A gentle pat to her rabbit ears calmed her nerves. "Don't worry. I'll hear him out… poison must not be ignored. If he harbors ill intent, I'd rather face him directly."
Poison Douluo and His Granddaughter
Elsewhere, within a guest hall, Dugu Bo stood tall by the window. His hair shimmered sickly-green, his brows marked with crimson diamond. Age and venom coiled him in aura, yet his gaze was sharp.
Beside him, pacing like a restless cat, stood a fifteen-year-old girl with sleek short purple hair—Dugu Yan. Pretty, almost devilish in her sharp brows, youth glowing in her restless spirit.
"Grandfather, what if he refuses us?" she asked anxiously.
Dugu Bo's brow twitched. "Then so be it. I am royal guest; courtesy should be mutual. But why are you so intent? Do you truly wish to see this so-called boy?"
Between the continent's noise, rumors of Subei filled every corner: women fainting, artists weeping. To Dugu Bo, such gossip was boring. But his granddaughter Yan pestered endlessly. She had to see whether this "Shenyan Hall Lord" could actually enslave hearts through beauty.
Her lips curled in disbelief. "An eight-year-old child? The continent raves because of a child's face? Impossible. At most he might be… cute. Not enough to shake nations. Today, I'll prove this farce false. If I see him and feel nothing, then all of Douluo has lost its mind."
Dugu Bo sighed. His cunning eye had seen many skeptics say the same. And yet, every last one of them, man or woman, cracked after seeing him. His granddaughter… he feared she too would fall.
"Yan'er," he warned gravely, "if your heart slips… you may suffer for life. The boy is surrounded by rivals. Even gods may covet him. Don't involve yourself."
She tapped her foot stubbornly. "Grandpa, please. Even if he's angel-faced, I won't lose myself. My will isn't so weak."
Heaven help you, Dugu Bo thought darkly.
The Revelation
Trumpets sounded. A maid announced softly: "The Hall Lord approaches."
Sunlight fell across the entry; a slender child's figure emerged.
Dugu Yan smirked, arms crossed. "This… is the one? This? Truly, people exaggera—"
Then his face appeared.
The words died instantly.
Her pupils dilated to the limit, her heart quaked as if thunder struck her chest.
Gone was scorn. In its place: awe. Tremor. Suffocation.
The boy's beauty was not merely appearance—it was a force. A divine coercion of aesthetics, bending will. His gaze was soft yet infinite, like stars poured into mortal veins.
Her mind howled. Handsome. Gorgeous. Too much.
Her throat dry, she whispered hoarsely, "Absolutely…" Then stopped, unable to finish, breath ripped away.
Her arrogant doubts shattered entirely.
Dugu Yan felt her heart collapse—and belong—not to herself anymore.
--
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