The messenger Disciple's sobbing cry echoed again and again through the great hall.
Every Elder froze in place. Even Liu Erlong—who had just been restrained—forgot to struggle entirely.
Yu Yuanzhen stood there, unmoving, as if he hadn't fully processed the meaning of those words.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
"What did you say?!"
Boom!
A thunderous roar exploded from Yu Yuanzhen's throat!
His body shot upright like a powder keg touched by flame. The terrifying Dragon Might he had barely restrained burst forth without reservation, sweeping through the deliberation hall like a tangible shockwave!
This time, it wasn't tables that shattered.
It was the floor beneath his feet.
Crack!
Stone tiles split apart in spiderweb patterns, radiating outward from where he stood.
"All dead?!"
Yu Yuanzhen's massive frame trembled violently with barely contained rage. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared down at the Disciple, who was so frightened his legs nearly gave out.
"Three Spirit Saints! Thirty high-level Spirit Kings!"
"You're telling me… they're all dead?!"
Each word reeked of blood, ground out from between clenched teeth.
Spirit Saints!
How many Spirit Saints existed across the entire Douluo Continent?
They were the backbone of any great Sect—the true pillars that held everything upright!
Even for the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect, nurturing a single Spirit Saint required enormous time, resources, and luck.
And now?
Three were gone in one stroke.
And those thirty high-level Spirit Kings—guaranteed future Spirit Emperors, some even destined to reach Spirit Saint!
This wasn't just bleeding.
This was carving flesh straight off the Sect's bones.
Yu Yuanzhen's vision swam. His chest burned. For a moment, he nearly spat out a mouthful of old blood.
Before he could continue—
"Ah—!"
A piercing scream rang out.
Liu Erlong suddenly tore free from the guards like a mad lioness and lunged straight at the Disciple.
She grabbed his collar with both hands and shook him violently, her strength bordering on hysterical.
"What about Xiaogang?!"
"Tell me! What happened to my Xiaogang?!"
"Is he alive?!"
In her eyes, there were no fallen Elders, no shattered foundations, no catastrophic losses to the Sect.
There was only Yu Xiaogang.
The Disciple was shaken until his vision spun, his neck creaking ominously. Terrified, he forced the words out.
"We… we didn't see Yu Xiaogang's body…"
"There was only an empty prison cart…"
"He… he might've been taken away by the attackers… or… or escaped on his own…"
The moment the words fell—
Liu Erlong stopped shaking him.
Her hands slackened.
Her knees buckled.
She collapsed onto the floor as if all strength had been drained from her body.
On her face—twisted moments earlier by despair—appeared a trace of fragile relief, like someone who had narrowly survived death.
"Not dead…"
"That's good… Xiaogang isn't dead…"
Yu Yuanzhen nearly exploded on the spot.
At a time like this—after such devastating losses—she was still clinging to that worthless man?!
"Get out!"
"You're an eyesore!"
With a casual sweep of his hand, an invisible wave of spirit power slammed into Liu Erlong, sending her rolling aside like an unwanted object.
He didn't even look at her again.
His blood-red gaze locked back onto the Disciple, his voice dropping into glacial calm.
"Have you identified the killer?"
The Disciple shook violently, his head snapping back and forth.
"N-no…"
"The bodies… they were all pierced by countless small sharp weapons…"
His voice rose in terror.
"And… they were killed in a single strike! None of them even showed signs of resisting!"
"Sharp weapons?"
Yu Yuanzhen's breathing halted.
He stared at the trembling Disciple, repeating slowly, deliberately:
"Many… small sharp weapons?"
Silence.
Dead silence.
The entire hall felt as though it had been filled with molten lead.
Killed in one blow.
No resistance.
Three Spirit Saints and thirty Spirit Kings—cut down like wheat in a field.
Only a handful of existences on the entire continent could accomplish such a thing.
And those countless sharp, petal-like weapons…
The signature was unmistakable.
A seductive figure.
A playful smile.
A golden chrysanthemum blooming with lethal beauty.
Yu Yuanzhen's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
His teeth ground audibly, each word soaked in blood.
"Golden stamens flowing with rosy clouds…"
"Chrysanthemum… Douluo!"
A trap.
A perfect, merciless trap.
That bitch had deliberately leaked the escort route, fully aware he would send people to rescue that rebellious son.
Then she had Yue Guan lie in wait—like a patient hunter—until their elites walked straight into the snare.
Kill them.
Cripple the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect.
How ruthless.
How venomous!
He—Yu Yuanzhen, Sect Master of the Upper Three Sects—had been played like a fool by a woman!
He had personally delivered his Sect's sharpest blade into her waiting hands.
Shame.
Unprecedented humiliation.
"Spirit Hall!"
Lightning erupted around Yu Yuanzhen as he let out a beast-like roar and turned to charge toward the exit.
"I'll go to the Supreme Pontiff Palace right now and kill that bitch!"
"Big Brother!"
Yu Luomian flashed forward, blocking his path.
"If you go now, you're walking exactly where she wants you to!"
Yu Yuanzhen shoved him aside, eyes blazing.
"Move!"
"So many of our people are dead! How can I calm down?!"
"And what about the Sect?!" Yu Luomian snapped back, refusing to retreat.
"The news of thirty-three elite deaths will spread by tonight! Morale will collapse!"
"If you charge into Spirit Hall in this state, do you want the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect erased from the Upper Three Sects today?!"
The words hit like a bucket of ice water.
Yu Yuanzhen's steps halted abruptly.
His chest heaved violently, rage still boiling so fiercely his organs ached.
"So you're telling me to swallow this?!"
"To pretend nothing happened?!"
"We endure—but not blindly."
Yu Luomian's voice was cold, controlled.
"Revenge requires a mind."
He paused, then said slowly:
"Tomorrow, we go to Spirit Hall."
"For what?" Yu Yuanzhen sneered bitterly. "To beg Bibi Dong for mercy?"
"No."
Yu Luomian shook his head.
"We go publicly."
"We demand Yu Xiaogang back."
Yu Yuanzhen froze.
Then he laughed—raw, furious laughter.
"After losing thirty-plus elites, I still have to lower myself and ask that woman for the son she despises?"
"Yu Luomian—have you gone insane?!"
Yu Luomian met his gaze without flinching.
"Big Brother."
"You're not going."
"I am."