Poison Douluo’s gaze remained fixed on the sky, locked onto the ominous black silhouette slowly descending toward him.
A gust of powerful wind howled through the forest.
A hideous flying creature—something between a wyvern and an armored beast, with grotesquely oversized wings—landed heavily on the ground. Upon its back stood a cloaked man, who leapt down without a sound and walked toward Poison Douluo.
As the man approached, Poison Douluo’s brows furrowed.
There was something familiar about him… a sense, a presence, that echoed the aura of the Third Elder.
“!!”
Poison Douluo’s eyes narrowed sharply.
Could it be that the Clear Sky Clan (Hàotiān Zōng) had realized something was amiss… and sent someone after him?
But how? How could they have moved so quickly?
His expression darkened. This entire situation was already morally ambiguous—he had planned to let the Third Elder die in the Sunset Forest so he could escape cleanly, free of ties.
But if the Clear Sky Clan got involved…
Not even the Heaven Dou Empire could guarantee his safety.
It would be a true death feud.
The cloaked man finally stopped in front of him, lifting his head slowly.
From beneath the shadows of the hood, a weathered and battle-worn face was revealed.
His features were sharp as a blade—each line etched with stories of blood and war.
His eyes were crimson, burning with endless killing intent and sorrow.
Poison Douluo involuntarily shuddered.
Unfightable.
In a single glance, he knew—this man’s strength far surpassed his own. The pressure radiating from him was so heavy it slowed the flow of Poison Douluo’s own soul power.
His breathing quickened under the suffocating weight of it.
From the side, Lin Fan walked over casually, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked at the legendary figure before him—the man once hailed as the greatest talent of the Clear Sky Clan and the youngest ever Titled Douluo on the continent:
Tang Hao.
A strange emotion rose in Lin Fan’s heart.
“I’m supposed to be the main villain here… yet the protagonist’s father has somehow ended up working for me?”
Life was full of twists.
Even more ironic was that Tang San—the protagonist—was now partially possessed by the Broodmind, the sentient hive will of the Zerg, acting as his mysterious ‘mentor’ from within.
“So, Tang Hao serves me… and Tang San serves the Broodmind?”
The thought was almost too surreal. Lin Fan couldn't help but wonder:
“When father and son meet again, what will happen?”
Shaking off the thought, Lin Fan turned toward Poison Douluo, whose face had gone deathly pale.
“Poison Douluo,” Lin Fan said lightly. “Why don’t you spar a bit with my friend here?”
Poison Douluo's voice was stiff.
“Who… are you people?”
Lin Fan chuckled and gestured toward Tang Hao.
“This man was once the unrivaled genius of the Clear Sky Clan. Now? He’s under my command.”
“Surely you’ve heard of him—Tang Hao.”
Poison Douluo’s pupils shrank violently. He stared at the man in front of him, his scalp tingling, every hair on his body standing on end.
The urge to retreat surged to its peak.
Tang Hao—the Clear Sky Douluo.
That name had long become legendary. Whether among the new generation or the veterans of the past, it rang like a thunderclap.
The youngest ever Titled Douluo on the continent.
A man who fought his way through the ranks of the Spirit Hall, hammer by hammer, earning his title through raw bloodshed.
A man who once faced multiple Titled Douluo alone and escaped unscathed.
Afterward, he vanished. The Clear Sky Clan went into seclusion.
And yet… everyone knew:
He was still the strongest living Douluo.
And now, he stood right before him.
His power hadn’t diminished in the slightest. If anything, the killing aura he now radiated was even more terrifying.
“No! Impossible! A man like Tang Hao would never become someone else’s pawn! Especially not some arrogant brat like you! Hahahaha!”
Poison Douluo forced a mocking laugh, clinging to his last shred of pride.
Lin Fan sighed and shook his head.
“Why do people always insist on testing the blade before believing it’s sharp?”
He turned to Tang Hao.
“Ah Hao, show him a little something.”
Tang Hao said nothing. He lowered his head slightly and stepped forward.
HUMMM—!!
A wave of soul pressure erupted, tearing through the forest around them. The sheer force of it sent Poison Douluo’s robes billowing wildly.
Then—
Behind Tang Hao, a colossal black warhammer emerged, soaked in an aura of slaughter.
BOOM!
The Clear Sky Hammer—taller than a man—surged with black lightning and a blood-red glow, releasing an overwhelming spiritual pressure.
Poison Douluo’s face paled.
And then—
HUMMMM—
Nine soul rings rose slowly behind Tang Hao.
Yellow, Yellow, Purple, Purple, Black, Black, Black, Black, Red.
The final red ring pulsed and expanded outward like a tidal wave of power.
“A… a hundred-thousand-year soul ring?!”
Even among Titled Douluo, gaps in power existed.
Poison Douluo had always relied on his poisonous soul techniques. Against most, that was enough—but against a combat-type monster like Tang Hao… and one with a hundred-thousand-year soul ring?
He didn’t stand a chance.
“How am I supposed to fight this?”
His heart sank.
Tang Hao was in his prime, an elite warrior with both talent and experience.
And Poison Douluo?
An aging soul master, long labeled the weakest among Titled Douluo.
He clenched his fists… then slowly relaxed them.
“I surrender.”
The words fell from his lips like lead, bitter and heavy.
He could already see the end coming.
But Lin Fan’s eyes gleamed sharply.
With a soft smile, he asked:
“No need to be so down, Poison Douluo.
Have you ever considered… joining us?”
Poison Douluo looked up slowly, his expression unreadable.
“I’m an old man, already one foot in the grave.
Why would you want someone like me?”
“No, no,” Lin Fan replied with a grin.
“You sell yourself short. That lethal poison of yours—to me, it’s a priceless resource.”
That wiped the smile off Poison Douluo’s face.
This young man—despite his age—was dangerous.
Every word seemed calculated. Every move had purpose.
A deep unease settled in Poison Douluo’s chest.
He wasn’t a fool. He knew the tides of power were changing. Still, he just wanted to live quietly, not get dragged into some mad scheme.
He shook his head and refused.
But Lin Fan’s smile faded.
His eyes grew cold.
“Poison Douluo,” he said softly,
“you wouldn’t want anything to happen to your granddaughter… would you?”
“What did you say?!”
Poison Douluo’s voice rose sharply.
He stared at Lin Fan, eyes glowing with ghostly green light.
Torrents of toxic soul power surged around his body, poisonous mist coiling through the air like vipers. If Lin Fan said one wrong word—he’d be struck down instantly.
But Lin Fan remained calm.
He simply shrugged.
“Everyone knows you’re reclusive and elusive.
What they don’t know… is that you live right here, in the Sunset Forest.
And that you have… a sweet, innocent little granddaughter.”
Poison Douluo’s killing intent surged like a wave.
The air around him turned a venomous green as his spirit power began to spin wildly.
But Lin Fan didn’t flinch.
He just smiled.
****
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