The three men's Soul Rings simultaneously rose into the air, layering around the divine dragon and emitting a humming resonance.
This was the three men's Martial Soul Fusion Skill—Golden Sacred Dragon!
Bibi Dong stared at the golden divine dragon, her brows furrowing tightly. The impatience in her eyes deepened as she said coldly:
"Heh, overestimating yourselves. Attack!"
Nine Soul Rings simultaneously rose from Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo, interweaving in yellow, purple, and black.
The two were just about to launch their attack when a rough voice rang out above the arena.
"A chrysanthemum and a little ghost—how dare you hurt my son? Get lost!"
Before his voice faded, a Soul Power pressure several times heavier than the combined auras of Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo instantly enveloped the entire arena.
Amid this suffocating pressure, a black figure silently appeared in front of everyone from Blue Tyrant Academy.
The newcomer was a middle-aged man, seemingly in his fifties. He was tall and powerfully built, yet wore a tattered robe covered in patches, making him look somewhat disheveled.
His exposed bronze-colored skin was taut, his muscles knotted like the roots of an ancient tree, concealing explosive strength.
His features had originally been rather proper, but they were now covered by a sickly, waxen pallor. His eyes were half-lidded, carrying a lazy, bleary drowsiness, as if he had just awakened from a deep sleep.
His hair was messily piled atop his head like a bird's nest that had not been tended for years. His full beard was even more disorderly, covering most of his cheeks.
But the instant this figure entered Tang San's sight, his eyes reddened.
Tears spilled out uncontrollably. His throat felt blocked by something, and only after a long while did he manage to force out two words:
"Dad...