Dead Dog?

Li Lang's curiosity was piqued. "Come on, let's go take a look!"

"A 'spectacle' that makes so many people cover their noses while craning their necks to watch has to be worth seeing. We can tell the brothers about it when we get back!"

Relying on their Soul Master physiques and status, the two of them exerted a little force and squeezed through the outer ring of onlookers.

When their gazes finally pierced through the wall of people and they clearly saw the "thing" wriggling slightly inside the tattered sack at the center of the circle, both of them froze.

Their faces instantly filled with shock and... indescribable disgust.

It barely still looked human.

He had been stuffed haphazardly into a ragged sack that reeked intensely of stale sourness. Only his head was exposed, caked in filth, his hair matted into clumps, his original features impossible to make out.

As well as half of one bare shoulder, covered in suspicious bruises, red marks, and some unknown viscous fluid.

The suffocating stench was coming from his body—like a slop bucket left fermenting for ten days, mixed with the pungent sour smell of sweat and some indescribable fishy, musky odor.

His eyes were hollow and numb. His body occasionally twitched uncontrollably, while intermittent, meaningless wheezing noises came from his throat, like a broken bellows.

Suppressing the bile surging up his throat, Li Lang frowned and narrowed his eyes as he carefully studied that filth-covered face. "Hiss... this guy... this face... haven't we seen him somewhere before?"

"He looks kind of familiar..."

Zhang Huan leaned closer as well, holding his breath as he stared for several seconds. Then realization dawned on him, and his face immediately filled with undisguised contempt and gloating. "Oh my! Good heavens!"

"Isn't this that street performer who shamelessly pestered Miss yesterday, calling himself a 'Grandmaster of Martial Soul Theory'?"

"What was he called... some Grandmaster?"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... now this is something you don't see every day!"

"How did this 'Grandmaster' end up in such a state after just one night?"

"Did he... did he fall into a cesspit and soak there overnight?"

"Or did some enemy mistake him for trash and dump him here?" His voice was not quiet, and it clearly carried to the people behind them.

The two exchanged astonished looks, clicking their tongues, and were about to squeeze out of the crowd to report back to Bibi Dong.

Just then, the heavy gates of the Spirit Arena were forcefully shoved open from within with a loud clatter.

Francis, the Spirit Arena's manager, strode out with several neatly uniformed staff members, his face full of "anxiety" and "shock."

"Move aside! Move aside! What are you all gathered here for?"

"Disperse already! Don't block the Spirit Arena from doing business!" Francis waved his hands, loudly driving the crowd away.

Yet the gleam of delighted excitement he was desperately suppressing on his face could not escape the eyes of anyone paying attention.

He hurried to the center of the circle and lowered his head to see Yu Xiaogang wriggling inside the sack, reeking of filth.

He immediately drew in a dramatic sharp breath, his voice abruptly rising several octaves, brimming with "disbelief" and "deep concern."

"Oh, my! Heavens! Isn't this the honored guest of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Sect?!"

"Grandmaster Yu! Grandmaster Yu!"

"You... you... how did you end up... in such a state?!"

"This... this... it's simply tragic! Damn it all! Which utterly heartless bastard did this?!"

"Could it be... could it be that you encountered some... perverted criminal with 'special tastes'?!"

He deliberately emphasized the words "special tastes," while his eyes "inadvertently" flicked toward the unsightly bruises and suspicious slime on Yu Xiaogang's exposed shoulder.

The implication was so thick it practically overflowed.

"Shut... shut up!!" Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, Yu Xiaogang forced out a hoarse, despairing roar from deep in his throat. The shame and fury overwhelmed his numbed nerves in an instant.

What little reason he had left told him that he had to escape this hell that made death seem preferable to life—immediately, at once!

He struggled with all his strength, writhing madly inside the tattered sack like a dying maggot. "Quick... take me away! Immediately! Get me out of here!!!"

His voice was hoarse and distorted, filled with the sobbing tone of total collapse.

"Yes, yes, yes! This humble one understands! I understand!" Francis hurriedly nodded and bowed, his face piled with an ingratiating smile so false it was almost grotesque, then gave his subordinates a look.

"Quick, quick, quick! What are you idiots standing around for?!"

"Hurry up and carefully 'help' Grandmaster Yu up! Gently! Gently! Don't hurt our honored guest!"

As he issued orders, he asked with great "consideration," at a volume everyone around them could clearly hear.

"Grandmaster, you... you've been frightened, and... ah... overly exhausted. This humble one has prepared some fine 'calming and vitality-restoring soup' in the Spirit Arena... Oh, right,"

As if suddenly recalling something, his tone became even more "thoughtful." "Look at you... your clothes are in disarray..."

"Would you perhaps need... ah... some new 'clever and obedient' 'male attendants' to serve you while you bathe and change?

"I guarantee I'll find you the cleanest ones, the best at serving people! You'll definitely be satisfied!"

"Pfft—"

"Hahahaha!"

"Oh my, Manager Francis, you're really so 'thoughtful'!"

"Hahaha, special tastes? Male attendants? Serving him? Hahaha!"

Francis's "concern," which only added fuel to the flames, was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly detonating the long-suppressed laughter of the crowd!

A world-shaking wave of mockery soared upwards, filled with naked malice, undisguised contempt, and a morbid thrill of voyeuristic curiosity.

Yu Xiaogang's body trembled violently inside the tattered sack, not from cold, but from the overwhelming humiliation that was enough to burn his very soul to ashes!

And the bone-deep hatred that clung to him like maggots on a corpse!

He clenched his teeth so hard his gums nearly shattered, seeping with salty, fishy blood!

His fingernails dug deep into his palms, leaving bloody crescent-shaped marks!

He shut his eyes tightly, as if trying to isolate himself from this world filled with malice.

Yet the piercing laughter around him, Francis's vicious words that stabbed straight into his heart, and the countless gazes carving into his soul like poisoned blades—

All became the most vicious brands, deeply and permanently seared into the very depths of his bones!

"The humiliation of today, I, Yu Xiaogang, will repay a hundredfold someday!"

"Black-Clothed Protector! Francis! And everyone who mocked me! Just wait!"

"I will use my theory to stand at the peak of the continent!"

"I will make all of you kneel at my feet like dogs, wagging your tails and begging for mercy, unable to live and unable to die!!"

A twisted, crazed vow steeped in endless resentment grew wildly within the lake of his heart as he teetered on the verge of collapse, swelling into the sole force sustaining his will to live.

Not far away, with Zhang Huan and Li Lang giving a vivid "live commentary," Bibi Dong had also roughly figured out who the protagonist of that unbearable scene was.