Father and Son Reunite, but There Was No Warmth-Only Tragedy
On the gravel road, Tang San followed closely behind Yu Xiaogang.
He was unaware of the hushed whispers circulating on the Training Ground behind him.
I just feel that the irritability in my heart is getting heavier and heavier.
At this moment, Tang San's mind was filled with all sorts of strange phenomena related to his Martial Soul.
He followed behind Yu Xiaogang, walking along the path in the Academy.
He knew this road well; it led to the teachers' dormitory area.
A row of short pines grew on both sides of the road, their needles rustling in the wind, and occasionally a few withered yellow needles would drift down and brush past his shoulder.
After walking halfway, he finally couldn't help but speak up.
"Teacher, what do you want to see me about?"
There was a hint of urgency in his voice.
Yu Xiaogang neither stopped nor looked back.
"You'll find out when you go in."
He only said that one sentence, his tone completely calm and undisturbed.
Tang San opened his mouth, wanting to ask more questions, but seeing the Grandmaster's unyielding attitude, he swallowed back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
Suppressing my doubts, I followed silently behind.
The teachers' dormitory area was quiet, with rows of stone houses neatly arranged, their walls covered with dark green vines whose leaves rustled gently in the wind.
Yu Xiaogang's dormitory was in the innermost row; it was a small, detached stone house.
Yu Xiaogang stopped in front of the door and pushed it open.
"Click!"
The wooden door opened with a dull thud.
Tang San stood behind Yu Xiaogang. Before he could even see the furnishings in the room, he smelled a faint scent of herbs mixed with the aroma of old wood.
Then his gaze fixed.
A figure sat in a chair.
It was a person wearing a black cloak.
The hood of the cloak was not pulled up, revealing a face that Tang San knew all too well.
His face was covered in stubble, his jawline was sharply defined, and he had deep, calm eyes.
Those eyes were silently watching him, their gaze filled with a complex emotion that Tang San had never seen before.
The man sat in a chair, his black robe wrapped tightly around him, but even through the fabric, the outline of his broad shoulders and back was still visible.
Tang San froze at the doorway, as if struck by lightning.
He recognized the face.
He had seen this face in his dreams several times.
After leaving Holy Soul Village, he repeatedly sketched every detail of that face in his mind.
The curve of the brow bone, the distribution of the stubble, and the faint lines at the corner of the mouth.
I'm afraid they'll fade over time.
But now this person is sitting right in front of him, alive and real.
"Dad?"
Tang San's voice trembled noticeably.
When those two words were squeezed out of his throat, even he himself could hardly believe it.
It felt like a dream, or a scene only possible in a dream.
Tang Hao sat in a chair, looking at his son by the door.
His gaze swept over Tang San's face inch by inch, as if he were carefully discerning something.
Then, a smile slowly crept onto his lips.
The smile was faint, even somewhat stiff, as if someone who hadn't smiled in a long time was trying hard to move their facial muscles.
But there was an indescribable sense of satisfaction in that smile.
"The Xiao San."
His voice was hoarse and deep, "You've grown taller."
These words were like a key, suddenly unlocking the emotions that had been building up in Tang San's chest for six years.
He could no longer control himself, took a big step across the threshold, and rushed to Tang Hao.
She reached out to hug her father, but her arms stopped abruptly halfway open in mid-air.
His gaze moved down from Tang Hao's face and landed on the black robe.
The right sleeve of that black robe was empty!
The sleeves deflated from the shoulders, the fabric folds hanging naturally and limply beside the chair armrests, gently stirred by the breeze coming in through the window.
Tang San's gaze suddenly trembled.
Scan the next section...
Tang Hao's left trouser leg was also empty.
The fabric was neatly tied up above the knee, with a rough knot at the end.
Tang San's pupils suddenly contracted, as if he had been punched in the chest.
He remembered what Tai Tan had told him before.
When the old man mentioned his father, his eyes darted away, and his voice was low. "Master... was seriously injured, very seriously injured."
At the time, he thought that even the most serious injuries were nothing more than internal or bone injuries, and that with his father's Titled Douluo strength, he would eventually recover.
He never expected things to turn out this way.
Tang Hao's complexion was more worrying than his wounds.
He was originally the strong and burly blacksmith from Holy Soul Village.
She was noticeably thinner now, and the outline of her collarbone was faintly visible through her neckline.
His stubble had turned mostly white, his cheekbones were more prominent than before, his eye sockets were slightly sunken, and his skin had lost its former rugged and vibrant bronze luster.
He sat there, like a weathered rock.
Tang San lowered his hand, which was halfway outstretched.
The hand tightened in mid-air, the five fingers curling up one by one into a fist, the knuckles making a cracking sound.
Staring at her father's empty right arm and left leg, waves of emotion surged up in her chest.
His anger nearly set him ablaze.
"Dad."
Tang San's voice was low and suppressed, as if it were being forced out from between his teeth, each word trembling with restraint.
"Dad, who hurt you? Who was it!"
This time, the voice suddenly rose several decibels, carrying an uncontrollable ferocity.
Tang Hao remained silent for a moment.
He looked at Tang San's tightly clenched fists, at the face that resembled his own in his youth, filled with hatred, and at the murderous intent surging in his son's eyes.
He closed his eyes, then opened them again.
He knew he couldn't hide it anymore, and he didn't intend to hide it any longer. Some things were time for the children to know.
"It's the Spirit Hall."
Tang Hao's voice was deep, as if it came from the depths of his chest.
Yu Xiaogang, standing by the door, was startled by these words.
His expression changed in an instant.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just clenched his fists.
He knew that the Spirit Hall's pursuit of the entire Clear Sky Sect had never stopped.
But he never expected things to have come to this.
For an attack that could cause Tang Hao to lose an arm or a leg, what kind of massive force would that be? How many Titled Douluo would be involved?
Upon hearing these three words, Tang San clenched his teeth tightly, making a snapping sound.
The internal energy of the Mysterious Heaven Skill within his body accelerated uncontrollably.
A wave of air rippled out from beneath his feet, scattering dust from the doorway.
Anger and hatred nearly overwhelmed his reason.
He wished he could rush to the Spirit Hall right now, and personally tear those who had hurt his father to pieces.
"Not long ago, the Spirit Hall discovered that I belonged to the Strength Clan."
Tang Hao continued.
His tone was frighteningly calm, as if he were talking about something that had nothing to do with him.
"They sent Titled Douluo to attack the Strength Clan."
Upon hearing this, Tang San's anger was suddenly tinged with a chill.
The Strength Clan, that is the family of the Tai Tan.
"I broke through the encirclement."
Tang Hao spoke these words casually, omitting all the thrilling details with just a few words.
But Tang San could imagine that scene.
"The Spirit Hall."
Tang San squeezed out these three words through gritted teeth.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a bone-chilling coldness, like the biting cold of iron pressed against the skin in the dead of winter.
He slowly raised his head, a flash of dark jade light in his eyes, the killing intent churning within them almost solidifying.
"I, Tang San, swear here—"
"They will definitely pay for their crimes in blood!"