Bloodline Degradation, Malignant Martial Soul Mutation, a Choice

Tang Hao stared at the almost insane determination on his son's face, and slowly raised his remaining left hand.

That hand was rough and heavy, with knuckles like iron, and the palm was covered with calluses from decades of blacksmithing.

He looked extremely unwell; his face was deathly pale.

But that hand was as steady as an iron clamp, gripping Tang San's shoulder with a force as heavy as if a mountain were pressing down on him.

"The Xiao San."

The sound that came out of Tang Hao's throat was like muffled thunder coming from deep underground.

"Right now, neither you nor I are a match for the Spirit Hall."

That hand pressed down on Tang San's shoulder, forcefully suppressing the Mysterious Heaven Skill internal energy surging within him, which was about to explode.

Tang San's chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath, gradually suppressing the murderous intent that was about to overflow in his eyes.

"Dad, I--"

"Xiao San, I understand how you feel, but your most important task now is to become stronger. Only by becoming strong enough can you stand against the Spirit Hall."

Tang Hao interrupted him, his tone not blaming, but only gratified.

He felt that his son's crazy behavior had subsided, so he let go of his hand.

"Tai Tan has told me there's something wrong with your Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul. Show me your Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul."

Upon hearing this, Tang San's eyes, which had been burning red with hatred, suddenly lit up.

He immediately thought of the strange things that had been happening to Blue Silver Grass lately.

An uncontrollable shrinkage, a restless surge deep within the blood, a suffocating feeling as if someone is strangling you.

His father specifically asked him to release his Martial Soul; could it be that he had already seen through the scheme? Is there a way to cure it?

"Dad, do you know about my Martial Soul— "

"Put."

Tang San didn't utter another word.

He knew his father's temperament all too well; a single word from his father could leave a deep impression, and he never wasted a word.

He took a deep breath, stretched out his right hand, palm up—a slender blue blade of grass sprouted from under his skin.

But that plant was in even worse shape than it had been a few days ago.

The grass stems stood crookedly, as if their marrow had been drained, unable to even muster the strength to straighten up.

The leaves were thin and yellow, with curled and shrunken edges. Their withered yellow color resembled that of wild grass trampled on by the roadside and withered by the scorching sun.

After the Martial Soul was released, the tips of the grass drooped towards the ground, barely maintaining even the most basic form.

You could even hear a faint, cracking sound coming from inside the grass stems, like something breaking.

Tang Hao's gaze was fixed on his son's palm, falling on the extremely withered Blue Silver Grass.

His previously calm face suddenly darkened, his brows furrowed more and more, and a deep vertical line appeared between his eyebrows.

His left hand, which was resting on his knee, had somehow become clenched into a fist.

When did it start?

About two weeks ago.

Tang San lowered his voice, "At first I just felt my Martial Soul was a little weak, but later it became increasingly unbearable."

"I've tried increasing the amount of Soul Power I transfer, and I've also tried using Soul Power to nurture it, but nothing works."

Tang Hao didn't reply, staring intently at the Blue Silver Grass, his gaze so sharp it seemed he wanted to dissect every vein in the blades.

Yu Xiaogang, standing to the side, changed his expression instantly after seeing the actual state of Tang San's martial soul.

He had only glanced at Tang San from afar at the Training Ground a few times before, and only felt that Tang San's condition was not right. He never imagined that the actual situation had deteriorated to this extent.

Now, seeing the Martial Soul up close, he truly realized how serious the problem was.

This is not a common damage to one's Martial Soul; the problem lies at its root.

"Your His Excellency Haotian"

Yu Xiaogang tried to keep his voice down, but he couldn't hide the worry in his throat, and even his breathing became rapid.

"Can you tell what the Xiao San's Martial Soul is?"

"I've gone through all the information about the Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul, but I haven't found a single one that matches this."

Tang San stood in front of Tang Hao, his hands slightly clenched, the muscles in his palms tense and hard.

He desperately tried to keep the Blue Silver Grass stable, preventing it from completely collapsing in front of his father.

She secretly lifted her eyelids to glance at her father's expression, a surge of tension welling up inside her that she couldn't suppress.

If even his father can't see the problem, then who else in the entire Douluo Continent can he turn to? Who can save his Martial Soul?

"..."

The room fell silent.

Tang Hao sat at the edge of the light and shadow, his stubble and wrinkles sunken in the shadows, making him look like a silent stone statue.

The time dragged on for an extremely long time, so long that Tang San felt his palms begin to tremble, before Tang Hao finally uttered three words from that silence.

"It's bloodline."

Low-pitched, resolute.

Tang San's mind went blank for a moment.

"Bloodline? What bloodline?"

He subconsciously looked down at the drooping Blue Silver Grass in his palm.

Bloodline—His bloodline is the bloodline of the Clear Sky Hammer and the Blue Silver Grass Twin Martial Souls. Which one is his father referring to?

"Bloodline!"

Yu Xiaogang reacted much faster than Tang San. He repeated the word, his eyes suddenly lighting up.

"It's bloodline! How come I didn't think of that!"

He strode up to Tang San, bent down, and almost pressed his face against the Blue Silver Grass.

"The Blue Silver Grass Martial Soul's sudden and complete degeneration is not due to external injuries causing Martial Soul, nor is it due to a problem with the circulation of Soul Power, nor is it due to poisoning or being cursed—all signs point to the bloodline level."

His eyes were glued to every vein on the blade of grass, and he muttered to himself, his speech growing faster and faster, with the excited intensity of someone who had just caught a crucial clue.

"This situation can be definitively classified as a bloodline deterioration and mutation!"

"Once a hidden flaw appears in the bloodline inheritance chain, it will suddenly explode at a certain point in time, completely dismantling the stable structure of the Martial Soul from its root..."

Tang Hao nodded.

"Bloodline deterioration, or rather, malignant mutation."

He confirmed Yu Xiaogang's judgment, his voice carrying an indescribable heaviness.

When Tang San heard the words "malignant mutation of bloodline," it felt as if something had punched him hard in the chest.

He had heard the terms "malignant mutation" countless times in Yu Xiaogang's theory classes.

Regardless of which Martial Soul Theory system it is placed in, this is the most troublesome, the most unsolvable, and the most...

The quality and characteristics of Martial Soul depend entirely on bloodline inheritance. Once the bloodline is corrupted, it's like the tree starting to rot from its roots.

Withered branches can be pruned, and a trunk riddled with borers can be repaired, but what if the roots are completely rotten?

Yu Xiaogang's Luo Sanpao is a tragic example.

Tang San didn't want his Martial Soul to become like Luo Sanpao, only capable of farting.

But he quickly suppressed his panic.

Since Father was able to see the crux of the problem at a glance, he must have a solution!

"Dad."

Tang San stared intently at Tang Hao, his voice urgent and fervent, "Then how do we treat it? You must have a way, right?"

Tang Hao looked at the hope that had rekindled on his son's face.

He remained silent for a few seconds.

Those few seconds felt longer than an entire century.

Then he slowly shook his head.

"This problem... I can't cure it."

"What?!"

Tang San felt as if a bucket of ice water had been poured over his head, chilling him to the bone.

His shoulders slumped suddenly, and the expression on his face vanished for a moment.

The feeling of falling hard from a height was a hundred times worse than the simple frustration and anger he had felt before; it was so bad that he could barely breathe.

Yu Xiaogang, who was standing to the side, also froze.

The radiance that had just appeared on his face vanished quickly.

Even Clear Sky Douluo was helpless, which means that the difficulty of this matter far exceeded the understanding of everyone present.

Tang San, who had been clutching his hope tightly, suddenly let go.

He looked down at the withered Blue Silver Grass in his palm, feeling as if something had completely emptied his heart.

He even felt that the blade of grass was watching him, with the same desperate expression.

Before he could process his disappointment, Tang Hao spoke again.

"But--"

"I know a place where someone might be able to heal your Martial Soul."

"Where?!"

Tang San suddenly looked up.

Yu Xiaogang looked at Tang Hao at the same time.

Two pairs of eyes met in mid-air, then fixed on the one-armed man.

Tang Hao met the two gazes, his weathered face displaying an extremely complex expression, and slowly uttered four words.

"Blue Silver Forest".