The Clear Sky Douluo of Old, the Wheelchair War God of Today

When the door to the Moonlight Pavilion was pushed open.

The midday sun slanted in, illuminating the entire hall.

The light was warm, casting a gentle golden hue on the ground.

Even the dust floating on the beams was clearly visible, slowly swirling in the beam of light.

Such light should bring comfort and peace of mind.

But Tang San had no interest in seeing this open space.

He walked very fast, almost bursting in.

The soles of the boots made a series of rapid sounds as they scraped against the smooth floor tiles.

He barely managed to stop when he saw Tang Yuehua sitting by the window.

"Aunt."

His throat tightened, his chest heaving. "Where is my father? I need to see him urgently."

Tang Yuehua raised her head.

She was a woman with gentle features, and she always spoke slowly and softly, like spring water.

But at this moment, a corner of the gentleness in her eyes crumbled.

Tang Yuehua sighed softly.

The breath was long, as if it were a sigh that released something weighing on his chest.

"Come with me."

She stood up, her movements somewhat slow, her voice extremely soft.

"Your father is in the inner room. You two should talk things over."

She offered no explanation.

But it was precisely this reluctance to speak out that made Tang San's heart sink more than any explanation.

He followed behind his aunt, walking inside step by step.

Every step I took was nerve-wracking.

The door to the inner room opened.

The first thing Tang San saw was a wheelchair.

The wheelchair was slowly pushed in from behind the door.

The first thing that caught my eye was that someone was pushing, but the person in the chair didn't budge an inch.

The servant pushing the chair lowered his head and moved very quietly, as if afraid of disturbing something.

The wheel rolled over the threshold with a slight thud.

The sound was jarringly loud in the quiet room.

Then, he saw the person in the chair.

In that instant, Tang San felt as if all the blood in his body had turned ice-cold.

That was his father.

Once a towering figure, Clear Sky Douluo was a man who struck fear into the hearts of countless powerful figures on the continent.

But now, the person sitting in the wheelchair,

With limbs gone, his empty sleeves and trouser legs hung limply, looking withered, and his cheeks were deeply sunken.

With a bang, Tang San's mind exploded.

Soul Bone.

Those are the two Soul Bone.

The father gave his own Soul Bone to him.

Looking at this mutilated body, he finally understood how heavy the price had been.

A single Soul Bone cost more than just his father's limbs.

It's still his energy and spirit.

He had never seen his father so weathered and powerless.

His throat was blocked by something, and he couldn't utter a single word.

His eyes burned, but he stubbornly held them back, refusing to let the tears fall.

"The Xiao San."

Tang Hao spoke first.

His voice was weak and lacked strength; even the last syllable sound was shaky.

But looking at his son, he forced a smile.

That slight smile, tugging at her sunken cheeks, made the sight all the more heartbreaking.

He didn't mention himself at all.

He didn't mention a word about his missing limbs or disfigured appearance.

The first thing she asked was about her son.

"Elite Soul Master Tournament..."

He took a breath, his chest rising and falling slightly. "How is it?"

Tang San pursed his lips.

Looking into his father's eyes, he couldn't lie, nor did he want to.

"We lost."

He said in a low, hoarse voice, "I lost to Xiao Wu."

He paused, then added the most difficult sentence, "Xiao Wu is now... Spirit Emperor."

"!"

Tang Hao's gaze suddenly sharpened.

Spirit Emperor!

A glint of light flashed in those cloudy eyes.

He understood the weight of those two words better than anyone else.

Xiao Wu is Hundred-Thousand-Year Transformed Soul Beast.

Ten thousand years can remain ten thousand years, and transformations can return to their original forms.

Two years ago, she was only at the early stage of Soul Elder.

In two years, he progressed from Soul Elder to Spirit Emperor, reaching maturity.

This can no longer be measured by the methods of ordinary Soul Master.

Could it be that the accumulated power of Soul Beast over 100,000 years, awakened in a single day, caused a flood to burst its banks, something that cannot be reasonably deduced?

Even with his vast experience and knowledge, he was still taken aback upon hearing this.

Tang San lowered his eyes.

I let my dad down.

Tang Hao did not answer immediately.

After a long while, he slowly shook his head and let out a long sigh.

"Silly child."

His voice softened. "The opponent is Hundred-Thousand-Year Transformed Soul Beast. With 100,000 years of experience on its shoulders, it's beyond the reach of ordinary calculations."

"You lost to her, it's not your fault."

This is the gentlest comfort a father can offer.

But Tang San didn't answer.

He looked up, but there was no sign of relief in his eyes, only a heavy weight pressing down on him.

"Dad."

He said, word by word, "I'm still too weak."

Tang Hao looked at his son.

What he saw was a boy who had lost his spirit and energy.

That inherent arrogance, that unyielding spirit that no one could bend, has now largely dissipated.

All that remained was exhaustion and resentment.

This scene caused him even more heartache than hearing the word "defeat".

The Xiao San can lose.

Victory and defeat are common occurrences in warfare.

Even he himself had his share of defeats back then.

But the Xiao San can't fall apart.

A strong person can lack many things, but they cannot lose their pride.

Once pride is broken, a person truly collapses.

Trying to stand up again after that would be as difficult as climbing to heaven.

He looked into his son's empty eyes, and a surge of resentment welled up in his chest.

If... if a person loses their Torso Bone and skull, they will not die.

The moment the thought crossed his mind, his heart clenched painfully.

He really wanted to dig out those two bones as well and stuff them into his son's hands.

He accepted that he was missing all four limbs.

But if there was even a tiny bit of usability left in this broken body, he was willing to give it all to his Xiao San.

But fate had other plans.

He couldn't even bring himself to say the word "give".

A man who once held immense power and influence was now unable to even protect his own child.

This helplessness was more dull and tormenting than his severed limbs, gnawing at him day and night.

The hall was very quiet.

A short strip of light from outside the window flowed across the floor.

Tang Hao closed his eyes briefly.

When he opened his eyes again, something else surged within those cloudy eyes.

He pondered for a moment, his expression gradually becoming serious.

Even his broken body seemed to straighten a little at that moment.

"The Xiao San."

Tang San looked up.

Tang Hao's gaze suddenly sharpened as before.

In that instant, sitting in the wheelchair, it seemed as if he were once again the Clear Sky Douluo who roamed the continent and none dared to challenge him.

"I'll take you back to the Clear Sky Sect."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, his voice low, yet each word struck Tang San's heart like a hammer blow.

"Recognizing one's ancestors and returning to one's roots!"

Tang San was stunned.

Clear Sky Sect.

My father has lived in seclusion for years, never mentioning his origins.

That past seemed to have been deliberately sealed off, not even a crack was left.

He had guessed countless times in private, but never dared to ask.

And at that moment, the father uttered those three words himself.

Tang Hao stared at him, a fire burning in his eyes. "Where is a way to make you stronger?"

"!!!"

Tang San's heart skipped a beat.

The way to become stronger!

This is exactly what he needs!

What kind of place is the Clear Sky Sect?

So what exactly is this so-called "method to become stronger"?