Three Soul Tool airships engraved with angel emblems slowly rose into the air. Their immense shadows swept over the shimmering river as they flew toward Spirit City.
Tang San stood on the airship's deck, his robes snapping loudly in the wind. He looked down at Suotuo City shrinking beneath him, his gaze finally settling on the white magic clock tower in the city's south, his expression complicated.
"What are you thinking about?"
Golden Crocodile Douluo walked up beside him, idly rolling a walnut in his hand. His tone was far gentler than before.
After the Jar Shop incident, he had gained a measure of genuine approval for this child Bibi Dong had personally raised.
In truth, the observations made in secret during this period had shown that Tang San's heart leaned toward Spirit Hall—or rather, toward Bibi Dong.
"Nothing." Tang San withdrew his gaze, his voice calm. "I was just wondering what the Soul Master Tournament will be like two years from now."
"What else could it be?" Golden Crocodile Douluo sneered. "Those crooked melons and cracked dates might not even make it through the qualifiers. That Tang San is even more of a hopeless fool, with nothing in his head but women and unrealistic fantasies. He's no match for you at all."
Tang San said nothing and merely shook his head lightly.
He knew Tang San's potential better than anyone. They were souls of the same origin and possessed the same memories of their past life. Even if Tang San had now fallen to rock bottom, even if greed and obsession had blinded him, as long as he was given even the slightest chance, he might rise again.
He truly knew himself all too well.
What was more, Xiao Wu was still by his side, hiding far too many