Comparing Two Tang Sans?

As soon as he said that, the other two exploded.

"Son of Tang Hao? Blue Silver Emperor Bloodline? Knows the Tang Sect Secret Arts? And his name is Tang San?" Qian Gujue's eyes went round. "Isn't that the original story's protagonist, Tang San?!"

"That's not right!" Oupai immediately objected. "In the original story, Tang San was taken by Tang Hao to live in seclusion in Holy Soul Village right after he was born! How could he have been adopted by Spirit Hall? And he's a twin? There's no twin subplot in the original story at all!"

"And if he's the original Tang San, how could he be living peacefully in Spirit Hall? Spirit Hall was his sworn enemy in the original story!" Gui Mengguan frowned, looking thoroughly confused.

The three transmigrators crouched behind the artificial hill, staring at one another as their thoughts tangled into a mess.

After a long while, Qian Gujue suddenly slapped his thigh and lowered his voice. "I've got it! We didn't transmigrate into the original story at all! We've landed in some chaotic Douluo fanfic mash-up!"

"Fanfic?" The other two immediately turned to him.

"Then how else do you explain it?" Qian Gujue counted off on his fingers. "Look, Ancestor Qian Chongguang, who wasn't in the original story, is here; Chrysanthemum Douluo, who was a man in the original story, has become a woman and had a child with Ghost Douluo; Tang San, who was supposed to be in Holy Soul Village, is a twin adopted by Spirit Hall; and then there's the three of us transmigrators! This has to be a chaotic fanfic mash-up that crammed in all kinds of fanfic tropes and wildly altered plotlines!"

Gui Mengguan and Oupai suddenly saw the light. The more they thought about it, the more it made sense.

"Oh my god, so we really did transmigrate into a fanfic mash-up?" Gui Mengguan's mouth twitched. "We start out in the villains' den and end up in the same class as the original protagonist? What kind of hellish start is this?"

"Not really a hellish start." Oupai blinked. "We've got Titled Douluo backing us! The Chrysanthemum Ghost Douluo who didn't survive Jialing Pass in the original story are Gui Mengguan's parents now; Guang Ling Douluo is my grandfather; and Jiang Mo and Qian Jun are Qian Gujue's grandfathers! With a setup like this, we're definitely villainous heirs!"

"I just don't know whether this Tang San was reincarnated from the original story or whether he's a transmigrator like us." Qian Gujue stroked his chin, looking curious.

The three transmigrators exchanged glances, each seeing the same intense hunger for gossip and desire to probe the truth in the others' eyes.

"Why don't we go test him?" Gui Mengguan raised an eyebrow. "If he's one of us, we'll bring him into the fold. Four transmigrators sticking together could rule this world! But if he really is the original Tang San, we'd better plan an escape route now, before he decides we're villains and wipes us out!"

"Surely not," Oupai said. "His eyes look so clear. He's probably from some fanfic twin story, where that mouse just happened to dump Tang San at Spirit Hall."

"That's possible. Either way, we have to try." Qian Gujue wholeheartedly agreed.

"If he really is Tang San, then maybe this story is about comparing two Tang Sans."

As it turned out, their reasoning was completely wrong, but they got the result right.

Oupai and Qian Gujue nodded at once. The three of them were in perfect agreement. They straightened their little clothes and toddled over to Tang San beneath the covered walkway.

Tang San had already sensed the three approaching presences. He slowly closed the book in his hands and looked up at them.

There was not a trace of childish innocence in his dark eyes, only calm vigilance, as if he had already seen through their intentions.

The three stopped in front of Tang San. The first to speak was the smoothest talker among them, Gui Mengguan.

He swung his little hand at his side, his pretty almond-shaped eyes curving as he spoke with sincere admiration. "Tang San, the footwork you practiced this morning was amazing. The teacher was stunned. He said he'd taught for over ten years and had never seen a three-year-old do the Balance Step so well. You're even more talented than a genius."

As soon as he finished, Qian Gujue nodded along, scratching the back of his head and echoing him with a troubled look. "Yeah, yeah, I can't do it. I always feel like there's something wrong with the teacher's power-generation technique. When I lift the stone lock, I either wobble all over the place or can't muster any strength. My arms are sore from practicing, but I still haven't figured it out."

Oupai also took the miniature wooden bow from his back and cradled it in his arms, adding softly, "Same here. When I practice aiming, my breathing always gets messed up. As soon as I breathe out, my hand shakes. My posture is right, but I still can't hit the bull's-eye. Tang San, do you have some special trick? We do the same amount of exercise, but you seem to find it much easier than we do."

The three of them took turns speaking, all about what they had learned in their daily lessons. There was nothing awkward about their probing; they seemed like three children their age who genuinely wanted advice and admired someone stronger.

What bad intentions could little kids have? When their identities as transmigrators were eventually exposed, they could just fool Tang San into thinking they were children who had transmigrated. By then, they'd have already built up a bond.

Tang San glanced at the three of them. His fingertips gently rubbed the edge of the page, but he didn't answer right away.

He had always been quiet and preferred not to crowd around others. Over the past few days, he had only watched these three children from a distance. Gui Mengguan was nimble and never fell, no matter how high he climbed; Qian Gujue was far stronger than other children his age, lifting the stone lock with astonishing steadiness; Oupai was an excellent archer, managing to graze the bull's-eye with every shot from thirty paces away. All three were considered geniuses by those around them, yet they had put aside their pride to ask him for advice. His wariness toward outsiders eased a little without him realizing it.

Especially when he heard the words "family," his fingertips paused ever so slightly, and warmth spread through his heart.

He was no longer like the lonely, helpless outer disciple from his previous life, forced to secretly learn techniques in the Tang Sect.

In this life, the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a warm swaddling cloth. By his side stood Bibi Dong, dressed in a black-and-red robe, with cold, sharp features that softened especially for him.

All he knew was that Bibi Dong had found him, an orphan with no parents, in a desolate mountain ridge steeped in the smell of blood. She had given him a name, a home to shelter him from wind and rain, and devoted care.

Every night, no matter how busy she was, Bibi Dong came to his room, tucked in his blankets, and warmed his cold little feet with her hands. When he was learning to talk, the first word he said was "Mama," and the usually stern Adjudicator Elder had tears in her eyes. When he fell ill with a fever, Bibi Dong stayed awake for three days and nights, watching over him and personally feeding him medicine and wiping him down. Whenever there was a book he wanted to read—even a rare volume locked away in the Elder Hall—Bibi Dong found a way to get it for him. She had never once scolded him.

In his heart, Bibi Dong was his own mother, the person dearest to him in this world.

Spirit Hall was his home, and everyone here was family—kin and siblings, all belonging to the same household as him.

This hard-won affection and peace of mind filled him with contentment, and he cherished it deeply.