Want to take this prince as your disciple? Wait until you're level 30!

Yu Xiaogang spread his arms wide, looking for all the world like a charlatan descending from the heavens:

"But if he were to take me as his master, to become a direct disciple of Yu Xiaogang... I guarantee it!"

"I would pour every ounce of my life's research into him! I would tailor the most perfect spirit ring combination specifically for him! I would make him the brightest new star on this continent, and perhaps even... break through the shackles of a Titled Douluo!"

The grand hall echoed with Yu Xiaogang's impassioned, ringing voice.

If this were an ordinary civilian spirit master hearing such a solemn vow from a figure of such illustrious lineage, they would likely have been moved to tears, kneeling on the floor to kowtow and accept him as a master.

"Pfft."

Forgive Xue Yao; he had never undergone professional training, and he truly could not hold it in.

A mocking curve tugged at the corner of Xue Yao's mouth, his voice crisp and loud, reverberating throughout the entire hall.

Seeing that everyone's gaze was fixed upon him, Xue Yao simply stopped pretending.

"You merely wish to use my martial spirit to prove your own ridiculous theories! You want me to become the most perfect 'experimental subject' in your hands, and you want to step upon the glory I achieve in the future to wash away the shame of being called a 'trash' for the first half of your life!"

"Am I right? Master Yu, Xiao, Gang!"

BOOM!

Xue Yao deliberately emphasized the last five syllables.

Yu Xiaogang was struck as if by lightning; his face turned deathly pale in an instant, and a fine layer of cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

He had been seen through!

The selfishness and baseness hidden in the deepest recesses of his heart—things he himself refused to admit—had been laid completely bare in public by a six-year-old child!

"You... you are spouting nonsense! You are slandering me!"

Yu Xiaogang stumbled back half a step in a panic, like a clown whose sore spot had been stepped on. The finger he pointed at Xue Yao trembled violently: "I, Yu Xiaogang, have dedicated my life to the study of martial spirits. I proposed the Ten Core Competencies, the most famous of which is 'there are no trash martial spirits, only trash spirit masters'! I am merely teaching according to aptitude!"

"Oh? No trash martial spirits, only trash spirit masters?"

Xue Yao seemed to have heard the funniest joke in the world. He chuckled, his eyes turning sharp as a blade, like a judge looking down from on high:

"That statement certainly sounds inspiring. Then, may I ask, this world-renowned Master..."

"How old are you this year? And what level has your spirit power reached?"

Once these words were out, they acted like a poisoned dagger, piercing accurately and mercilessly into Yu Xiaogang's heart!

Yu Xiaogang's breath hitched, his lips quivering. His originally pale face flushed to the color of a pig's liver, yet he could not squeeze out a single word.

"What? The Master doesn't wish to say? Then this Prince shall say it for you!"

Xue Yao pressed forward, his voice cold and devoid of warmth: "You are nearing fifty, yet your spirit power is forever stuck at the level of a twenty-ninth-rank Soul Grand Master, unable to break through for the rest of your life! Your martial spirit, Luo Sanpao, not only leaves your body but can do nothing but fart!"

"According to your own theory, since there are no trash martial spirits..."

Xue Yao paused, his eyes filled with boundless contempt: "Then you, a man of forty or fifty who cannot even break through to the thirtieth rank, are you not the purest, most top-tier... trash spirit master in this entire continent?!"

Silence.

A deathly silence.

The guards on both sides of the hall bit their lips hard, desperately stifling their laughter, their shoulders shaking violently.

Xue Lang and Gao Nianzhen gasped, feeling a surge of exhilaration in their hearts! This logic, this counterattack—it was a perfectly closed loop, a strike that pierced the heart and soul!

Didn't you say there are no trash martial spirits, only trash spirit masters? Then how do you explain your own miserable state?

"Pfft—!"

Yu Xiaogang felt a surge of blood rush to his chest; a sweetness rose in his throat, and he nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed and twisted by a vice.

Pain! It was too painful!

Twenty-ninth rank! This was the deepest, most festering scar of Yu Xiaogang's life! And now, this scar had been ruthlessly torn open in front of so many people by a six-year-old child, who then rubbed salt into the wound!

"You... you..." Yu Xiaogang's eyes turned blood-red, like a maddened beast, "My martial spirit suffered a malignant mutation! That was an accident! My theories are not wrong! I am still the Young Master of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan; how dare you be so rude to me!"

He suddenly raised the black token in his hand, attempting to use the prestige of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan to salvage the last shred of his dignity.

"I didn't know who you were before, so I was almost bluffed by you. Yu Xiaogang, don't you know that you are not the Young Master of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan, but have actually been expelled from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan? How dare you act like a fox borrowing the tiger's might here at the Farak Kingdom Mansion?"

Gao Nianzhen did not buy it at all. She arched her willow-leaf brows and slowly raised her right hand.

"ROAR!!!"

The Golden Lion martial spirit, at the level of a Soul Saint, let out a roar toward the heavens behind her.

Even if it was only a sliver of her aura.

"Squeal—!"

A cry of extreme terror, sounding like a pig being slaughtered, suddenly erupted from within Yu Xiaogang's body.

It was his martial spirit, Luo Sanpao!

Under the pressure of a Soul Saint, Yu Xiaogang's legs went weak, and he nearly collapsed onto the floor of the grand hall.

"Master? Hah, Master."

Xue Yao looked down at the teetering Yu Xiaogang from his height, his eyes devoid of anger, holding only the pity and disdain one might reserve for a sewer rat.

Xue Yao turned slowly, refusing to spare Yu Xiaogang another glance, as if even looking at him would soil his own eyes. He left Yu Xiaogang with nothing but a cold, aloof back and a final, death-knell sentence:

"Grandmaster, you wish to take this Prince as your disciple?"

"Very well."

"In this life, this Prince bows only to the truly strong!"

Xue Yao tilted his head slightly, catching a glimpse of the ashen-faced Yu Xiaogang from the corner of his eye, and sneered, "When you finally break through to become a level 30 Soul Elder, come back to the Farak Kingdom Mansion and talk to me about your laughable theories."

"Now, take your plagiarized trash and get out of my sight!"

It was a strike to the heart.

"Come back when you're level thirty!"

This sentence was like a bolt of lightning from the heavens, shattering Yu Xiaogang's fragile, ridiculous pride along with his hypocritical facade! Not a single scrap remained.

"Level thirty... level thirty..."

Yu Xiaogang muttered, his eyes vacant, as the Blue Lightning Token slipped from his hand and clattered onto the bluestone floor.

He seemed to age ten years in an instant; his already rigid face was now twisted beyond recognition. His mental defenses had completely collapsed.

Faced with Xue Yao's impeccable logic, he could not even muster a single word of rebuttal.

He was like a thief stripped naked and thrown into the street, trembling under the undisguised mockery and contemptuous gazes of the guards at the Farak Kingdom Mansion.

"I am not trash... my theories are not wrong... I am not..."

Yu Xiaogang clutched his head in a breakdown, letting out a roar like a wounded beast, forgetting even to pick up the Elder Token lying on the ground.

He scrambled to his feet and turned, stumbling out of the Main Guest Hall like a stray dog, fleeing the Farak Kingdom Mansion in utter disgrace.