Sea God Island, Tang Sect's temporary camp.
Tang San sat at the head of the table.
"Is everyone here?"
Tang San glanced around the room.
The Shrek Seven Devils sat on the left.
Dai Mubai leaned against his chair, arms crossed over his chest;
Ma Hongjun sat beside him, impatiently bouncing his leg;
Oscar held a cup of tea without drinking, with Ning Rongrong sitting close beside him;
Zhu Zhuqing sat in the farthest corner, eyes closed and silent;
Xiao Wu's seat was empty.
On the right were members of the Tang Sect, along with the clan leaders of the Strength Clan, Defense Clan, and Speed Clan.
Yu Xiaogang stood at the very back, clutching a stack of intelligence dossiers.
The same word was written on everyone's face: wait.
Tang San skipped the pleasantries.
"I'll get straight to the point."
He pressed a hand against the shaft of the Sea God Trident and pushed. The trident slid half an inch across the tabletop with a dull scrape.
"My fortune has been suppressed."
The room fell silent for two breaths.
Ma Hongjun stopped bouncing his leg.
"What do you mean?"
Dai Mubai lowered his arms from his chest.
Tang San didn't look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the tabletop.
"Something called the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron has arrived in Spirit City. It's the second betrothal gift Shen Yichen, the man calling himself the Ancient Celestial Master, gave Hu Liena."
His fingers slid an inch along the trident's shaft.
"The cauldron suppresses fortune—not weakens it, suppresses it. From the moment it acknowledged its master, the fortune within me began to drain away. My cultivation speed has dropped by nearly half. I've been trying to pass the final hurdle of the Eighth Sea God Trial for twelve days straight, and I still can't get through."
He paused.
"If we don't destroy that cauldron, the Sea God Inheritance will come to nothing."
Those last four words hit the room like a hammer, chilling the air.
"Third Brother, is that true?"
Oscar set down his teacup, all traces of his usual playfulness gone.
Tang San raised his right hand.
The veins on the back of his hand stood out, and his fingers twitched slightly—the outward sign of his fortune being continuously drained away.
It had been seven days, and the spasms hadn't stopped. They were bearable during the day, but at night, when they were at their worst, his five fingers curled into an eagle's claw, the pain keeping him awake all night.
Oscar's expression changed.
Ning Rongrong snapped her folding fan shut.
"Has your path to godhood been cut off?"
The muscle in Tang San's jaw twitched.
"If I let this go unchecked."
Ma Hongjun sprang to his feet and slammed his palm onto the table.
"Damn it!"
"What are we waiting for? Let's charge straight into Spirit City! Smash that damned cauldron, and while we're at it, kill Hu Liena and Bibi Dong! Better than leaving them around till New Year!"
His Phoenix Wing Martial Soul released automatically in his agitation. Two flickering flames ignited behind him, and he looked as irritable as a rooster with its tail stepped on.
"I've never liked Hu Liena! Flaunting that fox face and seducing people everywhere, and now she's latched onto some damn Celestial Master—"
"Sit down."
Dai Mubai didn't look up. He said only two words.
Ma Hongjun clicked his tongue, but sat back down.
He didn't withdraw his phoenix flames, which crackled against the back of his chair.
Dai Mubai leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on the tabletop.
"Third Brother, Spirit City is Spirit Hall's stronghold. It has over twenty thousand Soul Masters stationed there, and Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo are permanently based there. Bibi Dong herself is a Limit Douluo, and she'll soon complete her Rakshasa God Inheritance."
He tilted his head slightly.
"A frontal assault would be no different from walking to our deaths."
Ma Hongjun curled his lip but didn't argue.
Dai Mubai was stating a fact.
The room fell silent again.
The Tang Sect's clan leaders exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
At the back, Yu Xiaogang had long since stopped turning the pages of his intelligence dossiers.
Tang San waited a few breaths, until everyone's attention had returned to him.
"We don't need a frontal assault."
He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robes, opened it, and spread it across the table.
It was a defense map of Spirit City.
The city walls, patrol routes, Soul Tool formations, and the shifts of the Titled Douluo on guard—all were marked in meticulous detail.
"Where did this come from?" Dai Mubai glanced at it, his brows knitting together.
"Senior Sister Liu Erlong has a covert contact in Spirit City. It took her five days to get the latest intelligence."
Tang San's finger landed on the lower-right corner of the map.
"Spirit City's nighttime defenses have one fatal gap."
Everyone's gaze followed his fingertip.
"Between midnight and the hour of the ox, the patrols at Spirit City's east gate change shifts. The handover takes about a quarter of an hour. During that time, this passage between the east gate and Pope Palace—"
His finger traced a thin line across the map—
"is patrolled by only three groups of ordinary Soul Masters. No Titled Douluo."
"What about Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo?" Zhu Zhuqing opened her eyes.
"Chrysanthemum Douluo is responsible for the north gate's night watch. After midnight, Ghost Douluo always retreats to the Elder Hall to cultivate. It would take either of them at least half an incense stick to reach Pope Palace."
Tang San raised his head and looked over every face in the room.
"The plan's simple: sneak in at night and head straight for Pope Palace."
"The Fate-Suppressing Cauldron will most likely be kept near Hu Liena's Cultivation Room, now that it's acknowledged her as its master. We won't get caught up in a fight. We destroy the cauldron and retreat at once."
"As long as we're fast enough, Bibi Dong won't have time to react."
Dai Mubai stared at Tang San for three seconds, then looked away.
Silence.
At last, he slowly nodded.
Ma Hongjun nodded second, brimming with the fervor of a man who'd been itching to do this for ages.
Oscar glanced at Ning Rongrong. She closed her eyes briefly, then nodded.
Zhu Zhuqing rose from her corner. She neither nodded nor shook her head, simply walking over to stand behind Dai Mubai—that was her answer.
The Tang Sect's clan leaders were the last to respond. The Strength Clan's leader rubbed his hands together and spoke in a rough voice:
"Just give the word, Sect Master Tang."
The others echoed him.
Only Yu Xiaogang remained motionless.
He stood at the back, clenching and loosening the stack of dossiers in his hands. He opened his mouth twice, but neither time did a sound come out.
Tang San noticed, but didn't look at him.
"We leave tonight."
Tang San rested his hand on the Sea God Trident again. The twitching in his fingers eased slightly the moment they touched its shaft.
"Before then, everyone get yourselves into the best possible shape."
The others rose one after another and filed out.
As Ma Hongjun reached the door, he glanced back and saw Tang San still sitting there, unmoving.
The trident lay across the table, the defense map spread out beneath the lamplight, and the man sat with his head lowered, half his face buried in shadow.
His expression was impossible to make out.
The door closed.
Tang San was alone in the room.
He slowly raised his right hand, spread his fingers, and studied them in the candlelight for a long time.
The spasms continued.
Whenever danger had threatened him in the past, a vague instinct had always told him, It's fine. Just hold on, and everything will be all right.
That instinct had never failed him.
Now it was gone.
That voice had disappeared, and with it went the sense of security that the whole world would catch him if he fell.
So that was what fortune was called. Only after losing it did he realize how much it hurt.
"Shen Yichen... Hu Liena..."
His hand curled shut, one finger after another, his nails digging into his palm.
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