A Fate-Suppressing Cauldron directly crippled Tang San's divine trial!

Sea God Island, Tang Sect temporary camp.

Tang San sat in the main seat.

"Everyone here?"

Tang San swept his gaze across the room.

The Shrek Seven Devils sat on the left.

Dai Mubai leaned against the back of his chair, arms crossed over his chest;

Ma Hongjun sat beside him, shaking his leg with an impatient expression;

Oscar held a cup of tea without drinking, Ning Rongrong sitting very close to him;

Zhu Zhuqing sat in the furthest corner, eyes closed, saying nothing;

Xiao Wu's seat was empty.

On the right were the members of the Tang Sect; the patriarchs of the Strength Clan, Defense Clan, and Speed Clan had all arrived.

Yu Xiaogang stood at the very back, clutching a stack of intelligence dossiers in his hand.

The same word was written on everyone's face—waiting.

Tang San did not exchange pleasantries.

"I'll get straight to the point."

His hand pressed onto the shaft of the Sea God Trident. With a forceful push, the trident shifted half an inch across the tabletop, emitting a dull, grinding sound.

"My fortune has been suppressed."

The room fell silent for two breaths.

Ma Hongjun's leg stopped shaking.

"What does that mean?"

Dai Mubai lowered his arms from his chest.

Tang San did not look at him, staring instead at the tabletop.

"Something arrived in Martial Soul City called the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron. It is the second betrothal gift sent to Hu Liena by that man who calls himself the ancient Celestial Master, Shen Yichen."

His finger slid an inch along the trident's shaft.

"The function of this cauldron is to suppress fortune—not to weaken it, but to suppress it. From the moment the cauldron recognized its master, the fortune within my body began to be drained. My cultivation speed has dropped by nearly half, and I have been attempting the final stage of the Eighth Sea God Trial for twelve days straight, unable to pass."

A pause.

"If that cauldron is not destroyed, the Sea God inheritance will fall short of success."

The last four words landed like a hammer, and the temperature in the room dropped sharply.

"Third Brother, are you telling the truth?"

Oscar set down his teacup, the playfulness on his face completely vanished.

Tang San raised his right hand.

Blue veins bulged on the back of his hand, and his fingers spasmed slightly—the external manifestation of his fortune being continuously drained.

It had been seven days; these spasms had not stopped. It was manageable during the day, but at night, when it was at its worst, his five fingers would cramp into the shape of eagle talons, the pain so severe he couldn't sleep all night.

Oscar's expression changed.

Ning Rongrong snapped her folding fan shut with a "clack."

"The path to godhood is severed?"

The muscles in Tang San's jaw twitched.

"If we leave it unchecked."

Ma Hongjun sprang up from his chair, slamming a palm onto the table.

"Damn it!"

"To hell with waiting! Let's charge straight to Martial Soul City! Smash that broken cauldron, and while we're at it, slaughter Hu Liena and Bibi Dong! No point in keeping them around!"

His Phoenix Wing Martial Soul released automatically in his agitation, two clusters of flickering flames igniting behind his back. He looked as irritable as a rooster that had had its tail stepped on.

"I've never liked Hu Liena! Relying on that fox face to seduce everyone, and now she's latched onto the thigh of some bullshit Celestial Master—"

"Sit down."

Dai Mubai did not look up, speaking only those two words.

Ma Hongjun clicked his tongue, but his backside returned to the chair.

He didn't retract his phoenix fire, which hissed as it scorched the back of the chair.

Dai Mubai leaned forward, fingers interlaced on the table.

"Third Brother, Martial Soul City is the lair of Martial Soul Hall. There are over twenty thousand resident soul masters, Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo are stationed there long-term, and Bibi Dong herself is a Limit Douluo—she will complete the Rakshasa God inheritance before long."

He tilted his head slightly.

"A frontal assault is no different from throwing our lives away."

Ma Hongjun curled his lip, but he did not refute the statement.

Because what Dai Mubai said was the truth.

The room fell silent once again.

The various clan leaders of the Tang Sect exchanged glances, but no one spoke.

Yu Xiaogang stood in the back, his hand frozen for a long time while flipping through the intelligence dossiers.

Tang San waited for a few breaths, waiting until everyone's attention was refocused on him.

"We don't need a frontal assault."

He pulled a folded piece of parchment from his robes, unfolded it, and pressed it onto the tabletop.

It was a defensive map of Martial Soul City.

The city wall markings, patrol routes, Soul Tool positions, and the duty shifts of Title Douluos—everything was drawn with absolute clarity.

"Where did you get this?" Dai Mubai swept his gaze over it, his brows knitting together.

"Senior Sister Liu Erlong has deep-cover agents in Martial Soul City; this is the latest intelligence gathered over five days."

Tang San's finger landed on the bottom right corner of the map.

"There is a fatal gap in the nighttime defenses of Martial Soul City."

Everyone's eyes followed his fingertip.

"Between the hours of Zi and Chou, the patrol squads at the East Gate of Martial Soul City undergo a shift change. This transition lasts about a quarter of an hour. During this time, the corridor between the East Gate and the Pope Palace—"

His finger traced a thin line on the map—

"—is only patrolled by three groups of ordinary soul masters, with no Title Douluos present."

"What about Chrysanthemum Douluo and Ghost Douluo?" Zhu Zhuqing opened her eyes.

"Chrysanthemum Douluo is responsible for the North Gate night watch, and after the hour of Zi, Ghost Douluo is stationed in the Elder Hall for secluded cultivation. It would take both of them at least half an incense stick's time to reach the Pope Palace."

Tang San raised his head, scanning the face of everyone present one by one.

"The plan is simple: infiltrate under the cover of night and strike directly at the Pope Palace."

"After the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron recognized Hu Liena as its master, it is highly likely stored near her cultivation chamber—we will not linger, we destroy the cauldron, and we withdraw immediately."

"As long as we are fast enough, Bibi Dong won't even have time to react."

Dai Mubai stared at Tang San for three seconds before withdrawing his gaze.

Silence.

Finally, he nodded slowly.

Ma Hongjun was the second to nod, carrying an impulsive energy that screamed, "I've been wanting to do this for a long time."

Oscar looked at Ning Rongrong; Ning Rongrong closed her eyes for a moment, then nodded.

Zhu Zhuqing stood up from the corner. She didn't nod or shake her head, simply walking over to stand behind Dai Mubai—this was her answer.

The leaders of the Tang Sect were the last to declare their stance. The leader of the Strength Clan rubbed his hands together, his voice gruff:

"Whatever Sect Master Tang commands, we shall do."

The others followed suit.

In the entire room, only Yu Xiaogang remained motionless.

He stood at the very back, the stack of dossiers in his hand clutched tight, then loosened, then clutched again. He opened his mouth twice, but both times, no sound came out.

Tang San noticed, but he did not look at him.

"We depart tonight."

Tang San's hand pressed back onto the Sea God Trident, the spasms in his fingers easing slightly the moment he touched the shaft.

"Before then, everyone must bring their condition to its peak."

The group rose one after another and filed out.

As Ma Hongjun reached the door, he glanced back and saw that Tang San was still sitting there, unmoving.

The Sea God Trident lay across the table, the defensive map spread out under the lamplight, and that man sat with his head bowed, half his face buried in shadow.

His expression was impossible to read.

The door closed.

Tang San was the only one left in the room.

He slowly raised his right hand, spread his fingers, and stared at them against the candlelight for a long time.

The spasms continued.

In the past, whenever he encountered danger, a vague intuition would always tell him—it's fine, just hold on and it will pass.

That intuition had never failed him before.

It was gone now.

That voice had vanished, and along with it, that sense of security as if the very heavens were backing him.

So that was what they called destiny; only after losing it did he realize how much it hurt.

"Shen Yichen... Hu Liena..."

His hand curled, five fingers digging in one by one, nails sinking into the flesh of his palm.