Trapped in a Desperate Situation! Tang Hao Saves His Son with One Arm and Roars, "Don't You Dare Harm My Son!"

The sky outside had gone completely dark. The sea breeze carried in a damp, salty stench, whipping the tent flaps into a loud snap.

The Shrek Seven Devils had assembled and were standing outside the tent.

The thirty-two Tang Sect elites split into four groups, each checking their Hidden Weapons and gear.

No one spoke.

Tang San glanced around.

"Move out."

Midnight.

Three miles outside Spirit City's east gate, more than thirty dark figures lay silent in the woods, concealed among the bushes.

Tang San was at the front, prone on the ground. He had stowed the Sea God Trident in his Spirit Storage Ring and was wrapped head to toe in a Tang Sect–made Night-Walking Suit. Even his breathing was barely more than a whisper.

The Blue Silver Emperor's Grass Scout was already deployed--

Hundreds of silver strands, too fine for the naked eye to see, spread along the ground toward the city walls, relaying every movement within half a mile to his senses.

Two patrol squads had just met at the east gate before going their separate ways.

By the rhythm laid out in the intelligence report, the next shift change was still fifteen minutes away.

Tang San raised three fingers.

A silent reply came from behind him: three faint taps, fingernails knocking against a hard wooden bracer. An ordinary person would never have heard them.

Fifteen minutes later.

The torchlight atop the east gate's walls broke into a clear gap as both patrol squads converged on the gate tower to change shifts.

Tang San lowered his hand.

More than thirty dark figures sprang up at once. The Tang Sect's light-footed movement was on full display. Every step landed precisely on the softest patch of grass, without snapping a single dry twig.

At the foot of the wall.

Dai Mubai arrived first. He pressed his back to the wall, hooked his fingers into the gaps between the bricks, and climbed at speed.

The White Tiger Martial Soul gave him far greater arm strength than an ordinary person. In three breaths, he had vaulted onto the wall.

The battlements were empty.

He crouched and signaled to those below.

Tang San climbed up second.

Then came Ma Hongjun, Zhu Zhuqing, Oscar, and Ning Rongrong. In just a few breaths, all the Shrek Seven Devils had made it onto the wall.

The Tang Sect elites followed. As they landed, they used the edge of the battlements to push off and vault over, without even brushing their boot soles against the bricks.

The entire operation passed without a sound.

On the inner side of the wall.

Crouched behind the battlements, Tang San spread out his Grass Scout again.

Three patrol squads. The intelligence had been exact.

The first was in the west-side corridor of Pope Palace: two Soul Ancestors and one Soul King, walking with lax steps.

The second was farther away, near the Scripture Library to the north. It could be ignored.

The third was a little troublesome: three Soul Kings and six Soul Ancestors, slowly patrolling the main avenue in front of Pope Palace, less than two hundred paces from the main entrance.

Tang San tapped out a few quick signals on his knee, using the Tang Sect's finger code.

Zhu Zhuqing vanished without a sound.

Ten breaths later.

On the main avenue, all three Soul Kings stiffened at once. Nether Slash cut out of the darkness, three precise strikes of fierce, hidden force landing on the numbness points at the backs of their necks.

They collapsed without even managing a groan.

Before the six Soul Ancestors could react, Hidden Weapons had already pierced their pressure points. The Tang Sect elites darted out of the shadows and dragged the unconscious patrolmen into a flower bed beside the road.

The way was clear.

Pope Palace loomed ahead. The enormous structure stood silent in the night, its glazed roof tiles reflecting the faint starlight.

Tang San quickened his pace.

Two hundred paces. One hundred. Fifty.

The stone steps of Pope Palace lay right before him.

Tang San lifted his foot and stepped onto the first stair.

"Tang San, I knew you'd come here to die."

The words came without warning.

They hadn't reached their ears. Soul Power vibrations had poured straight into their minds—a spiritual strike on the level of a Titled Douluo, forcibly freezing everyone's thoughts for a beat.

Tang San's foot froze on the stair.

A figure emerged from the darkness above the main entrance of Pope Palace.

Dark purple Soul Power surged around her, staining even the night a sickly shade of purple.

Nine Soul Rings lit up in sequence: yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black, black, red.

The pressure released by the final, blood-red Soul Ring sent the dust on the steps grinding outward by three inches.

Bibi Dong.

The Rakshasa Pope's robes didn't stir in the night wind. Soul Power stretched them taut as iron.

Her right hand curled slightly, dark purple light flowing through her palm.

"Your stealth skills are pretty good."

Looking down at them from above, she surveyed everyone on the steps one by one.

"You fooled the patrols, took down nine people, and slipped in through the east gate in less than fifteen minutes. The Tang Sect lives up to its reputation."

Tang San's back was soaked with sweat.

She had watched them from beginning to end. From the moment they climbed the wall, this woman had been monitoring their every move.

The supposed gap during the shift change, the supposed fatal weakness--

It had all been bait.

"Too bad."

Bibi Dong raised her right hand and gently closed it in the air.

Dozens of Soul Power signatures burst to life at once in the darkness around Pope Palace.

Torches ignited, their light spreading outward in ring after ring from either side of the steps until the entire plaza was ablaze.

Elite Spirit Hall Soul Masters surged out of hiding, packed tight as they sealed off every escape route.

Chrysanthemum Douluo Yue Guan stood to the east. Ghost Douluo Gui Mei stood to the west.

The two Titled Douluos released their Soul Power at the same time, forming a flawless encirclement.

Tang San and his companions were trapped on the stone steps in front of Pope Palace.

Ma Hongjun cursed behind them, his Phoenix Wing Martial Soul springing into action as flames flared at his back.

Dai Mubai grabbed his shoulder.

He shook his head.

There was no way out.

Tang San reached for his waist and released the seal on his Spirit Storage Ring.

The Sea God Trident appeared in his hand, its golden blade shining coldly in the torchlight.

"If we can't get away, then we fight."

He stepped onto the second stair, holding the trident in front of him, its tip aimed straight at Bibi Dong.

The Sea God's Power remaining in his body surged into the trident, and golden light blazed forth.

So what if his fortune had been suppressed? With Soul Power at rank eighty-three and a Sea God divine weapon, he could still fight her head-on.

The Blue Silver Emperor Domain spread in an instant, bathing the air within thirty feet in golden-blue light.

The trident left his hand.

It wasn't thrown. He was controlling it. The golden shaft carved a dazzling arc through the air, wrapped in the Sea God's Power as it shot straight for Bibi Dong's chest.

Bibi Dong didn't dodge.

She didn't even move.

Only when the trident came within three feet did she raise her right hand.

Dark purple light solidified in her palm, and a gigantic scythe materialized out of thin air.

Its blade was pitch-black, etched with countless Rakshasa markings, and wreathed in black miasma that corroded everything it touched.

The Rakshasa Demon Scythe.

Clang--!

Gold and black-purple collided violently in the night sky.

A shockwave exploded from the point of impact in every direction. The stone steps in front of Pope Palace were torn up in their entirety; the plaza's paving stones buckled and shattered. Spirit Hall Soul Masters on the outskirts were hurled more than fifty feet by the blast, and those who hadn't managed to protect themselves coughed up blood on the spot.

Both of them were knocked back.

Tang San retreated seven steps, each one stamping a deep crater into the stone steps.

Bibi Dong retreated half a step.

Half a step.

The Rakshasa Demon Scythe was held before her. A fleck of gold clinging to the blade was corroded away by the power of Rakshasa.

The difference between them was plain as day.

Tang San raised his trident again, gathering strength for a second wave of attacks.

Both figures sprang into motion at the same time!

They clashed in midair above Pope Palace. Golden trident light and dark purple scythe blades crossed again and again in the night, every collision blasting out a ring of shockwaves.

Boom--!!

A figure plummeted from the sky, barehanded, and caught the blade of the Rakshasa Demon Scythe by sheer force.

The shockwave blasted a crater half a zhang deep into the plaza. Gravel flew, and dust billowed into the sky.

In the dust, a pair of rough hands clamped down on the blade's edge.

Blood dripped from between his fingers, sizzling against the shattered paving stones. The power of Rakshasa was burning his flesh.

But those hands didn't let go.

The dust cleared.

A burly, middle-aged man stood in front of Tang San.

His hair was a wild mess, and he wore coarse clothes with not a single ornament.

The sleeve on his left arm hung empty.

An amputated arm.

He had only one arm left.

And that one arm was gripping the Rakshasa Demon Scythe, which had unleashed Bibi Dong's full power.

"Bibi Dong--"

Tang Hao looked up.

His one good hand suddenly turned over as the Soul Rings of his Clear Sky Hammer began to shatter.

The first, then the second--terrifying power surged and stacked in an instant, forcing the Rakshasa Demon Scythe up by three inches.

Bibi Dong's pupils contracted sharply.

"Don't you dare harm my son!"