Ambush in Despair! Tang Hao's Single-Armed Roar to Save His Son: "Don't You Dare Hurt My Child!"

The sky outside had turned pitch black, and the sea breeze, thick with a briny dampness, surged in, whipping the tent flaps with a rhythmic snapping sound.

The Shrek Seven Devils had finished gathering and stood outside the tent.

The thirty-two elites of the Tang Sect were divided into four groups, each checking their hidden weapons and gear.

No one spoke.

Tang San scanned the circle.

"Move out."

Midnight.

In the dense forest three miles outside the east gate of Martial Soul City, over thirty black shadows lay silently in the shrubbery.

Tang San lay at the very front, his Sea God Trident tucked away into his Spirit Storage Ring. He was wrapped head-to-toe in a Night-Walking Suit specially crafted by the Tang Sect, his breathing suppressed to the lowest possible frequency.

His Blue Silver Emperor Grass Scout had already been released—

Hundreds of silver grass filaments, so thin they were invisible to the naked eye, spread along the ground toward the city walls, feeding every movement within a half-mile radius back into his perception.

Two teams of patrolling spirit masters had just converged at the east gate before dispersing in different directions.

According to the intelligence—the next shift change was in a quarter of an hour.

Tang San held up three fingers.

A silent response came from behind: three light taps, fingernails striking hard-wood bracers, a sound impossible for an ordinary person to hear.

A quarter of an hour later.

The torchlight on the east wall showed a distinct gap—two patrol groups were converging on the gatehouse simultaneously for the shift change.

Tang San's hand dropped.

Over thirty black shadows sprang up in unison. The Tang Sect's lightness skills were displayed to their absolute limit in that moment—every step landed precisely on the softest patches of grass, not a single dead twig snapped.

At the base of the wall.

Dai Mubai arrived first, his back pressed against the stone, fingers hooked into the brick seams as he ascended rapidly.

His White Tiger Martial Soul granted him arm strength far exceeding that of an ordinary man; he vaulted onto the ramparts in three breaths.

The top of the wall was empty.

He crouched down and signaled to those below.

Tang San was the second to ascend.

Following closely were Ma Hongjun, Zhu Zhuqing, Oscar, and Ning Rongrong—the Shrek Seven Devils had all scaled the wall within a few breaths.

The Tang Sect elites followed, their toes touching the edges of the crenellations to vault over, their boot soles never even brushing the city bricks.

The entire process did not produce a single sound.

Inside the wall.

Tang San crouched behind a battlement, his Grass Scout spreading out once more.

Three patrol groups. Exactly as the intelligence stated.

The first group was in the corridor west of the Pope Palace, two Soul Ancestor and one Spirit King, their pace lax.

The second group was further away, near the Scripture Library to the north; they could be ignored.

The third group was slightly more troublesome—three Spirit Kings leading six Soul Ancestors, patrolling slowly along the main path in front of the Pope Palace, less than two hundred paces from the main entrance.

Tang San's fingers tapped rapidly on his knee, signaling in Tang Sect hand-code.

Zhu Zhuqing vanished without a sound.

Ten seconds later.

On the main path, the three Spirit Kings stiffened simultaneously—a Nether Slash cut out from the shadows, three sharp bursts of hidden energy striking precisely at the numbing points on the back of their necks.

They didn't even manage a groan before collapsing to the ground.

The six Soul Ancestors hadn't even reacted before hidden weapons pierced their acupoints. The Tang Sect elites flashed from the shadows, dragging the unconscious patrol into the flowerbeds by the roadside.

The path was clear.

The silhouette of the Pope Palace appeared ahead. The massive structure stood silent in the night, the glazed tiles on its roof reflecting the faint starlight.

Tang San quickened his pace.

Two hundred paces. One hundred paces. Fifty paces.

The stone steps of the Pope Palace were right beneath his feet.

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

"Tang San, I knew you would come here to throw your life away."

This sentence came without any warning.

It wasn't heard by the ears—it was a surge of spirit power injected directly into their consciousness, a Title Douluo-level mental shock that forcibly stalled the thoughts of everyone present for a heartbeat.

Tang San's feet were nailed to the steps.

Above the main entrance of the Pope Palace, a figure emerged from the darkness.

Dark purple soul power surged around her, staining the night in a sickly violet hue.

Nine soul rings lit up in sequence—yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black, black, red.

The pressure released by that final blood-red soul ring crushed the dust on the stone steps outward by three inches.

Bibi Dong.

The Rakshasa Pope's ceremonial robes remained motionless in the night wind, stiffened into iron by her soul power.

Her right hand curled slightly, dark purple light swirling in her palm.

"Your stealth techniques are indeed impressive."

She looked down from above, sweeping her gaze over everyone at the foot of the steps one by one.

"Evading the patrols, taking down nine men, and sneaking in from the East Gate—all in less than a quarter of an hour. The foundation of the Tang Sect is well-deserved."

Tang San's back was drenched in sweat.

She had watched them from start to finish. From the moment they scaled the city wall, every move they made had been under this woman's surveillance.

The so-called gap in the guard rotation, the so-called fatal weakness—

It was bait.

"A pity."

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

In the darkness surrounding the Pope Palace, dozens of soul power fluctuations erupted simultaneously.

Torches were ignited, spreading in circles from both sides of the steps, illuminating the entire plaza.

Elite soul masters of the Martial Soul Hall poured out from the shadows, densely sealing off every retreat.

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

The soul power of the two Title Douluos was released in unison, creating an airtight encirclement.

Tang San and his group were trapped on the stone steps before the Pope Palace.

Ma Hongjun cursed under his breath behind him, his Phoenix Wing Martial Soul snapping open automatically as flames rose behind his back.

Dai Mubai pressed a hand onto his shoulder.

He shook his head.

There was no running now.

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

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

"If we can't leave, we fight."

He stepped onto the second stair, holding the trident horizontally before him, its tip pointed directly at Bibi Dong.

The remaining Sea God power within his body surged into the trident, and the golden light flared violently.

So what if his luck was suppressed? With level 83 soul power and a Sea God divine artifact, he could still hold his own in a head-on clash.

The Blue Silver Emperor domain expanded instantly, shrouding the air within a ten-zhang radius in a golden-blue light.

The trident left his hand.

Not a throw, but a command. The golden shaft carved a brilliant arc through the air, carrying the power of the Sea God as it thrust straight at Bibi Dong's chest.

Bibi Dong did not dodge.

She didn't even move.

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

The dark purple light in her palm solidified—a massive scythe emerged from the void.

The blade was pitch black, engraved with dense Rakshasa patterns, radiating a black mist that corroded everything it touched.

Rakshasa Demon Scythe.

CLANG—!

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

A shockwave exploded from the point of impact in all directions; the stone steps in front of the Pope Palace were ripped away, the plaza's paving stones curled and shattered, and the outer Martial Soul Hall soul masters were blown back over ten zhang, those unable to protect themselves vomiting blood on the spot.

Both figures were knocked back.

Tang San retreated seven steps, each one leaving a deep crater in the stone stairs.

Bibi Dong retreated half a step.

Half a step.

She held the Rakshasa Demon Scythe horizontally before her, a tiny golden fragment clinging to the blade, only to be corroded into nothingness by the Rakshasa power.

The gap was clear at a glance.

Tang San raised his trident once more, the second wave of his assault fully charged.

Both figures erupted into motion simultaneously!

They clashed in the air above the Pope Palace—golden trident light and dark purple sickle blades intertwined repeatedly in the night sky, each collision detonating a ripple of shockwaves.

BOOM—!!

A figure descended from the sky, bare-handed, catching the blade of the Rakshasa Demon Scythe head-on.

The shockwave blasted a half-fathom deep crater into the plaza, sending gravel flying and dust billowing into the sky.

Within the dust, a pair of rough, calloused hands clamped tightly onto the edge of the sickle blade.

Blood dripped from between his fingers, sizzling as it hit the shattered stone tiles—the power of the Rakshasa was searing his flesh.

Yet, those hands did not let go.

The dust settled.

A burly, middle-aged man stood before Tang San.

With a mane of messy hair and coarse cloth robes, there was not a hint of adornment on his entire body.

The sleeve of his left arm hung empty.

A severed arm.

He had only this one arm left.

And it was this single arm that was currently pinning down the Rakshasa Demon Scythe, which Bibi Dong had swung with all her might.

"Bibi Dong—"

Tang Hao raised his head.

His only remaining hand flipped violently, and the spirit rings of his Clear Sky Hammer began to shatter.

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

Bibi Dong's pupils constricted sharply.

"Do not dare harm my son!"