Tang San Collapses, Rushing to Inherit the Sea God Position?

The blood on the plaza had yet to dry.

But Martial Soul City had already exploded.

The news began to spread from the plaza in front of the Pope Palace—

First, it was the night patrol, then the residents of the South City jolted awake, followed by the barracks, the markets, the academies, and the taverns.

Overnight, it swept through every street and alley in the city.

"Tang San launched a night raid on Martial Soul City, only to have Clear Sky Douluo's right arm severed by a single strike from Her Highness the Saintess!"

"Over thirty elites of the Tang Sect have been routed!"

"The Shrek Seven Devils scrambled out of the East Gate with their tails between their legs!"

When dawn broke, the largest teahouse in the South City hadn't even opened its Space Gate, yet a long line had already formed at the entrance.

They weren't there for tea; they were there to fish for details.

The shopkeeper was surrounded three layers deep while trying to set up the door panels, drowned in questions before he could even open his mouth.

Street vendors stopped selling their wares, gathering in clusters to spit and gesture wildly.

An apprentice from the blacksmith shop rushed out, still clutching an unquenched iron billet:

"Is it true? Clear Sky Douluo? That's the number one man in the world!"

The auntie selling steamed buns nearby rolled her eyes:

"That 'number one in the world' title is ancient history. He's missing two arms now, so he's nothing."

"Hey—! That was cut off by Her Highness the Saintess! She was only level sixty-nine half a month ago, and now she's lopped off a Title Douluo's arm with one sword strike. What kind of god-tier speed is this?"

"Don't you know? It's the Celestial Master Betrothal Gift! That Severing Thought Sword is the third betrothal gift!"

"Celestial Master."

The moment those two words were uttered, everyone fell silent for a heartbeat.

Then, the noise grew even louder and more boisterous, the topic shifting from the battle itself to that engagement which had shaken the entire continent.

No one doubted anymore whether that man named Shen Yichen was just putting on a show.

Three betrothal gifts, three celestial phenomena.

The final gift had severed the arm of Clear Sky Douluo directly on the battlefield.

Was there any need to question it?

Pope Palace, main hall.

The victory banquet was laid out across thirty-six tables.

This was the highest-spec internal banquet Martial Soul Hall had held in nearly twenty years.

The entire Elder Hall was present, the masters of the major branch halls had rushed over overnight, and a thousand elites directly under the Pope Palace lined the corridors on both sides.

Bibi Dong sat in the seat of honor, wearing a brand-new ceremonial robe, dark purple embroidered with gold, making the light in the hall feel heavy.

Her right hand was no longer wrapped in medicinal bandages, but the residual black patterns between her fingers flickered in and out of sight under the candlelight.

Hu Liena sat in the first seat to her left.

This was a position previously reserved only for the Great High Priest.

Some in the hall noticed this and exchanged secret glances. No one dared to speak.

Xie Yue was absent—three broken ribs and two fractures in his sternum; the military doctor said he would be bedridden for at least half a month.

Hu Liena had gone to see him; he was leaning against the headboard, looking sickly, and had told her, "Don't bring me soup, bring me meat," before turning over to sleep again.

As long as he was alive, it was enough.

When Bibi Dong raised her wine cup, everyone in the hall froze in unison.

She did not stand. She simply sat there, the amber liquid in her cup sloshing slightly, candlelight dancing on the surface of the wine.

"Last night's battle."

The four words pressed down, and the hall became so quiet one could hear a pin drop.

"Tang San led the Shrek Seven Devils and the elites of the Tang Sect in a night raid on our Martial Soul City, attempting to destroy the Saintess's treasure, and were routed on the spot."

A pause.

"Clear Sky Douluo Tang Hao forcibly intervened using the Ring Detonation technique, and was disarmed by Her Highness the Saintess with a single strike of the Severing Thought Sword."

Someone in the hall gasped.

Even though the news had already spread the night before, hearing it directly from the Pope's own mouth carried a completely different impact.

Bibi Dong's gaze fell upon Hu Liena.

"Hu Liena."

Hu Liena set down her chopsticks and stood up.

"Half a month ago, you were still a level 69 Soul Saint. Today, with a cultivation of level 84, you stood head-to-head against Tang San, severed the arm of the Clear Sky Douluo with the Severing Thought Sword, and protected the safety of our Martial Soul Hall."

Bibi Dong raised her cup.

"The entire Martial Soul Hall, I toast you."

Thirty-six tables rose in unison.

Wine cups were held high, and the sound of hundreds of them clinking together merged into one.

"A toast to Her Highness the Holy Maiden!"

The sound surged out from the hall, passed through the corridors, and reached the ears of the thousands of elite troops lined up outside. Immediately after, an even louder, unified roar erupted from outside.

"A toast to Her Highness the Holy Maiden--!"

Hu Liena stood where she was, the wine cup in her hand held at chest level.

The wound on her left shoulder had already been treated, but raising her arm still pulled at the pain. A thin, long medicinal patch covered the scratch on her cheek, obscuring most of it.

She drained the wine in her cup in one gulp.

Spicy. It rushed into her nasal cavity, stinging her nose and making it ache.

As she set the cup down, her peripheral vision swept across the hundreds of faces in the hall.

There was admiration, terror, and fervor—as well as the gaze cast by Bibi Dong, which carried a certain profound meaning.

Hu Liena lowered her eyes.

These honors.

These gazes.

Not a single one of them was earned through her own ability.

The bloodline awakening granted by the Primordial Spirit Bead, the stabilized foundation provided by the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron, the single strike that severed an arm delivered by the Severing Thought Sword—

Strip away these three things, and she was still that same Soul Saint stuck at level 69, unable to take even half a step forward.

But she would not say it out loud.

This was what he gave her. She accepted it. Therefore, it was hers.

Three days later.

Heaven Dou Empire, frontline command post.

The commander's tent was deathly silent.

A dozen generals stood in a circle around the sand table, no one speaking.

The sand table was marked with the troop deployments at Jialing Pass, with red and blue flags arranged in an interlocking pattern. The blue represented the Heaven Dou allied forces. At this moment, those blue flags looked exceptionally thin.

The Marshal sat in the innermost position of the tent, clutching a secret report in his hand, his knuckles pinched white.

The report stated—Tang Hao had lost both arms, his cultivation had plummeted, and he would be unable to participate in the battle in the short term. Tang San was wounded, his inheritance of the Sea God was hindered, and his return date was unknown.

These two men were the Heaven Dou allied forces' greatest trump cards in the battle of Jialing Pass.

The Marshal slammed the report onto the table.

"The reinforcement plan is suspended."

"Marshal—"

"Suspended."

There was no room for negotiation.

The generals in the tent looked at each other, their Adam's apples bobbing.

Reinforcements suspended.

This meant that the current forces at Jialing Pass would have to withstand a potential offensive from the Spirit Hall Empire on their own.

And the woman who had severed the Clear Sky Douluo's arm with one strike was now standing in Martial Soul Hall, backed by three heaven-defying artifacts and an unfathomable Celestial Master.

Morale—it no longer needed to be described as "low."

In the frontline camp, the version of events circulating among the soldiers was ten times more exaggerated than the secret report.

Some said that the Celestial Master could destroy a city with a wave of his hand; others said that the Holy Maiden of Martial Soul Hall was already a God King-level existence.

Rumors killed more effectively than the truth.

Sea God Island.

Inside the Medicine Hut, the thick scent of medicinal herbs had almost condensed into a physical substance.

Tang Hao lay on the couch.

Both arms were wrapped in thick medicinal bandages, layer upon layer, from shoulder to fingertip.

His right arm—the one severed by the Severing Thought Sword—had been barely reattached after a three-day and three-night surgical procedure.

However, the residual Dao energy within his bones could not be eradicated.

Seventy percent of his meridians had been reconnected, but the remaining thirty percent had been eroded by Dao rhymes and were already necrotic.

The military doctor's exact words were:

"The arm is saved, but the soul power output of this limb will never exceed forty percent of its peak for the rest of your life."

Forty percent.

For a Titled Douluo, forty percent was as good as being crippled.

Tang San sat on a low stool by the bedside, looking at the frail Tang Hao, and made a crazy decision:

"Spare no cost to accelerate the progress of the Eighth Sea God Trial and the ninth trial."

"I must become the true Sea God as soon as possible!"