Tang Ya is Actually Tang San's Descendant?

"Hmm?" Zichuan didn't immediately grasp what this had to do with the excitement of the God of Destruction.

"Stupid!" the God of Destruction sneered. "Ten thousand years ago, that Tang San's father was the Clear Sky Douluo Tang Hao, and his mother was a hundred-thousand-year-old Blue Silver Emperor! He inherited the Twin Martial Souls of the Clear Sky Hammer and the Blue Silver Emperor! Later, when he ascended to the God Realm, his daughter Tang Wutong inherited the Radiant Goddess Butterfly and the Clear Sky Hammer, but not the Blue Silver Grass. But think about it: with Tang San's hypocritical nature and his 'deeply affectionate' persona, was he really that well-behaved before ascending to the God Realm? Did he not leave behind any... well, souvenirs on the Douluo Continent?"

Zichuan froze, then drew a sharp breath, instantly understanding the implication in the God of Destruction's words: "You mean... Tang Ya might be a descendant of Tang San?!"

"What else?" The God of Destruction's voice was filled with the pleasure of malicious speculation. "Her surname is Tang, her martial soul is Blue Silver Grass, yet it isn't the Clear Sky Hammer! What are the odds of that? And look at this Tang Sect—ten thousand years of heritage, yet it's becoming increasingly pathetic. By the time it reached this little girl, it was almost extinct, yet it never completely died out; there's always some stroke of luck keeping it on life support... Doesn't it look like someone is arranging things from the shadows, but doesn't dare to be too obvious for fear of being discovered by the one at home?"

The more he spoke, the more he felt his theory held water, his tone growing even more disdainful. "And all that talk about being with Xiao Wu for a lifetime, stopping at nothing to resurrect her... Ha! Tell that to the ghosts! Who knows, he might have spread his seed in some obscure corner long ago! This Tang Ya might just be his illegitimate bloodline in the mortal world! How else do you explain this Blue Silver Grass inheritance?"

Listening to this wild "conspiracy theory" from the God of Destruction, Zichuan found himself at a loss for how to refute it. Thinking about it carefully, Tang Ya's background in the original story was indeed somewhat vague, and the decline of the Tang Sect was full of suspicious circumstances. If she truly were a bloodline left behind by Tang San, but hidden for some reason—perhaps fear of Xiao Wu finding out? Or the rules of the God Realm? Not daring to protect her openly, he could only let her fend for herself, even letting her suffer through disasters because she was tainted by his karma... This plotline actually felt a bit melodramatic yet compelling.

However, now was clearly not the time to delve into Tang San's history of romantic entanglements. The battle in the arena had reached its final moments. The barrier created by the old woman's desperate fourth soul skill shattered under the concentrated fire of the Iron Blood Sect. The last two Tang Sect disciples were killed on the spot, and the old woman herself vomited blood from severe injuries, collapsing to the ground with her aura as faint as a candle in the wind.

"Grandma!!" Tang Ya let out a heart-wrenching cry, throwing herself beside the old woman. Her small body trembled violently from fear and grief, but in those tear-filled eyes, beyond despair, there was a heartbreaking, wolf-like stubbornness and hatred. She stared fixedly at the approaching members of the Iron Blood Sect, especially the Soul Ancestor leader, Tie Bi, who was wielding a Ghost Head Blade with a lecherous expression. Her small hands gripped her useless sleeve arrow so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"Little girl, out of options now, aren't you?" Tie Bi walked over slowly, his gaze lingering on Tang Ya's small face—which, despite its youth, already showed signs of future beauty. He licked his lips and said, "Wouldn't it have been better to just do this from the start? Why let these old fools die for nothing? Come with uncle, and later..."

Before he could finish his filth, his peripheral vision caught sight of a small boy standing under a large tree not far behind Tang Ya. The boy looked to be only six or seven years old, with black hair and black eyes, wearing simple, coarse clothing. His small face was expressionless as he watched the scene quietly, his mouth seemingly chewing on something. He appeared so abruptly, yet so naturally, as if he had been there the whole time and no one had noticed.

Tie Bi frowned, a strange feeling flashing through his mind, but it was quickly replaced by impatience. Just some wild brat who popped out of nowhere, probably from a nearby village, scared senseless by the battle. "Where did this little brat come from?" Tie Bi barked, waving his blood-stained Ghost Head Blade. "Get lost! Go home and find your mother for some milk! Don't get in the way here!"

The other Iron Blood Sect disciples noticed Zichuan as well, but no one took him seriously. What threat could a child of that size possibly pose? He was likely just someone who had wandered in by mistake. Tang Ya also heard the shout and looked back through tear-blurred eyes. Seeing Zichuan, she was stunned for a moment, clearly not expecting a child to be in such a place. Immediately, a flash of pity and anxiety crossed her eyes, and she used all her strength to shout: "Kid! Run! Get out of here! Quick!" Even trapped in a desperate situation, she was still thinking of warning a stranger to flee. This kindness made Zichuan's heart stir slightly.

However, Zichuan acted as if he hadn't heard Tie Bi's shout or Tang Ya's cry. He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping calmly over the remaining members of the Iron Blood Sect, counting under his breath: "One, two, three... nine, ten. Hmm, ten of them, one Soul Ancestor, just right." His voice was very soft, yet clearly audible to the soul masters.

"Just right? What's just right?" Tie Bi was taken aback, not understanding what the child was muttering about.

Zichuan didn't answer. He simply sighed softly, as if confirming a trivial matter, then lifted his foot and walked toward Tang Ya and Tie Bi at a leisurely pace.

"Kid, are you looking for death?!" Seeing the child not only failing to run but actually walking toward him, a flash of ferocity appeared on Tie Bi's face. Although he didn't think a child could do anything, being ignored like this still annoyed him. He decided to casually swat this reckless brat away before dealing with Tang Ya.

However, before he could make a move, Zichuan had already reached Tang Ya's side. He even naturally shifted half a step, placing Tang Ya—who was trembling in fear but still stubbornly shielding the old woman—slightly behind him. This movement was casual, yet it left both Tang Ya and Tie Bi stunned.

"You..." Tang Ya looked up at the boy, who was half a head shorter than her and whose back looked somewhat thin, her mouth opening as she struggled for words. She only felt that this boy who had suddenly appeared possessed an indescribable calmness, completely out of place in the bloody and tragic environment.

Tie Bi, on the other hand, was so angry he laughed: "Ha! You little brat, trying to play the hero? Are you even old enough to grow hair?" He couldn't be bothered to waste more words. A fierce light flashed in his eyes as his third soul ring lit up. A sickly green glow erupted from the Ghost Head Blade, bringing with it a sharp blade-wind as he slashed down toward Zichuan's head! He wasn't using his full strength; using a third soul skill on a child was already "doing him a favor."

Facing a strike capable of severely wounding an ordinary Soul Grand Master, Zichuan's face remained expressionless. He didn't even look at the incoming blade, simply raising his right hand.

He clenched his fist.

Then, he threw a punch directly at the blade glowing with green light.

There was no flash of soul power, no manifestation of soul rings; it was just the purest, simplest punch.

"CLANG—!!!"

The explosive sound of metal striking metal was so piercing it made one's eardrums ache!

The scene they had anticipated—the child being sent flying, bones shattered and tendons snapped—did not occur.