Intertwined and Compatible

"Stay away from my boss!"

Although Sky Dream Ice Silkworm was timid, he didn't hesitate to block Dugu Bo's path at this moment.

Looking at the translucent giant worm floating before him, Dugu Bo did not dare to be the least bit careless, his eyes filled with a touch of gravity.

"Are you saying that young friend Ye is your boss?"

Facing Dugu Bo's inquiry, Tian Meng could not help but reveal a hint of pride on his face.

"Exactly!"

Although Dugu Bo felt slightly relieved upon hearing this, his brows locked tightly together again as he looked at Ye Guchen in the crater.

"This... fellow worm," Dugu Bo weighed his words carefully; facing the ancient and powerful soul beast aura that Tian Meng was feigning, he dared not show the slightest arrogance.

"This old man is somewhat versed in medicine. May I go down and check on young friend Ye's condition? Rest assured, I owe young friend Ye a great favor and would never harm him."

Sky Dream Ice Silkworm's two bean-like eyes stared fixedly at Dugu Bo, golden light flickering within them as if he were judging the truth of his words.

After a moment, he slowly moved his massive body aside, his voice still tinged with vigilance:

"You had best keep your word. If you dare to pull any tricks, I will kill the girl on the side first, even if it costs me my soul!"

Dugu Bo's eye twitched slightly, but he said nothing more and leaped into the bottom of the pit.

Dugu Yan stood at the edge of the crater, clutching her clothes nervously, her gaze shifting back and forth between her grandfather and the giant worm.

Dugu Bo crouched down, extended two fingers to rest on Ye Guchen's wrist, and a gentle, emerald-green soul power cautiously probed into his body.

As the soul power entered, Dugu Bo's brows knitted into a knot.

"Strange, his aura is extremely stable, even abnormally vigorous."

For a moment, Dugu Bo was at a loss.

"Could it be a problem with his mental power?"

With that, Dugu Bo directed a strand of mental power toward the center of Ye Guchen's brow.

However, Ye Guchen's sea of consciousness was already sealed; the mental power Dugu Bo probed with was blocked by a golden barrier, unable to advance even an inch.

"Bizarre!"

Dugu Bo had no choice but to bring Ye Guchen up from the crater.

"How is it?" Sky Dream Ice Silkworm asked urgently, his voice carrying a panic he hadn't even noticed himself.

"I have no way to help either!"

Dugu Bo shook his head.

"At a loss?" Sky Dream Ice Silkworm's voice suddenly rose, and his massive mental power leaked out uncontrollably, pressing down on Dugu Yan at the edge of the pit until her face turned deathly pale and she stumbled back several steps.

Dugu Bo hurriedly stood in front of his granddaughter, releasing his soul power to resist the pressure.

"Fellow worm, calm yourself!" Dugu Bo shouted in a deep voice. "Although this old man is powerless, perhaps there is someone who can try."

Sky Dream Ice Silkworm forcibly suppressed his agitation and asked urgently: "Who?"

"Nine Heart Begonia, the Ye family," Dugu Bo said, enunciating every word.

Ye Qingxian, the current head of the Ye family, walked out of the room, her delicate face showing a hint of exhaustion and helplessness.

She gently closed the door and slowly shook her head at Dugu Bo and the others waiting outside.

"I have no way either."

She sighed, her voice gentle yet filled with powerlessness.

"I have never seen his condition before. Everything looks normal—his complexion is rosy, his breathing is steady, just as if he were asleep, yet he simply cannot wake up. His mental power cannot be probed either; once I attempt to intrude, I am repelled by a solid barrier. It is unheard of."

Meanwhile, inside the Hundred Treasures Pavilion in the Dou II timeline, the air was suffocatingly heavy.

Elder Zhuang withdrew his fingers from Ye Guchen's wrist and likewise shook his head slowly, his wrinkled face full of confusion and shame.

Seeing this, Yan Shaozhe's figure swayed slightly, his emotions appearing somewhat out of control, his voice turning hoarse:

"Is it really impossible to detect any condition at all?"

Elder Zhuang continued to shake his head, his aged fingers unconsciously twisting the corner of his robe.

The condition he had checked was exactly the same as Ye Qingxian's.

Clearly, all vital signs indicated he was normal, yet he remained in a coma, like a shell that still held warmth.

"Xiaotao!"

Yan Shaozhe turned abruptly toward Ma Xiaotao, who stood in the corner with a complex expression, his gaze burning.

"You were with him the whole time before he fell into a coma. Tell me everything that happened before he lost consciousness, word for word!"

Upon hearing this, Ma Xiaotao's cheeks instantly flushed bright red, like a ripe peach.

Was this the kind of thing that could be said in front of so many people?

Her hands were unconsciously twisted together, her knuckles white, wishing she could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

But looking at the unconscious youth on the couch, and then at the grave, anxious expressions of everyone present, she knew the situation was urgent. Gritting her teeth, she pulled Yan Shaozhe into the corner of the room.

Her face flushed red, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum, intermittent and broken:

"He... he first gave me a medicinal herb to help me resolve my evil fire problem. Once that herb entered my stomach, the surging evil fire in my body was truly suppressed and calmed... then..."

Ma Xiaotao lowered her head, poking her fingers, her voice growing smaller and smaller, stuttering and unable to continue.

"Then..."

She almost buried her head into her chest.

Seeing Ma Xiaotao's bashful, desperate appearance, Yan Shaozhe, who had navigated the romantic scene for so many years, understood everything immediately.

He coughed twice, turning his head away in discomfort.

"Ahem! I understand."

Yan Shaozhe crossed his arms, rubbing his chin with one hand, his brows locked in a deep frown as he muttered to himself:

"That shouldn't be... Could Ye Guchen be so drained already? That doesn't seem right..."

Just as everyone was at a loss and only heavy breathing remained in the room, the sound of wheels rolling across the floor came from outside the door.

Everyone looked toward the sound and saw an unkempt old man with hair as messy as a bird's nest and wrinkled robes, carefully pushing another old man in a wheelchair as they slowly approached.

"Mu En! Xuan Zi!"

Seeing who it was, everyone's expressions turned solemn, and they bowed in unison.

Although the old man in the wheelchair was withered, his eyes remained as bright as stars; he was the anchor of Shrek Academy—Dragon God Douluo Mu En.

The one pushing the wheelchair was Taotie Douluo Xuan Zi.

"How is Ye Guchen?"

Mu En's voice was aged but filled with concern, his gaze passing through the crowd to land on the bed.

Elder Zhuang's expression was somewhat unnatural. As Shrek's recognized top healing Spirit Master, he felt ashamed to be completely clueless in such a situation.

He raised a hand to scratch his already sparse hair, answering with a tone of shame:

"I have no clue at all. I've checked everything that should be checked, and there are no problems, yet he simply cannot wake up."

Mu En did not blame him, merely nodding slightly with a peaceful gaze.

He raised a withered hand, signaling Xuan Zi to push him in for a closer look.

The wheelchair slowly reached the bedside, and Mu En extended a hand marked by the passage of time, gently covering Ye Guchen's forehead.

A gentle, extreme spirit power mixed with pure spiritual energy slowly probed inward. However, even for Mu En, at the peak of the ninety-ninth level, a thorough examination yielded no answers.

When he attempted to extend his spiritual power to touch the sea of consciousness, it was blocked by an indestructible golden barrier, unable to advance even an inch further.

Mu En's pupils constricted. He withdrew his palm, a rare look of confusion appearing on his aged face.

"This..."

He pondered for a moment, his gaze deep as he looked at the unconscious youth.

"I have never seen such a strange situation, and what kind of power could possibly block my investigation!"

Hearing this, Xuan Zi, who was standing to the side, could no longer sit still. He understood the weight of a ninety-ninth-level Title Douluo better than anyone.

"How is that possible! Even you..."

Before he could finish, Mu En raised a hand to interrupt him.

"Enough. Although Ye Guchen has fallen into a coma, his aura remains steady, so there is no need for everyone to be overly worried."

Seeing that even Mu En was helpless, though they were unwilling to accept it, the only thing they could do now was wait.

Just as everyone outside was helpless and shrouded in gloom.

Ye Guchen's consciousness drifted, arriving at a strange place deep within his soul.

There was no sky or earth here; as far as the eye could see, there was only surging black and white mist.

This space was like the chaos before the heavens and earth were divided, so silent that he could not even hear his own heartbeat.

In the space, a ferocious and imposing Shark Tooth Sword floated quietly in mid-air, the patterns on the blade clearly visible.

Two strands of sword energy, thin as silk yet radiating monstrous sharpness, circled slowly around the blade—one black and one white.

These two strands of sword energy were the very ones that had deterred the remnant souls of the two Dragon Kings.

They were tiny, their auras so faint they seemed ready to dissipate at any moment, yet they exuded an inviolable dominance. Even the surrounding mist was constantly being sliced and shredded by their sharpness.

Among them, the black sword energy was a full circle thicker than the white one, and the light it emitted was more solid.

"This is?"

There was no panic in Ye Guchen's heart; instead, a strange sense of familiarity welled up.

He raised his hand, extended a finger, and carefully brushed against the two swirling black and white sword energies on the Shark Tooth Sword.

Even though he was currently only a consciousness, the moment his fingertip brushed against the peerless, sharp sword radiance, his skin was silently sliced open, leaving behind a tiny wound.

Wisps of black and white mist coiled around the edges of the wound like maggots on a bone, preventing this minuscule cut from healing.

Ye Guchen brought his finger close to his eyes, carefully sensing the stinging pain and the strange energy fluctuations emanating from his fingertip, his pupils constricting slightly.

"Zongheng Sword Technique!"

He looked around, only then realizing that the ubiquitous, churning black and white mist in this strange space was entirely composed of loose, unformed Zongheng Sword Technique energy!

This discovery shook his heart, and a flash of realization crossed his eyes.

Moved by a thought, Ye Guchen reached out and grasped the hilt of the floating Shark Tooth Sword.

The instant his palm touched the hilt, the two black and white sword auras that had been circling the blade on their own suddenly trembled, as if a spiritual object that had slept for ten thousand years had finally awaited the summons of its master.

They emitted a clear, resonant hum, slithering up his arm like spirit snakes along the cold hilt, and merged into his consciousness without the slightest resistance.

A profound and mysterious enlightenment surged into his heart like a sudden infusion of wisdom.

Ye Guchen closed his eyes involuntarily, and naturally, every move and stance appeared in his mind—the flow of sword light, the shifting of footwork, every detail rendered with absolute clarity.

It was as if these sword techniques had been engraved in the deepest part of his soul and flowed within his blood, merely waiting for a catalyst, a moment of awakening.

"Zongheng Sword Technique!"

Ye Guchen was all too familiar with this set of sword techniques; he had practiced every move thousands of times.

The Shark Tooth Sword let out a light, low moan in his hand, the blade trembling slightly, its tip pointing obliquely at the ground, the cold light on the edge flickering amidst the black and white mist.

Yet, the sword technique appearing in his consciousness now was identical to what he had practiced before, and yet, it was fundamentally different.

If what he had practiced previously was like copying a profound sword manual—tracing the shape without capturing the essence—then what was unfolding in the depths of his consciousness now was more like a peerless sword master teaching him hand-in-hand, imparting a lifetime of learning without reservation.

The force-generating technique of every move, the angle and measure of every shift, even the rhythm of his breathing and the focus of his gaze were all displayed in meticulous detail, without the slightest omission.

Ye Guchen took a deep breath, feeling the power coiled and ready within his consciousness, and then—he moved.

As he took the first step, a ripple imperceptible to the eye spread across the ground beneath his feet, and the black and white mist throughout the consciousness space churned violently, as if stirred by an invisible giant hand.

He swung his sword slowly, the sword momentum heavy and steady, like a mountain range shifting.

Every strike carried a dignified, unshakable kingly aura.

It was not an assassination, nor a skirmish, but a monarch patrolling his own territory, crushing all dissent, advancing without retreat, forging straight ahead.

This was the Zong Sword Technique.

The "Zong" (Vertical) path is that of a king, emphasizing frontal suppression, using absolute power and momentum to leave the opponent with nowhere to hide and no way to block.

The sword style is bold and unrestrained, seeking not complexity or finesse, but only an unstoppable momentum.

The trajectory of every falling sword strike carried the resolute spirit of "I shall go forward even if thousands stand against me."

Ye Guchen's figure darted and shifted through the churning black and white mist, the sword light like a silver vase shattering or mercury spilling onto the ground, continuous and unending.

The white mist that had been drifting aimlessly around him seemed to be drawn by an irresistible attraction, gathering toward the Shark Tooth Sword in his hand.

Wisps of it clung to the cold blade, and as he swung the sword, they followed the movement of his arm, slowly merging into the still-slender white sword aura within Ye Guchen's body.

He could clearly feel that with the completion of every sword move, that white sword aura was growing at a visible rate, from its initial thread-like thinness to something gradually becoming solid and bright.

After executing the thirty-six moves of the Zong Sword Technique without a single hitch, Ye Guchen stood with his sword retracted, his posture as straight as a pine, and exhaled a long breath of turbid air.

That breath shot out from his lips, refusing to dissipate, and transformed into a translucent white sword of air within the black and white mist, shooting forward several yards before slowly dissolving into the churning fog.

Ye Guchen looked down at the Shark Tooth Sword in his hand; on the blade, the black and white sword auras were flowing slowly, like two highly spiritual fish.

The white sword aura was now more than a full circle thicker than before; although it was still not as vast as the black sword aura, it had long since shed its frail appearance, its sharpness exposed, faintly showing signs of being able to stand on equal footing with the black aura.

The moment the proficiency of the Zong Sword Technique caught up to the Heng Sword Technique, something in Ye Guchen's mind seemed to "click" into place, and something else burst open with a roar.

An indescribable sense of wonderful harmony surged through his entire body like an electric current.

The feeling was incredibly profound, as if Yin and Yang were complementing each other, blending like water and milk.

The two sword techniques were no longer acting independently but had faintly formed a complete cycle.

Following this intuition from the deepest part of his soul, Ye Guchen raised his sword-wielding arm once more.

This time, his sword momentum changed abruptly.

He began to dance with the sword again.

However, this time, it was neither the purely bold and unrestrained style of the Zong Sword Technique, nor the treacherous and unpredictable nature of the previous Heng Sword Technique.

His figure rose and fell within the black and white mist, the trajectory of the sword light becoming profound and unfathomable.

At times, he was like a monarch descending upon the world, suppressing all directions; at others, he was like a ghost lurking in the shadows, changing in a hundred ways.

A continuous sound of air being torn apart echoed through the space, and the light and shadow of the black and white sword auras wove a dense, impenetrable net around him, slicing the very space into fragments.

This sense of absolute dominance made Ye Guchen, who was dancing with the sword, cry out in exhilaration.

"Refreshing! Truly refreshing! I never expected that I had been walking the wrong path before..."

"What I see before me now—this is the true Zongheng!"