Tomb

Over thirty miles west of Heaven Dou City.

A desolate, grassy slope.

Far from the main road, far from any village or town, there was not a soul in sight. Only the wild grass covering the slope bowed low in the wind, as if silently kowtowing to someone.

Halfway up the slope, a new grave had appeared.

It was neither large nor tall. The yellow earth was piled crookedly, as if the hands of the person who dug it had been trembling, unable to smooth the mound. There was no tombstone, only a slab of bluestone picked up from the roadside, with a few characters carved crookedly into it using something sharp.

Grave of Ning Zha.

The strokes were shallow but carved with great force; stone dust still remained in the grooves.

Three incense sticks were planted before the grave, but the smoke was thin, scattering as soon as the wind caught it, as if even the incense refused to linger here.

Yin Suzhi knelt before the grave.

She had been kneeling for a long time. The soil beneath her knees had seeped into two dark stains, and her skirt was covered in grass blades and mud splatters. Her hair hung in disarray over her shoulders, and she made no move to brush it away even when the wind blew it across her face.

In her hands, she cradled a coarse cloth bundle containing a small garment Ning Zha had worn while he was alive.

It was washed clean and folded neatly.

"Zha'er."

Her voice was so hoarse it was barely audible, as if her throat were stuffed with rags.

"Mother has brought you out."

"Far... far away from those people."

The wind swept over the crest of the slope, the wild grass bowing in unison to reveal the fresh yellow earth of the grave mound.

Yin Suzhi pressed her face against the bluestone slab, her forehead resting against those crooked characters, her shoulders trembling violently.

"It is Mother who is useless... Mother who has no ability..."

"Mother could not even protect your life... could not even secure a place for you to rest after your death..."

"Zha'er, do not blame Mother."

"Mother can only bury you here."

"Though this place is a bit remote... but look—" She wiped her face and looked around, her voice trembling.

"From here, you can see the walls of Heaven Dou City. You can see the sunrise. The grass grows well, and it will surely bloom with flowers in the spring..."

She could not continue.

She covered her face with both hands and wept in silent agony.

Ning Jin and Ning Mu stood behind their mother, their eyes rimmed with red.

Watching their mother collapse over that small grave, her body convulsing with sobs, they could do nothing. They could change nothing.

Just as it had been on that long street yesterday.

They had stood rooted to the spot, unable to move.

They had watched with their own eyes as their youngest brother drew his sword and took his own life before them.

Ning Jin clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. He opened his mouth several times, but in the end, he only stepped forward, knelt before his brother's grave, and struck his head against the ground three times.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

His forehead struck the muddy earth, covering his face in wet soil.

"Third Brother." Ning Jin's voice was hoarse and low. "Big Brother is useless. Big Brother... I am sorry."

Ning Mu knelt down as well, his shoulders shaking as he kowtowed. He was younger and could not hold back; tears splashed onto the ground one by one.

"Third Brother... Second Brother will... will definitely become stronger in the future..."

The wind whipped across the grassy slope, carrying a low, mournful wail.

It was impossible to tell if it was the sound of the wind or the sound of human grief.

Yin Suzhi knelt before the grave for a long time, until the sun had completely sunk below the horizon.

The sky turned dark.

Ning Jin stepped forward and gently took his mother by the arm.

"Mother... let us go back. It is getting dark."

Yin Suzhi did not move.

"Mother." Ning Mu also approached, crouching beside her to wipe the mud and tears from her face with his sleeve. "Brother... he would not want to see you like this..."

Yin Suzhi stared blankly at Ning Mu for a moment.

Then, as if all her strength had been drained away, she slumped limply against Ning Jin.

"Let us go back."

Her voice was as light as a falling leaf.

Ning Jin and Ning Mu supported Yin Suzhi on either side and slowly descended the grassy slope.

The three figures grew smaller and smaller in the twilight, drifting further and further away.

Until they vanished at the end of the official road.

The grassy slope returned to silence.

As dusk closed in, the final sliver of sunset sank beneath the horizon, staining the entire desolate hillside a somber, dark indigo.

The chirping of insects rose from deep within the grass.

The lonely, fresh grave sat on the slope like a curled-up child.

Just then.

Two figures appeared soundlessly above the grassy slope.

Wrapped in black robes, their hoods pulled low.

They were the very same two who had stood on the outermost edge of the crowd on the main street earlier that day.

It was unclear when they had arrived, or how long they had been standing there. They seemed like shadows birthed from the twilight itself.

The one on the left was shorter, but his shoulders were exceptionally broad; his silhouette beneath the black robe was thick and solid, like a moving iron tower.

The one on the right was taller and well-proportioned; though equally burly, he possessed a more slender frame.

The two stood side by side before the grave, silent for a long time.

The wind whipped the hems of their robes, revealing the dark, fitted combat gear beneath.

The one on the right spoke first.

His voice was deep and resonant, like the muffled beat of a drum.

"This child... what a pity."

"Only seven years old. Such temperament, such mettle—in all my years, I haven't seen many among those who call themselves geniuses of the spirit master world."

He crouched down, his gaze falling upon the slab of bluestone serving as a tombstone.

Grave of Ning Zha.

"Ning Zha." He read the name aloud, shook his head, and let out a long sigh. "If he could have grown to adulthood, even without a spirit, he surely would have been a man of indomitable spirit."

The man on the left did not speak, merely watching the grave mound in silence.

After a moment, the man on the left slammed a fist into his own thigh.

"Big Brother! I really wanted to intervene back there!"

His tone was filled with long-suppressed indignation.

"That old bastard acting like a tyrant in the street, using his seven spirit rings to bully a seven-year-old child! When he was there flaunting his power, I wanted nothing more than to smash his head into his own stomach with one strike of my staff!"

"Do you think I didn't want to?"

The voice was much steadier than the other's, carrying a weariness born of having seen too much of the world.

"But if we had acted, we would have had no justification."

The man on the left stood up abruptly, his voice lowered, but the fury in his tone was nearly overflowing.

"No justification? Big Brother! A seven-year-old child! He did the right thing! He saved someone! And then? So many people there, so many adults, and not one stood up to speak for him! His own father trampled him underfoot! Those collateral elders couldn't wait for him to die! That old man surnamed Yu—a seven-ring Spirit Saint, forcing a seven-year-old child to pay with his life—"

His voice grew heavier, the words squeezed out from between his teeth by the end.

"With our status, what are we afraid of?!"

The man on the right remained silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head.

"Second Brother."

His voice was very soft, but it carried an unquestionable weight.

"Have you thought about it?"

"If we reveal our identities, what kind of trouble would that trigger?"

He turned his head slightly, revealing a sharp, angular jawline beneath his hood.

"We do not represent ourselves. We represent Spirit Hall."

"The Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan and the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect are both among the Upper Three Sects. While they may not be openly opposed to Spirit Hall on the surface, you and I both know the nature of their true allegiances."

"If we rashly interfere in the disputes between the collateral and direct lines of the two great sects, and word gets out—that Spirit Hall is meddling in the internal affairs of the Upper Three Sects—once that label is pinned on us, it will only invite endless trouble."

The black-robed man on the left fell silent.

He knew his brother was right.

But sometimes, being "right" is harder to bear than being "wrong."

"Then what if..." He took a step back, changing his approach, his voice dropping lower. "Big Brother, what if we don't reveal our identities? What if we just forcefully rescue the child? Wouldn't that save us from all that trouble?"

The black-robed man on the right glanced at him.

That look was profound, as if he had already considered that possibility.

"And then?"

He countered.

"And then, will the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan just let it go?"

The person on the left was slightly stunned.

"That child—he cut his flesh and scraped his bones in public, took his own life in public. Why did he do that? Wasn't it precisely so he wouldn't implicate his parents or his clan?"

"If we rescue the person, and the people from the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan can't find us and have no way to retaliate, who will they target instead?"

The black-robed figure on the right didn't finish, but the meaning was already clear.

If the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan couldn't find the person, they would implicate the innocent.

The first to suffer would still be Ning Zha's parents, still that branch of the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect.

Perhaps even the girl Ning Zha had saved.

The tone of the black-robed figure on the right was calm, as if stating an established fact.

"Save one, harm three."

"Do you think... if that child were still alive, he would be willing to see such an outcome?"

This sentence was like a needle, piercing accurately into the softest part of the left black-robed figure's heart.

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

After a long while.

"Sigh—"

A long sigh fell heavily into the twilight.

He wasn't sighing for himself.

He was sighing for this world.

Since when did saving a child who acted with chivalry and righteousness become a matter of hesitation and weighing pros and cons?

Since when did "doing the right thing" itself become a sin?

The two fell silent once more.

The night wind began to rise, scattering the ashes of the three incense sticks before the grave across the ground. From the desolate slopes in the distance came the howling of wild dogs, bleak and grating.

The black-robed figure on the left suddenly frowned.

"Big brother."

His gaze swept around the grave mound.

"This place is so remote. No village in front, no shop behind. There isn't a soul for miles."

He paused.

"What if a wild dog comes one day... and digs up the grave..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

But both men understood what that meant.

A fresh grave in the wilderness, unguarded. No human presence for miles. Once those wild dogs caught the scent, digging through the loose, fresh soil would take no more than the time it takes to eat a meal.

When that time comes—

A seven-year-old child.

When he was alive, no one was willing to protect him.

After he died, not even a peaceful grave was left for him.

If even this final resting place couldn't be preserved—

The brows of the person on the right furrowed deeply.

After a moment of silence, he spoke slowly.

"Very well."

His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to himself.

"We couldn't help him while he was alive. If we stand idly by regarding this small matter after his death, then we are unworthy of being human."

He looked at the person on the left.

"Leave a trace of aura. Yours and mine will be enough."

The eyes of the person on the left lit up, and he nodded heavily.

"Exactly what I was thinking!"

The two exchanged a glance and stepped back half a pace simultaneously.

Then, at almost the exact same moment—

Two torrents of soul power surged forth from within their bodies!

In an instant, a gale erupted across the grassy slope!

The wild grass flattened in unison under the violent shockwave, spreading frantically across the ground. Soil flew into the air and gravel tumbled about. Even a few night birds nesting in the distant shrubbery were startled, flapping into the sky with shrill cries.

Their black robes whipped violently in the air currents, their hoods blown back to reveal two faces weathered by time.

The man on the left had a resolute face, thick ink-black brows, and eyes as sharp as a falcon's, with a short beard lining his jaw.

The man on the right had a square face and deep, reserved eyes, his brow carrying an air of natural, unforced authority.

Both men raised their right hands simultaneously, fingers splayed, palms facing the sky.

As their soul power surged—

Two martial souls materialized out of thin air!

They were two long staffs, pitch-black from end to end.

The shafts were slender, roughly seven feet long, and possessed a deep, metallic luster. Dense, intricate patterns covered the shafts like scales, refracting a faint, dark golden light under the moonlight.

And upon each shaft—

A dragon.

The dragon's body coiled around the staff, winding upward from the base. Its scales were menacing, its claws powerful, and its head stood proudly at the tip, eyes wide and fangs bared. Though they were mere projections of martial souls, a living glint seemed to swirl within those dragon eyes, radiating an astonishing might.

Coiling Dragon Staff!

Two identical Coiling Dragon Staffs!

Few in this world knew of this martial soul. Yet, anyone who did would see their expression change the moment the name was spoken.

For those who possessed this martial soul were currently only two in number.

They were two of the elders from the Offering Hall, the core of Spirit Hall—

Thousand Might Douluo, Qiangu Jun.

Demon Subduing Douluo, Qiangu Po.

Title Douluos!

And not just any, but Super Douluos of level 96 or higher!

Across the entire Douluo Continent, those who could reach this level could be counted on one's fingers!

Yet at this moment, two Super Douluos were actually preparing to take action, standing guard over the grave of a child.

"Good child."

Qiangu Po's voice was low, carrying a rare touch of gentleness.

"Rest in peace."