Fortune's Fluctuation! Tang Hao: Little Scumbag, How Dare You Insult Your Old Man? Take This Slap!
[Will of Douluo Planet]: Speaking of fortune! Avenger, I was just about to tell you about that.
[Will of Douluo Planet]: I just sensed Tang San's fortune on Douluo Planet suddenly drop. The change wasn't large, but it definitely happened.
"Oh?"
Xiao Chenyu's eyes lit up. He turned a somersault in midair, then steadied his flight.
This was going even more smoothly than he'd expected.
He'd originally thought stealing the manual would merely add another quest branch, and that getting a cultivation technique would be the end of it.
He hadn't expected to affect Tang San's fortune too—two birds with one stone, twice the fun.
[Xiao Chenyu]: At this rate, if I mess with him a few more times, will his fortune drop noticeably?
[Will of Douluo Planet]: In theory, yes—huh?
[Will of Douluo Planet]: Wait, that's strange.
[Xiao Chenyu]: What is it?
[Will of Douluo Planet]: Tang San's fortune just experienced a strange fluctuation, as if something were forcibly tugging at it, but it vanished almost immediately. It happened too fast for me to catch what it was.
[Will of Douluo Planet]: I don't know what happened, but I have a feeling it's definitely nothing good.
[Will of Douluo Planet]: Fortune doesn't fluctuate for no reason. Some outside force must be interfering.
Xiao Chenyu frowned slightly.
"Fortune fluctuating? Did something happen to Tang San?"
[Xiao Chenyu]: Let me know right away if anything changes. If an outside force really is interfering, we need to prepare in advance.
[Will of Douluo Planet]: Got it! I'll monitor Tang San's fortune online 24/7 and report the moment anything happens! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧
Meanwhile.
In the back hills of Holy Soul Village.
The morning mist had mostly cleared.
The first rays of sunlight streamed through the leaves and fell upon the clearing.
Moonlight illuminated the scattered leaves covering the ground and a small figure kneeling among them.
The figure was bruised and battered.
Blood-flecked drool hung from the corner of his mouth.
Yet he kept mechanically slapping himself.
"Smack."
"Clear Sky is a dog."
"Smack."
"Clear Sky is a dog."
Tang San's cheeks had swollen badly, turning red-purple. At a glance, he looked as if he had two walnuts stuffed in his mouth.
His voice, once loud and clear, had dwindled to a barely audible whisper.
Every word scraped out of him like sandpaper against glass.
His throat had long since been injured by the shocks and hoarse from shouting.
The metallic tang of blood filled his throat.
But his hand didn't stop, and he didn't dare stop it.
The elder had said he had to shout a thousand times.
One shout short, and the Tang Sect wouldn't accept him.
One shout short, and he wouldn't atone for his past-life sins.
Nothing mattered more than becoming an inner disciple of the Tang Sect!
At that moment.
Back at his home.
Tang Hao woke up because he was hungry.
He rolled over in bed and, eyes still closed, habitually sniffed toward the kitchen.
"Hmm?"
He couldn't smell breakfast.
Tang Hao frowned and opened his eyes.
Every morning, before Tang San woke up, the boy would make breakfast, leave it warming in the pot, and then head up the mountain to train.
He'd kept up that routine without fail since he was a little over two years old, rain or shine.
Today, the pot was empty, and the stove was cold.
"Has that kid gotten addicted to training?"
Tang Hao walked around the house, then called "Xiao San" twice in the yard. No one answered.
He glanced at the sky.
The sun was already up.
According to their usual routine, Tang San should have been back half an hour ago.
He picked up his wine gourd and staggered toward the back hills.
At first, he didn't think much of it.
Tang San was only five, but he'd always been more sensible than a child should be.
More reliable than his own father, even.
Maybe he'd chased some wild rabbits too far, or found some medicinal herbs on the mountain and lost track of time.
But when Tang Hao neared the back hills, he heard Tang San's voice.
"Clear Sky is a dog."
"?"
Tang Hao's footsteps stopped abruptly.
He thought he'd misheard.
The wind was strong in the woods, and birdsong and insectsong mingled together. It was easy enough to mistake what you heard.
"Clear Sky is a dog."
"?!"
This time, he heard it loud and clear.
The hoarse child's voice was unmistakably shouting, "Clear Sky is a dog."
Not a word out of place.
Clear Sky.
That was his title!
The name he'd made for himself across the continent—the Clear Sky Douluo!
The peerless ruthless man who had smashed the Spirit Hall Pope with a single hammer!
And now his own son was calling him a dog while slapping himself in the face.
Tang Hao's face instantly turned black as the bottom of a pot.
He gripped his wine gourd and strode toward the source of the voice. Without realizing it, he cracked the mountain path beneath his feet.
He'd see for himself what his "dear son" was doing in the back hills!
Tang Hao charged into the clearing.
The sight before him made him freeze for a moment.
His five-year-old son, Tang San, was kneeling in a pile of fallen leaves.
His cheeks were swollen like risen dough.
Blood-flecked drool hung from the corner of his mouth.
He was half-conscious.
Even with his eyes unfocused, his little hand kept slapping his face as if on autopilot.
"Smack."
"Clear Sky is—"
Before the fourth "dog" could leave his mouth, Tang Hao, furious beyond measure, slapped him.
"SMACK!!!"
That slap hit harder than all the hundred slaps Tang San had given himself put together.
Tang San went flying, rolling three times through the fallen leaves before coming to a stop.
A clear red handprint appeared on his face, layered over his already swollen cheeks. It was a shocking sight.
"Xiao San! What are you doing?!"
Tang Hao roared, his voice shaking pine needles loose from the branches overhead.
"?"
Tang San lay sprawled on the ground, seeing stars as his ears rang.
But that slap had also jolted him completely awake from the effects of the Hallucination Powder.
The Tang Sect Elders' illusions receded like a tide.
The Law Enforcement Hall's gaze vanished.
All that remained before him was a disheveled man, furious and reeking of alcohol.
His own father... Tang Hao!
"I... I was just..."
Tang San looked around in a daze.
There was no one else in the clearing but him and Tang Hao.
No Tang Sect elders, no gray robes, no imposing gaze from the Law Enforcement Hall.
Just a mess of fallen leaves in the clearing, now that the morning mist had lifted.
And there he was, sprawled on the ground with blood all over his face, his cheeks burning as if they'd been scorched.
Then his memories came flooding back.
That gray-robed man.
That voice claiming to be a Tang Sect Elder.
Himself kneeling and kowtowing as he begged for mercy—and respectfully pulling the item out of his crotch with both hands, raising it above his head as he handed it over—
the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record!
"Oh no!!!"
Tang San's face instantly turned deathly pale, even paler than it had been when he was slapped.
He had a terrible feeling.
He hurriedly reached down to check his crotch.
"Xiao San?"
Tang Hao watched Tang San's bizarre movements with a frown, restraining his anger.
Tang San couldn't spare a thought for his father. All he cared about was the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record.
Soon, he discovered that his crotch was empty.
He searched himself from head to toe, even taking off his shoes and checking the soles.
Nothing, nothing at all!
The Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record... was gone!