Get to Know Me Again, Bone Douluo

A faint smile touched Yang Xing's eyes as he stepped inside. There was none of the timidity one might expect before facing the powerful Titled Douluo who had once frightened him. There was only calmness.

Gu Rong did not look up. His withered hand lifted the teacup to his lips, and he took a sip.

He smacked his lips.

His expression was mild, as casual as if he had been sitting in his own home his entire life.

Yang Xing said nothing either.

He walked to the empty Grand Tutor's chair on the right side of the table, swept back the hem of his sleeping robe, and sat down. Reaching for the teapot on the table, he poured himself a cup.

Hot water filled the cup, tea leaves swirling within as their fragrance drifted through the air.

Yang Xing raised the cup, brought it to his nose for a sniff, then took a sip.

"Fine tea."

He praised it sincerely.

His voice was not loud, but in the silent main hall, it was like a pebble falling into a deep pool.

At last, the skeletal figure opposite him moved. Gu Rong set his teacup on the table with a light tap.

Then he turned his head.

For the first time, those clouded old eyes sunken deep in their sockets examined Yang Xing head-on.

Under the lamplight, a young man clad in a brocade sleeping robe, his hair in disarray and colorful lipstick marks still lingering on his face, held a teacup and sipped from it. He looked as composed as though he were entertaining an old friend.

Gu Rong's brow creased slightly.

"Not afraid?"

The hoarse voice squeezed from his throat. It had the texture of wind rustling dead leaves, exceptionally grating in the night.

Yang Xing set down his teacup and glanced at him.

"Afraid of what?"

Gu Rong stared at him. A trace of scrutiny appeared in those murky old eyes.

"Do you know who I am?"

Yang Xing took another sip of tea. Rather than answer directly, he tilted his head, his tone carrying a hint of apology.

"When did Bone Douluo arrive? I wasn't even home." He set down his cup and spread his hands. "How rude of me. How rude."

Gu Rong's eyelid twitched.

He was not surprised. Or rather, that flicker of surprise lasted less than half a second before it was replaced by an understanding that said, Just as I thought.

"You know me."

It was not a question. It was a statement.

A faint smile appeared on Gu Rong's gaunt face. Combined with his sunken eye sockets and sparse white hair, it looked three times more terrifying than when he did not smile.

"Of course." His voice dragged out the words. "You know our Rongrong's name, identity, background, martial soul, and father down to the last detail. It is only natural that you know who I am as well."

When he said "our Rongrong," his tone held the particular protectiveness of an elder.

Yang Xing smiled and did not deny it.

He refilled his cup of tea, his movements unhurried, as though sitting across from a skeletal old man two and a half meters tall in the middle of the night and drinking tea in his own living room was the most natural thing in the world.

"Bone Douluo has honored me with his presence." Yang Xing's tone was casual. "You came because of Rongrong, didn't you?"

The instant the words left his mouth—

The air changed.

It was not a metaphor. It was a real, physical change.

Gu Rong's hand resting on the table suddenly clenched. His shriveled fingers sank into the rosewood surface, their tips embedding three-tenths of the way into the wood as though he were kneading mud.

"Hey, hey, hey, you'll have to pay for that."

Yang Xing's eyelid twitched, and he hurriedly spoke up.

Gu Rong's body, which had just begun to rise, stiffened slightly for an instant. Then he selectively ignored Yang Xing's nonsense.

The next moment, he continued straightening his back from its slouched position against the chair.

Once his two-and-a-half-meter body sat upright, the visual pressure brought by his size increased more than threefold.

Then his soul power erupted.

No soul rings were released, and no martial soul possessed him.

It was simply the aura of a super powerhouse above rank ninety, restrained for decades, completely opening its floodgates at this moment.

Boom!!

An invisible hurricane exploded from Gu Rong's body.

The tea set on the table shattered in the blast, porcelain shards scattering everywhere. The two Grand Tutor's chairs let out agonized groans as their legs buckled. The calligraphy and paintings hanging on the walls fell with sharp slaps, their frames smashing to pieces. The roof beams creaked as great clouds of dust sifted down.

The entire main hall seemed on the verge of collapse beneath that soul power storm. Tables, chairs, and stools were overturned by the shockwave, while the sounds of shattering cups and bowls blended together. The beams and pillars groaned under extreme pressure, making teeth-gritting creaks as though the whole house would split apart and collapse at any moment.

Gu Rong stood up.

His towering skeletal frame cast a vast shadow beneath the dim lamplight, completely enveloping Yang Xing in the Grand Tutor's chair.

He looked down at Yang Xing.

Two rays of piercing light shot from his murky old eyes.

"Since you knew..."

His voice no longer carried that slow, drawn-out cadence.

It was a low growl rising from the depths of his chest, filled with tangible killing intent.

"Then why are you still so arrogant?"

The suppression of his soul power increased by another thirty percent. Cracks appeared in the floor tiles beneath Yang Xing's feet, spreading outward like a spiderweb.

"Reckless fool."

Gu Rong leaned forward. His terrifyingly withered face was less than a meter from Yang Xing's.

"You plotted against our Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect?"

He enunciated every word.

"Boy."

"Do you know you are courting death?"

It was not a question. It was a verdict.

The pressure of his soul power had reached a terrifying level. In any city on Douluo Continent, a spiritual pressure of this level would make ordinary people within a hundred meters faint on the spot. Even Soul Emperors and Soul Sages would turn pale with fright and break into a cold sweat beneath it.

Then Gu Rong noticed something.

At the very center of that overwhelming pressure—

Yang Xing sat in his Grand Tutor's chair.

Without moving.

He truly had not moved at all.

The teacup was still in his hand. Not even a ripple had appeared in the tea.

His posture remained as excessively lazy as before. His left leg was crossed over his right, his back leaned against the chair, one hand holding the teacup while the other rested on the armrest.

The expression on his face had not changed from beginning to end.

He was not forcing himself to endure it. Nor was he pretending to be calm.

He genuinely had no reaction.

It was as though Gu Rong's Titled Douluo pressure, enough to make an entire city tremble, was no more than a slightly chilly draft passing through the hall.

Gu Rong noticed it.

The severity in his expression paused.

The dim light deep in his eye sockets flickered. Though his violent aura did not recede, a portion of Gu Rong's attention was clearly drawn away by Yang Xing's reaction.

"What protective treasure are you carrying?" Gu Rong's voice deepened, and beneath his fury was a hint of investigation. "Or are those special soul skills you taught Rongrong supporting you?"

He recalled the intelligence sent back by the hidden guards. This young man possessed many miraculous soul skills beyond imagination: Wind Empress Qimen, Heaven-Piercing Talisman, Twin Complete Hands. Every one of them far surpassed conventional understanding.

Perhaps one of them was a method specifically meant to resist spiritual pressure or soul power attacks.

Yang Xing took a sip of tea.

He set down his cup.

Then he raised his head and looked at Gu Rong.

Those eyes, usually half-lidded and listless, were now fully open for the rarest of moments. His black pupils were crystal clear and utterly clean, holding neither fear nor calculation, not even the faintest ripple.

"I do possess those soul skills."

Yang Xing's voice was calm, carrying the frankness that only came when he was speaking seriously.

"But that is not why your soul power pressure does not affect me."

Gu Rong's brow furrowed.

Those old eyes buried deep in their sockets stared fixedly at Yang Xing. He said nothing, but the same question filled his gaze.

Not soul skills.

Then what was it?

Yang Xing smiled.

Not that lazy, carefree smile from before.

It was an exceptionally open smile, one that even carried a hint of relief.

"Let me introduce myself again."

His voice was ordinary, yet every word came naturally and calmly.

"Bone Douluo."

Before his words had even faded—

Hummm.

A deep tremor sounded from within Yang Xing's body.