Dark Alley, Probing

A week passed.

On the second floor of the inn, inside Quan Cangtian's room.

The morning sunlight squeezed through the gap in the curtains. Zixiao and Quan Batian were both absent; they had gone outside the city to handle some matters and would only return at noon.

Quan Cangtian sat on the edge of the bed.

His right palm faced upward.

A dark red crystal pulsed beneath his palm.

Very slowly. Once every second.

Autonomous Adaptation was suppressing the gene, and the gene was growing. The two forces wrestled within his body like two people in a tug-of-war.

He could feel the impulse of the gene.

It wanted to go southeast.

It wanted to approach the Dark Soul Cult.

This was not his own thought.

It was the thought of the gene.

He stood up.

He walked to the window.

He looked outside.

In the southeast direction lay the Dark Alley District.

A week ago, he had discovered the aura of the Dark Soul Cult there.

A week later, he needed more intelligence.

The Dark Soul Cult was waiting for him.

The Pontifex was waiting for him.

He needed to know what they were waiting for.

The Dark Alley District.

Quan Cangtian walked in.

The layout here was different from a week ago.

The bun shop on the left was closed, a yellowed paper pasted on its door reading "For Transfer". The teahouse on the right had changed hands; previously an old man boiled tea there, but now a young man was wiping the tables.

He was adjusting.

The Dark Soul Cult was adjusting.

Quan Cangtian did not walk straight inside.

He stood at the entrance of the alley, observing.

The alley was very narrow, the houses on both sides squeezed together, their eaves almost touching. The ground was paved with bluestone slabs, cracked in some places with weeds growing out.

He counted them.

Seven shops on the left, six on the right.

The closed ones accounted for half.

The ones that had changed hands accounted for a third.

The Dark Soul Cult was contracting.

Or perhaps, transferring.

The first stronghold.

The exterior was a casino.

The sign read "Tianyun Casino", but the characters had faded and were almost illegible.

Quan Cangtian pushed the door open.

The door hinges let out a creaking sound.

The interior was empty.

The gaming tables were still there, but a layer of dust had settled over them. The dice cup was overturned at the corner of the table, and the dice were scattered on the floor. The lanterns in the corner had long gone out, their wicks burned to black charcoal.

He walked over to the gaming table.

He swiped his hand across the surface.

The dust was thick.

No one had been here for at least a week.

He felt the gene pulse.

Very faintly.

This was not the core.

Deep inside the Dark Alley District.

Quan Cangtian continued to walk forward.

The alley grew narrower and narrower, the houses on both sides older and older. The walls of some houses had already collapsed halfway, exposing the wooden beams inside.

He heard footsteps.

Three people.

Walking over from ahead.

He flashed and hid in a corner.

The three people wore black robes, their faces concealed within hoods. They walked very slowly, talking as they moved.

"Did the Young Patriarch come again today?"

"He came. At the third stronghold."

"And the Pontifex?"

"The Pontifex is waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for him."

The three people walked past.

Quan Cangtian emerged from the corner.

Young Patriarch.

Pontifex.

Waiting for him.

Confirmed.

The Dark Soul Cult was indeed looking for him.

The second stronghold.

The exterior was a pharmacy.

The sign read "Jishi Pharmacy", the characters new and freshly painted not long ago.

Quan Cangtian pushed the door open.

There were people inside.

Three Black-Robed Persons.

They stood behind the counter, and upon seeing Quan Cangtian enter, they did not speak.

The first Black-Robed Person moved.

He rushed over at great speed.

Holding a short blade in his hand.

Quan Cangtian sidestepped, dodging.

The short blade brushed past his clothing.

He grabbed the Black-Robed Person's wrist.

He twisted it back-handedly.

Crack.

The wrist broke.

The Black-Robed Person screamed.

Quan Cangtian kicked him in the chest.

The Black-Robed Person flew backward, crashed into the wall, slid down, and stopped moving.

The second Black-Robed Person rushed up.

Holding a long staff in his hand.

Quan Cangtian raised his right hand.

Hellfire Transformation activated.

Black-red radiance erupted from his body.

He felt his life burning.

His power surged explosively.

He charged forward.

With a single punch.

He slammed into the Black-Robed Person's chest.

The Black-Robed Person flew backward, smashing into the doorframe, shattering it.

He collapsed onto the ground and stopped moving.

The third Black-Robed Person stood there.

Unmoving.

The third Black-Robed Person looked at Quan Cangtian.

He was a little taller than the first two.

His aura was also stronger.

Level 81.

Spirit Douluo.

"You are strong."

Quan Cangtian didn't speak.

"Level 21, with the combat power of a Soul Emperor."

"Not bad."

The Black-Robed Person walked behind the counter.

Leaning against the counter.

"The Pontifex asked me to relay a message."

Quan Cangtian.

"What message?"

The Black-Robed Person.

"The Pontifex can help you control the gene."

"Completely control it."

"Not suppress it."

"Eradicate it."

Quan Cangtian.

"What is the price?"

The Black-Robed Person smiled.

"Become his man."

Quan Cangtian.

"Refused."

The Black-Robed Person nodded.

"I knew you would refuse."

"But you will regret it."

He walked to the door.

He glanced back.

"The gene is growing."

"You cannot suppress it for long."

"When you can no longer suppress it."

"Come find us again."

He left.

Quan Cangtian stood inside the pharmacy.

The crystal in his palm pulsed.

The third stronghold.

Quan Cangtian continued walking forward.

The alley reached its end.

Ahead was an open space.

In the center of the open space stood a house.

Three stories tall, with black brick walls and sealed-up windows.

He sensed an aura.

Very strong.

Came from the house.

At least Titled Douluo level.

Dark Soul Cult had a Titled Douluo stationed in Tianhun City.

He stopped.

Couldn't go in.

Going in was courting death.

He turned.

Prepared to retreat.

In the alley.

Quan Cangtian walked back.

Took a dozen steps.

Two people appeared in front of him.

Two Black-Robed Persons.

They stood in the middle of the alley, blocking his path.

The one on the left was tall, holding a heavy blade in hand.

The one on the right was very thin, holding two short blades.

"The Young Patriarch asked us to test you."

The one on the left spoke.

"To see just how strong you really are."

Quan Cangtian clenched his fists.

Hellfire Transformation was still operating.

To the Death activated.

He felt his life burning.

His power surging.

The one on the left rushed up.

The heavy blade chopped down.

Quan Cangtian sidestepped, dodging.

The heavy blade struck the ground, blue stone slabs shattering.

He rushed forward.

One punch.

Slammed into the chest of the one on the left.

The one on the left retreated two steps.

Didn't fall.

"A little interesting."

The one on the right also rushed up.

Two short blades crossed, hacking toward Quan Cangtian's neck.

Quan Cangtian raised his left hand, blocking.

The short blades slashed against his arm.

Blood splattered out.

Yet he didn't retreat.

He grabbed the wrist of the one on the right.

Pulled hard.

The one on the right was pulled over.

Quan Cangtian punched him in the face.

The one on the right flew backward, slamming into the wall.

The one on the left rushed up again.

The heavy blade swept horizontally.

Quan Cangtian couldn't dodge.

Struck by the back of the blade.

Flew backward.

Slammed into the wall.

Vomited blood.

He climbed back up.

His arm was bleeding.

His chest ached.

Yet he didn't stop.

The one on the left rushed over.

The heavy blade chopped down.

Quan Cangtian didn't dodge.

He was waiting.

The instant the heavy blade came down.

He rushed forward.

One punch.

Slammed into the chest of the one on the left.

The one on the left retreated three steps.

Kneeled on the ground.

Vomited blood.

Quan Cangtian also kneeled on the ground.

Gasping.

Yet he stood up.

Turned.

Ran.

Inn.

Zixiao sat by the bed.

Quan Batian stood by the window.

"He'll be fine."

Zixiao.

"He went to the Dark Alley District alone."

Quan Batian.

"I know."

Zixiao.

"The Dark Soul Cult is there."

Quan Batian.

"I know."

Zixiao stood up.

Walked to the window.

Looked outside the window.

"He should be back."

Quan Batian.

"He'll be back."

Zixiao didn't speak.

She stood by the window.

Looked outside the window.

Afternoon.

Quan Cangtian pushed the door open.

Zixiao stood up.

She saw the injuries on his body.

The blood on his arm.

The bruises on his chest.

"You're hurt."

Quan Cangtian.

"It's nothing."

He walked to the bed.

Sat down.

And explained the situation.

The locations and strength of the three strongholds.

The first stronghold was an empty shell.

The second stronghold had three Black-Robed Persons, two defeated, one at level 80, who passed on the Pontifex's words.

The third stronghold had a Titled Douluo stationed.

Intercepted by two Spirit Douluos while retreating, barely winning.

Quan Batian finished listening.

Walked to the window.

"The Dark Soul Cult won't let this rest."

Quan Cangtian.

"I know."

Quan Batian.

"The Pontifex is waiting for you."

Quan Cangtian.

"I won't become his person."

Quan Batian nodded.

"Then get stronger."

"Strong enough not to need anyone's help."

Night.

Inn.

Quan Cangtian sat cross-legged on the bed.

The crystal in his palm pulsed.

Autonomous Adaptation was operating.

His gene was growing.

He closed his eyes.

Feeling two forces pulling within his body.

He needed to grow stronger.

Strong enough to suppress the gene.

Strong enough to assimilate the gene.

Strong enough not to need the Pontifex's help.

Strong enough not to need anyone's help.

Outside the window, the lights of Tianhun City flickered.

The Dark Soul Cult was waiting for him.

The Pontifex was waiting for him.

Time was passing.

He needed to be faster than time.