Dugu Bo: Slightly Dirty Hem

Dugu Yan slowly lowered herself into a chair, her movements stiff as a marionette's.

Her worldview was collapsing and rebuilding at a visible speed. Her grandfather, the Poison Douluo, a level ninety-two Titled Douluo and one of the Heaven Dou Empire's few elites, had been sent flying by a six-year-old child using thirty percent of his strength in a single punch.

And judging by the force behind that punch, the child had been telling the truth.

Jiang Lan scampered out of the study on his short little legs. Doro hopped down from the armrest and waddled after him with her round body swaying, still holding half an orange in her mouth.

One person and one soul beast passed through the study, crossed the remains of the shattered wooden window, and raced in a straight line along the garden's stone path.

Only then did Dugu Yan come back to her senses and hurried after them.

Jiang Lan ran to the rockery and looked up at Dugu Bo embedded in the stone wall.

Dugu Bo's pose was rather artistic. He was wedged into the rock in the shape of a spread-eagle, his legs dangling in midair. A thin wisp of black smoke still rose from the sole of his left shoe, while his beard had been blasted straight upward by the explosive force, making him look exactly like a green hedgehog slapped onto a wall.

"Master? Master, are you still alive?" Jiang Lan stood on tiptoe and reached up to tug at Dugu Bo's dangling sleeve.

Dugu Bo's eyelids twitched, then slowly opened.

He first stared blankly at the sky, then lowered his gaze to his body embedded in the rock wall. Finally, his eyes settled on the tiny child before him, who was looking up with a face that plainly said, "I really didn't do it on purpose."

It hurt.

His whole body hurt.

His abdomen felt as though a Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast had rammed into him head-on. His internal organs were churning violently, and the part of his back embedded in the rock was no better. Every segment of his spine was protesting.

But who was he? He was Dugu Bo, the Poison Douluo, the renowned level ninety-two Titled Douluo of the Heaven Dou Empire.

Could he embarrass himself in front of his granddaughter? In front of this newly accepted disciple? In front of this white little blob that was still chewing on an orange?

No.

Absolutely not.

Dugu Bo drew a deep breath and circulated his Soul Power, forcibly suppressing the surging blood and energy within him. He squeezed a calm, detached expression onto his face, planted both hands against the rock wall, and pulled himself free from the rockery.

Amid the sound of broken stones tumbling down, he landed steadily on the ground. Though his robe was riddled with holes and his hair still stood on end, his back remained perfectly straight, his chin still lifted at that forty-five-degree angle of a lofty master.

"Cough, cough." Dugu Bo straightened his tattered collar and said nonchalantly, "Not bad. Your strength is indeed considerable. Among those your age..."

He had intended to say that Jiang Lan was outstanding among his peers, but the words reached his lips and were swallowed back down.

Peers?

Other six-year-olds were still playing in the mud, while this brat could send a Titled Douluo like him flying twenty meters with one punch.

Even he did not believe that himself.

"...It's passable." Dugu Bo forcibly changed his words, keeping his voice as steady as possible. Yet his Adam's apple visibly bobbed, as if he were swallowing something.

Jiang Lan tilted his head and carefully studied Dugu Bo's face.

He noticed that his master's complexion was several shades paler than before. At the corner of his lips, a faint trace of red was slowly seeping out.

"Master, you're bleeding from the corner of your mouth!" Jiang Lan pointed at Dugu Bo's lips, his voice filled with obvious concern.

Dugu Yan had run over as well. Hearing that, she hurriedly leaned closer to look. "Grandfather, you're really hurt? Should I go get some medicine..."

"It's nothing!" Dugu Bo waved his hand, his voice firm and decisive. He wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, discreetly erasing that trace of blood. "I am a dignified Titled Douluo. A mere punch only caused my blood and energy to circulate poorly. Spitting out the stagnant blood is actually beneficial to my body."

His expression remained unchanged as he spoke, his tone even, carrying a hint of the arrogance of someone saying, "You wouldn't understand how we Titled Douluo cultivate."

If not for the fact that his legs were still trembling ever so slightly, his words might actually have sounded somewhat convincing.

"But..." Jiang Lan wanted to say something more.

"No buts." Dugu Bo cut him off.

Dugu Bo lowered his head and glanced at his tattered robe. An almost imperceptible flash of embarrassment crossed his face. "I suddenly remembered that I have some matters to handle. Go with Yan Yan and familiarize yourself with the residence first."

With that, he turned around and headed toward his room in measured, steady strides.

Every step was firm and stable. Every step maintained the bearing expected of a Titled Douluo. His posture was so composed that it was as if he had not been the one sent flying by that punch.

Dugu Yan and Jiang Lan stood where they were, watching his back disappear around the end of the corridor.

"Sister Yan Yan, doesn't Master look like he's walking with the same arm and leg?" Jiang Lan whispered.

Dugu Yan fell silent for two seconds. "...It does seem like his left foot and right foot are each doing their own thing."

Doro spat out the orange peel and called, "Doro."

Translation: I told you, this was standard stuff. Just sit back and enjoy the show.

Meanwhile.

Dugu Bo pushed open the door to his room, entered, turned around to close it, slid the bolt into place, then quickly walked to the bedside.

He braced himself against the bedpost, bent over, and with a puff, spat out a mouthful of bright red blood.

The spray of blood splattered across the bluestone floor, reflecting a dark crimson gleam under the candlelight.

Dugu Bo supported himself against the bedpost with one hand and gasped for breath. Cold sweat poured from his forehead layer after layer, and the calm composure he had forced himself to maintain outside completely crumbled at this moment.

"This... this brat..." Dugu Bo clutched his abdomen, his voice trembling. "Thirty percent strength... the hell kind of thirty percent strength was that?"

He looked down at his abdomen. His robe had not torn, but the skin beneath it had certainly bruised over. By tomorrow, it would probably turn purple-black.

It took Dugu Bo a long while to recover before he straightened up and walked to the bronze mirror to examine himself.

The old man in the mirror had hair sticking up like a hedgehog's, a face as pale as paper, a streak of blood still at the corner of his mouth, and a robe in tatters. He looked as though he had just crawled out of a pack of soul beasts.

He stared at his reflection for a long time, then suddenly laughed.

"Heh."

The laugh tugged at his abdominal injury, making him bare his teeth in pain, but he could not help laughing again.

"Six years old. Thirty percent strength. And he made me cough up blood."

Dugu Bo wiped the blood from his lips and muttered to himself, "Where exactly did a monster like this come from?"

He thought about it, then thought some more. At last, Jiang Lan's chubby little face surfaced in his mind, along with those clear black-and-white eyes and that earnest question: Would you provide meals?

Dugu Bo leaned against the bed and looked up at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth curling upward beyond his control.

"But... that brat is quite interesting."