Tang Chen's Hollow Words

Clear Sky Sect, early morning.

At this hour, the disciples would usually have already been sweating profusely on the training grounds.

But today, there was nothing.

The entire sect was as quiet as an empty mountain. Not even the birds were chirping.

The doors to the main hall were tightly shut.

Several disciples who had stood night watch looked at one another, but no one spoke.

They all knew what had happened inside.

Those who had returned from Spirit City had not left their rooms since.

The meals sent in had been carried out three times, untouched each time, then carried back in and out again.

The Clear Sky Sect's two most outstanding young geniuses—

Tang Xiao, the sect master's eldest son and a level-sixty-five Soul Emperor, had been defeated in a single move by a six-year-old child.

Tang Hao, the sect master's second son, a nineteen-year-old level-fifty-four Soul King, had likewise been taken down in one move by that child.

No matter where they went, the two had always been favored sons of heaven. Yet at Spirit Hall, they had not even withstood a second move.

That night, no one in the entire Clear Sky Sect slept peacefully.

In one of the Clear Sky Sect's side halls, six people sat in a row, and no one said a word.

Tang Hao sat at the far left, his head lowered.

Those crimson eyes, like a nightmare, lingered in his mind and refused to fade.

Tang Xiao sat beside him, and he was in no better condition.

He was fifteen years older than Tang Hao and had cultivated for a full fifteen years longer. A level-sixty-five Soul Emperor facing a level-forty-nine Soul Ancestor should have crushed his opponent, yet he himself had been crushed instead.

Yang Wudi, Tai Tan, Niu Gao, and Bai He each stared at their wounds without speaking.

The six of them sat there like that for the entire night.

When daylight fully broke, the doors to the main hall were pushed open.

Tang Chen stood in the doorway, dressed in a gray robe and carrying a jug of wine. His gaze swept across the six of them one by one.

He walked to the center of the hall, set down the jug, then turned to face them. "What are you all sitting around for? Waiting to die?"

All six raised their heads at once.

Tang Hao's lips moved. He wanted to call out "Grandfather," but those two words lodged in his throat and would not come out.

Tang Xiao also lifted his head to meet Tang Chen's gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Tang Chen walked up to Tang Hao, bent down to look at him, and slapped the back of his head.

Smack.

The crisp sound echoed through the hall, startling everyone.

"So you lost. Did the sky fall?"

Tang Hao's shoulders trembled. He looked up at his grandfather, his eyes reddening, yet he forcibly held back the tears that threatened to spill.

"...Grandfather, he was six."

"Mm. So?"

"He was level forty-nine... His first and second soul rings were one hundred thousand years..."

"I know."

"I saw it with my own eyes."

Tang Hao opened his mouth, but suddenly could not continue.

He knew that person was terrifying, but when he spoke those numbers aloud, he realized that every single one of them was a blade stabbing into his chest.

Each blade struck precisely where his pride ran deepest.

"Do you know how I felt when I first lost to Qian Daoliu?"

Tang Chen straightened up, poured himself a cup of wine, and drained it in one gulp.

All six people in the hall froze.

Tang Chen snorted at the astonished looks on those little brats' faces.

"You think I was born a Peerless Douluo? I got where I am by getting beaten too."

"I got beaten far worse than you did. You only lost one match."

"But do you know why, after losing for a lifetime, I'm still standing here? Because I never admitted defeat. If I couldn't beat someone, I trained until I could. You six lose once, then come back here and sit around crying? That would be real defeat."

Tang Hao and Tang Xiao clenched their fists.

"You think that person is terrifying. That's right, he is terrifying. But if your talent is inferior to his, then wear him down with time.

He was level forty-nine at six years old. Is the gap between you truly that great?

Looking ahead, his cultivation will only slow down more and more, while your growth will become increasingly explosive.

Those with the greatest talent do not necessarily go the farthest. The ones who go farthest are those who never stop."

At that moment, Tang Chen could only speak against his conscience to restore these boys' confidence.

What did he mean, that the other boy's cultivation would slow down?

That kid would probably become a Titled Douluo before even reaching adulthood.

It was simply absurd beyond belief.

Tang Hao's clenched fist slowly loosened, then slowly tightened again. This time, it was not trembling—he had found his strength once more.

After speaking, Tang Chen glanced at Yang Wudi and the other three.

"You four, leave first."

"Yes."

Only Tang Chen, Tang Hao, and Tang Xiao remained in the hall—the three generations of grandfather and grandsons.

Tang Chen sat down again, his expression growing more solemn.

"Hao'er, I passed the Great Sumeru Hammer on to you. How much of the secret technique for detonating soul rings do you remember?"

"...All of it."

"Then you should know why I passed it to you instead of your father, or your elder brother."

Tang Hao kept his head lowered and did not answer.

"Because you are the Clear Sky Douluo I chose."

"Not just anyone can bear that title.

That boy from Spirit Hall does have greater talent than you, but talent does not represent everything. He may be able to defeat you once, but that does not mean he can defeat you forever."

Tang Xiao gently patted Tang Hao's shoulder from beside him, saying nothing.

Tang Hao was silent for a long time. Then he slowly raised his head. The scattered light in his eyes gradually gathered again. "Grandfather, I want to go out and gain experience."

"Now?"

"Mm. If I stay in the sect, I'll only keep thinking about how terrifying he is. I want to go out, fight, and grow stronger."

Tang Xiao stood as well. "Grandfather, I'm going too."

Tang Chen looked at his two grandsons and suddenly smiled. He reached out and patted both their shoulders.

That afternoon, Tang Hao and Tang Xiao left the Clear Sky Sect.

The two brothers carried simple packs and left the mountain through the side gate.

Yang Wudi, Tai Tan, Niu Gao, and Bai He stood at the road outside the mountain gate, each carrying a piece of luggage.

Tang Hao froze when he saw them. "You guys..."

Yang Wudi rested the Soul-Breaking Spear on his shoulder. "Cultivation isn't just your brothers' business. We need to grow stronger too."

Tai Tan patted his chest. "Boss, I said I'd follow you all the way."

Niu Gao scratched the back of his head. "Let's go together."

Bai He had already flown into the air. "What are you dawdling for? Let's go. Your old uncle still has to rely on you two."

Tang Hao was stunned for a moment, then smiled.

He stepped beyond the mountain gate, looked back once, and strode forward.

The six of them merged into one long shadow and vanished beyond the other side of the mountain.

Tang Chen stood high above the mountain gate, watching the six figures gradually disappear into the distance. He remained silent for a long time.

The wind whipped his gray robe until it snapped loudly.

He turned and took several steps back, then stopped. Raising his head, he looked toward the distant sky—the direction of Spirit City.

He recalled the scenes at the Soul Fighting Arena yesterday.

Qian Daoliu's composure, Qian Xunji's face as he stood behind him trying and failing to hold back his laughter, and the dead silence that had fallen across the arena when that white-haired boy revealed two red soul rings.

Tang Chen let out a long breath. "Old Qian, old Qian... you really have given me a huge problem."

"That boy is truly outrageous."

"Still, my grandson will not keep losing like this forever."