Golden Marshal! Eight-Ring Soul Douluo! Rejecting Generous Recruitment Terms!

The lights of Heaven Dou City still shone brightly.

The Lantern Festival on the Imperial Road continued, and the people's laughter drifted from afar, rising and fading in the night wind.

The Imperial Road east of the palace was packed with people, while the opposite direction—the treasury district—was unusually quiet.

Huang Yun stood in the shadow of a palace wall outside the treasury, his breathing suppressed to its lowest point, not a trace of Soul Power leaking from his body.

Lightning Falcon Eyes activated soundlessly. Pale violet patterns deep within his pupils slowly bloomed like lotus flowers.

His gaze pierced through the night and palace walls, sweeping across every corner outside the treasury.

At least sixty percent of the reconnaissance Soul Masters were gone.

The hidden sentries' auras were also far fainter than last time. Only a few scattered posts remained active, and their distribution was nowhere near as dense as before.

The patrolling Imperial Guards were still present, but their steps were orderly and uniform, lacking that tense sense of extreme vigilance.

As expected, Xue Ye had transferred most of his forces to the Lantern Festival.

The corner of Huang Yun's lips curled slightly, only for him to suppress it at once.

He did not hastily enter the treasury district.

The lesson from last time had taught him that the waters within the imperial palace ran far deeper than they appeared.

Xue Ye could lay down a net at the Lantern Festival, so he might very well have prepared a second ambush at the treasury.

An emperor would never place all his bets in one location.

Huang Yun did not personally step onto the treasury grounds.

A flicker of blue-white lightning flashed around him, and a figure split from his body, silently darting toward the treasury.

The Clone wore the same gray cloth robes as him and possessed the same aura and speed. Like a wisp of smoke blending into the night, it instantly crossed the shadows between the treasury's outer walls and Soul Guidance lamps.

The Clone activated Teleportation, crossing five hundred meters in a single step and appearing directly inside the treasury.

The lights inside were much dimmer than those outside. Only several everlasting lamps atop the stone pillars gave off faint, warm light.

Rows of rosewood shelves stood neatly arranged. The treasury was exceptionally quiet, and the air carried the dry scent of aged timber.

The Clone had a clear target and walked directly toward the central white marble pillar.

At the top of the stone pillar, embedded within a groove, was an object the size of a palm. Its entire body was azure and translucent, as though a vast sea flowed slowly within it. Rippling with light, it emitted a soft yet profound blue glow.

The Vast Sea Cosmic Shroud.

The Clone reached out.

Just before its fingertips could touch that azure surface, a streak of golden light shot from the darkness at the side of the treasury. It was as swift as a meteor tearing through the night sky, yet it was not aimed at the Clone's body. Instead, it struck the ground precisely three feet in front of it.

Boom!

The spear tip plunged into the bluestone floor, and the shaft vibrated violently with a low hum.

A ring of golden airwaves erupted from the impact point, forcibly driving the Clone back two steps. Fragments of stone struck its legs with a series of light rattles.

The Clone stopped. It neither advanced nor retreated, merely standing several feet before the golden spear as its gaze passed over the shaft and into the darkness.

From the shadows at the side of the treasury, a tall and burly figure slowly emerged.

The man wore heavy dark-golden armor that covered his entire body. Countless dragon patterns and spear-and-halberd motifs were cast across its surface, every line radiating a grim, killing aura.

He walked to the spear and pulled it from the ground with a calm, steady motion, as though that earlier throw had merely been a casual gesture.

He stopped before the stone pillar, and a ring of Spirit Rings slowly rose beneath his feet.

Yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black.

Eight Spirit Rings, perfectly arranged. The eighth was deep as ink, emanating the dense aura of a Ten-Thousand-Year Soul Beast.

An Eight-Ring Soul Douluo.

Huang Yun's expression turned solemn.

An Eight-Ring Soul Douluo coupled with a Golden Soul-Locking Spear Martial Soul was already top-tier combat power within the Heaven Dou Empire.

Moreover, the aura this man exuded was steady as a mountain and decisive in slaughter. He was clearly an old general who had fought his way through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, utterly different from those consecrated masters raised within the depths of the palace.

The heavily armored marshal slowly stepped forward, the tip of his Golden Soul-Locking Spear angled toward the ground. Golden patterns on the shaft glimmered faintly within the dim treasury.

From several zhang away, he stared at Huang Yun's Clone with sharp eyes and slowly spoke.

"Just as His Majesty expected."

"You saw through the fake at the Lantern Festival, then doubled back and returned here."

He paused, his tone even.

"His Majesty has decreed that as long as you are willing to join the Heaven Dou Imperial Family, you will be granted wealth and glory, a high position with real authority, countless beauties, and resources devoted fully to your cultivation. You will even be exceptionally granted the title of earl."

"Across the entire continent, not many people could refuse such terms. You are a smart man. You should know which choice to make."

"Will you become our colleague or our enemy? Choose."

Within the shadows outside the treasury, Huang Yun's true body fell silent for a moment.

After considering it, he stepped out from the darkness.

He wore no mask, only ordinary gray cloth robes. His face looked utterly unremarkable, but the brilliance in his eyes far surpassed that of an ordinary youth.

He stood roughly twenty zhang from the treasury entrance, looking at the Eight-Ring Soul Douluo clad in heavy armor and holding the Golden Soul-Locking Spear, then spoke.

"His Majesty is worthy of being His Majesty. He really did see through my intentions."

"The terms His Majesty has offered are indeed tempting. I fear there are only a handful of people in the world who could refuse them."

The heavily armored marshal nodded slightly, his gaze calm. He did not seem surprised by those words.

With such terms on offer, the Heaven Dou Imperial Family's regard for talent had already surpassed that of any sect or faction. As long as the other party had any sense, he should understand which path to choose.

But Huang Yun abruptly changed his tone.

"Unfortunately."

"I have grown accustomed to being alone, soaring freely between heaven and earth without being bound by anyone. I cannot become anyone's dog, not even the emperor's."

"So, I appreciate your goodwill, but I'm sorry. I refuse."

His tone was calm, without anger or arrogance. He was merely stating a fact.

The expression on the heavily armored marshal's face slowly turned cold.

He remained silent for two breaths, then let out a low sigh from his throat.

"You have courage. Since that is the case..."

The Golden Soul-Locking Spear slowly rose, its tip pointing straight toward Huang Yun as all eight Spirit Rings faintly lit up.

"Today, you will die here."

Before his words had even faded, his arm jerked sharply.

First Soul Skill: Golden Soul-Locking Spear.

The Golden Soul-Locking Spear flew from his hand, carving a dazzling golden trail through the air. Like a blade of heavenly punishment that had locked onto its target, it tore through the air and shot toward Huang Yun.

The Soul Skill's inherent locking effect made the spear impossible to evade. No matter how its target moved, the spear tip would track him precisely until it struck.

It was too fast.

The spear's radiance arrived in an instant.

Pfft.

The Golden Soul-Locking Spear pierced through Huang Yun's chest and emerged from his back. The golden light on its tip burst into a ring of scattered motes.

But the heavily armored marshal's pupils suddenly contracted.

After being pierced, that body neither bled nor fell. Instead, it shattered like glass, turning into blue-white motes that scattered into the night wind.

He could not shake the feeling that something was wrong...