Outside, the silence in the dormitory was finally broken.
On the bed, the figure that had remained rigid suddenly gave a slight twitch.
Then, under Xuan Zi and Yan Shaozhe's tense gazes, the Blue-Haired Boy braced both hands against the bed and slowly sat up.
At first, his movements were awkward and stiff, like a puppet's. But as he rolled his neck, his bones gave a series of crisp little cracks, and his every movement swiftly became smooth and natural.
The boy raised his head. His eyes no longer held the innocence of an eight-year-old child.
In its place was a composure that spanned ten thousand years, along with a hint of haughty disdain.
Tang San felt the blood coursing through his meridians. He slowly spread his fingers, then clenched them into a tight fist.
Though he was still terribly frail, the long-lost sensation of a physical body finally brought a trace of peace to his cold divine consciousness.
He threw off the blanket and stepped barefoot onto the floor, sweeping his gaze over the awestruck Xuan Zi and Yan Shaozhe, then Huo Yuhao, who had just regained his senses.
"This body is quite decent."
Tang San looked at his hands. His voice was childish, but his tone carried unmistakable arrogance:
"Innate level nine. Though it isn't innate full soul power, that hardly matters."
He lowered his hands and clasped them behind his back. "In my hands, there is no difference between innate full soul power and even innate half-level soul power."
Xuan Zi and Yan Shaozhe exchanged a glance. Xuan Zi swallowed twice.
He took a small step forward, bowed, and ventured in a low voice:
"Sea God Patriarch, is it truly you?"
Tang San, now occupying the child's body, lifted his chin, an inborn arrogance etched between