Tang Hao lay collapsed in a pool of blood, his heart filled with regret.
The four Titled Douluo had already pushed him to his limit. Faced with that, he had chosen the method he knew best: Ring Detonation.
With that desperate ferocity, he had forcibly detonated his Soul Rings in exchange for a terrifying burst of power. He had meant to strike a fatal blow amid the chaos, then seize the chance to escape.
Over the years, that move had made countless powerful opponents suffer.
As long as he was ruthless enough, as long as he dared to wager his life and everything he had, he could always tear a path to survival out of a hopeless situation.
At least, that was what he had believed until today.
But heaven would not favor one man forever.
Tang Hao lowered his head with difficulty and looked at the strange longsword lodged in his chest.
Its blade had pierced clean through him, and his blood kept dripping down its length.
Even now, he had no idea when the sword had appeared behind him.
He had needed to find a way to break the Two Extremes Stillness Domain while guarding against surprise attacks from Ghost Leopard and Demon Bear. Only when he sensed that strange spatial fluctuation did he realize something was wrong.
By then, it was too late.
He had no strength left to resist.
Detonating two Soul Rings in succession had already drained him dry. The sword's appearance had severed his last hope.
Tang Hao lay on his back in the pool of blood, clutching his chest with one hand and gulping down air.
The scene before his eyes was growing blurry. He knew it was a sign that his body could not hold out much longer.
Around him, Demon Bear Douluo and the others had sealed off every escape route. Today, not even wings would save him.
Every eye fell on that longsword. What kind of Martial Soul was it?
What sort of expert could silently pierce through space at the instant Tang Hao detonated his Soul Rings, evade everyone's notice, and deal him a fatal blow?
As everyone puzzled over it, Qian Juechen finally moved on the raised platform.
He rose slowly and looked down at Tang Hao from above.
Nothing but icy killing intent filled his deep eyes.
"I have long heard that Clear Sky Douluo of the Clear Sky Sect is recklessly bold and merciless in his attacks. His name could make a three-year-old cry at night, and he is scarcely different from the Fallen Ones."
"I thought those were merely exaggerations from outsiders. Only after seeing you today do I have to believe them."
Qian Juechen's low voice reached every ear. He stepped down through the air, his expression unchanged, and continued.
"You hate Spirit Hall. You wanted to use my coronation ceremony to humiliate both me and Spirit Hall. That much I can understand."
"After all, the enmity between us was sealed long ago. Only death can settle it."
At that, Qian Juechen's tone shifted, and a trace of mockery entered his eyes.
"But did you ever consider who was sitting in the Papal Palace today?"
"Surely you knew. They are representatives of powers across the continent, young talents carefully nurtured by the great sects, and the future hopes into whom countless families have poured their hearts."
"Some even supported the Clear Sky Sect in the past and have close ties with it."
"I truly pity them. For the sake of your personal grudge, you were willing to drag every one of them into a deadly trap!"
Qian Juechen's voice rose sharply, exploding like thunder in the still air above the hall. His gaze was a sword fixed on Tang Hao.
"If Spirit Hall's four Titled Douluo had not done everything they could to stop that hammer blow, and if I had not acted in time..."
"Who knows how many brilliant young talents in the Papal Palace would have been buried today by your own hand—the hand of the so-called Clear Sky Douluo, the continent's hero?"
"Tang Hao, you may hate Spirit Hall, and you may hate me. But what gives you the right to use innocent lives as stepping-stones on your road to revenge?!"
Qian Juechen's words left quite a few people in the guest and audience seats with a tangle of emotions.
Their earlier fear and anger had turned to disgust and lingering dread.
The representatives of powers that had once been friendly with the Clear Sky Sect looked especially grim.
Yes, they knew Spirit Hall's words were meant to strike at the heart. But the facts were right before them, and they could not deny them.
They had thought Tang Hao's attack was, at most, a private feud with Spirit Hall.
Who could have imagined that the madman cared so little for their lives? Had he intended to make them sacrifices on his road to revenge as well?
How absurd!
Having said all he needed to, Qian Juechen did not spare Tang Hao another glance.
He waved a hand. With a hum, the Void Sword embedded in Tang Hao's chest gave a soft ring.
It pulled free of Tang Hao's body, became a dark streak of light across the sky, and settled neatly into the Sword Case on Qian Juechen's back.
The entire motion flowed like clouds and running water, without the slightest hesitation. Only then did everyone realize that the new Pope himself had launched that sword strike.
Before they could absorb that revelation, an even more shocking sight appeared.
Qian Juechen took a step, rose into the air from the platform, and walked slowly toward Tang Hao below.
At the same time, his Soul Power began to climb. One, two, three—eight Soul Rings appeared in succession, slowly circling his body.
Black, black, black, black. Red, red, red, red. Four black and four red Soul Rings gleamed together.
The first four Ten Thousand Year Soul Rings were enough to seize the soul, but the four blood-red Hundred Thousand Year Soul Rings behind them were even harder to believe.
In an instant, every gaze in the Papal Palace locked onto the eight Soul Rings around Qian Juechen.
Most people gaped, too stunned to care where they were. Others kept rubbing their eyes, wondering whether they had seen wrong.
Even the well-traveled Titled Douluo in the guest seats felt their pupils contract and their minds reel.
Four Hundred Thousand Year Soul Rings, on a Soul Douluo with only eight rings? How had he done it?
Ning Fengzhi was already on his feet, both hands braced against the chair before him. His eyes were fixed on Qian Juechen's figure in midair.
He turned instinctively and exchanged a look with Sword Douluo Chen Xin, who was just as stunned. His mouth opened, but he had no idea what to say.
What kind of joke was this? Such a Soul Ring combination simply did not exist.
Ning Fengzhi cried out in his heart. He knew he was afraid. Four black rings and four red, a Soul Douluo who looked barely over twenty—Qian Juechen would most likely reach Titled Douluo before thirty, and his final Soul Ring was unlikely to be less than a Hundred Thousand Year Soul Ring.
Spirit Hall would have a Titled Douluo with four black rings and five red. One sword strike from him could gravely wound Tang Hao. Tang Hao had been injured, but the feat was still not to be underestimated. How were they supposed to compete?
Even if Ning Fengzhi united the Upper Three Sects, the Lower Four Sects, and the Two Great Empires, they could not possibly stand against Spirit Hall!
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