Tang San, What the Hell Are You Up To, You Bastard!

Tang Sanmei's hand went slack, and the oil-paper umbrella dropped to the ground.

She whipped toward the boy beside her, whose eyes were rolling back, and pressed her trembling little hand to Huo Yuhao's chest. At last, she confirmed the presence of that all-too-familiar Internal Force.

"This... this is..."

Tang Sanmei's voice trembled, and tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

The Mysterious Heaven Skill!

It really was the Mysterious Heaven Skill!

In this unfamiliar world, someone besides her actually knew the Mysterious Heaven Skill!

A thought flashed through her mind:

This boy must have crossed over from the Bashu Tang Sect too.

But more importantly!

He was a boy! A male heir!

In her previous life, Tang Sanmei had been an outer sect disciple who had leaped off a cliff after secretly learning the Inner Sect Secret Arts.

She had been reborn in this life, but never expected to be born a girl.

Under the feudal belief from her previous life that traditions passed to sons, not daughters, she had always considered herself a sinner, unworthy of carrying on the Tang Sect.

Even with a family beside her in this life, her hope of reviving the Tang Sect had long since gone out.

But now!

"The heavens have opened their eyes! The Tang Sect has an heir!"

Tang Sanmei threw her arms around Huo Yuhao, tears of excitement streaming down her face.

"Senior brother? Or junior brother? Whoever you are, I'll heal you! I'll teach you every Tang Sect Secret Art I remember! You'll be the Tang Sect leader from now on. I'll serve you tea, pour your water, wash your clothes, cook your meals—anything! Our Tang Sect finally has a male heir!"

Already gravely wounded and close to death, Huo Yuhao was nearly strangled by her embrace. His head was full of question marks.

What senior brother or junior brother?

What grand cause of the Tang Sect?

What the hell are you talking about, Tang San?

Don't think I'll let you off just because you've turned into a girl!

And the Mysterious Heaven Skill I practice is the version you left behind ten thousand years from now, all right?

Who's your fellow disciple, you bastard Tang San?

Just as her grip was about to suffocate Huo Yuhao, a thunderous roar erupted through the rain nearby.

"Where did this little brat come from? How dare you take liberties with Tang Hao's daughter! Let go of that girl!"

A burly man radiating murderous intent charged toward them, his face twisted with fury.

"Tang... Tang Hao?"

At the sound of that name, Huo Yuhao, who had been on the verge of passing out, opened his eyes wide.

Tang Hao from ten thousand years ago?

Old Jack, Tang Hao, a female Tang San...

All the clues linked together in Huo Yuhao's mind like a flash of lightning.

What the hell is Tang San up to???

Before he blacked out, Huo Yuhao stared at the murderous Tang Hao charging toward him, his thoughts a tangled mess.

What kind of scenario is this?

"Stop! Dad, you're not allowed to hit him!"

A split second before Tang Hao's fist, as big as a sandbag, could smash into Huo Yuhao's head, Tang Sanmei spun around and cradled Huo Yuhao in her arms, trying to shield him with her own back.

The fist stopped dead just an inch from the back of Tang Sanmei's head.

Tang Hao, furious a moment ago, saw his daughter's reddened eyes and tear-streaked face. Every trace of his murderous intent vanished.

"Oh, my little darling, don't cry!"

The Clear Sky Douluo, murderous one moment, scrambled to apologize the next.

He was terrified his precious little girl might be hurt.

"Dad won't hit him. Dad won't hit him, all right? Be good, Third Lady. This boy's covered in mud. Don't let him dirty your new dress. Let go of him..."

"I won't!"

At his words, Tang Sanmei only held on tighter.

She lifted her head, her little face full of stubborn resolve.

"Dad, he's going to die. Can we save him? Please."

Looking at his daughter's eyes and brows, so like those of his late wife, Tang Hao's heart melted.

Forget saving a little beggar. If Tang Sanmei asked for a Hundred-Thousand-Year Soul Beast right now, he would probably ask what kind she wanted.

"All right, all right. We'll save him. Dad will save him, okay?"

Tang Hao sighed helplessly, grabbed Huo Yuhao by the back of the neck, and hoisted him up.

"Come on. Let's go home."

Tang Hao carried Huo Yuhao in one hand and lifted his daughter into the shelter of his other arm, striding toward the Blacksmith Shop.

On the way, though, Tang Hao kept glancing down at the stray boy dangling from his hand, his brows knitted as he muttered to himself:

Where did this little brat come from? Third Lady has never paid any attention to the boys in the village. Why does she care so much about this little beggar?

After an unknown stretch of time, a long-forgotten warmth roused Huo Yuhao.

Huo Yuhao groggily regained consciousness.

He could feel that he was lying on a soft bed, covered by a quilt that smelled of sunshine and soap.

I'm not dead... Looks like Tang Hao brought me home.

Huo Yuhao breathed a silent sigh of relief. Instinctively, he tried to call Brother Sky Dream and Elder Yi, but his Spiritual Sea was deathly still. There was no response.

He sighed. Rather than open his eyes immediately, he used what remained of his senses to check his surroundings.

Then a faint scent of rice porridge reached his nose.

A soft, warm little hand was holding a heated damp towel, gently wiping his cheeks bit by bit.

The touch was so delicate it was as though she were polishing a precious treasure.

Huo Yuhao frowned slightly and slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Tang Sanmei's delicate little face, shadowed by faint dark circles under her eyes.

When she saw Huo Yuhao open his eyes, Tang Sanmei's hand froze around the towel. Joy filled her clear eyes.

"You're awake!"

Tang Sanmei's voice shook with excitement. She quickly tossed the towel into a basin and picked up a bowl of warm rice porridge from the nearby table.

"Here, have some rice porridge first. You got soaked in that downpour and were badly hurt. I've done what I could to clear your meridians. How do you feel now?"

As Tang Sanmei spoke, she scooped up a spoonful of porridge, blew on it carefully, and brought it to Huo Yuhao's lips.

At the sight of the spoon, Huo Yuhao's Tang Buddha PTSD nearly flared up on the spot.

In his previous life, Tang Buddha had screwed him over from beginning to end.

Yet Tang Sanmei was now holding a bowl of rice porridge and feeding him.

Remembering the principles Tang Buddha had lived by, Huo Yuhao's first thought was that the porridge was poisoned.

His brows drew together. Unsure whether this whole scene was still under Tang Buddha's control, he instinctively shrank toward the corner, his eyes full of suspicion.

"What exactly do you want?"

Huo Yuhao's question came out cold.

Seeing the wariness in Huo Yuhao's eyes, Tang Sanmei was not angry. Instead, sympathy appeared in her eyes.

She set down the bowl and took two steps back. Then, before Huo Yuhao's disbelieving eyes, she dropped to both knees.

"What are you doing?"

Huo Yuhao was so startled he nearly sprang out of bed, but his five- or six-year-old body had no strength at all.