The Strange Boy

"Stop! This is Spirit Hall. Unauthorized people are forbidden from entering."

Outside Spirit Hall, two guards in heavy armor stood with their spears crossed, shouting at the disheveled stranger before them.

The boy looked wretched. Grime covered his face, wounds covered his body, and he reeked of blood mingled with rotting mud.

"Spirit Hall?"

At that name, familiar yet strange, a glimmer flashed through the boy's dull eyes.

He raised his head toward the two guards, but his gaze drifted past them to the sacred, magnificent building behind them.

He stood there silently, staring at it in a daze.

The guards were displeased, but rather than drive him off with their weapons, they barked:

"Little beggar, this isn't a place you can come. Leave at once."

While the boy stood lost in thought, three people approached from behind him.

"What's going on?"

The speaker was short and stout, with slightly ruddy skin and two short wisps of mustache. A faint smile hung on his lips as he spoke.

Recognizing him, the guards bent slightly in greeting. "Greetings, Steward Wang!"

One guard continued:

"Steward Wang, we don't know where this beggar came from. Ever since he arrived, he's been staring at Spirit Hall.

"We pitied him and figured our hall's grandeur had struck him dumb, so we didn't chase him away."

The boy came to his senses. Ignoring Steward Wang, he stared straight at the woman who had arrived with him.

She had phoenix eyes with golden pupils, skin fairer than snow and lustrous as jade, and an air of innate nobility.

Even without careful adornment, her beauty was peerless.

Seeing the boy's blatant disrespect, the other man circulated his Soul Power and moved to kill him.

The woman raised a hand to stop him.

She could faintly sense an inexplicable closeness to the boy before her.

At the sight of her, the boy recalled a portrait displayed in his family's home. His whole body trembled.

He pointed at her, his voice shaking.

"You... you... who are you? Why do you look so much like the portrait of my ancestor?"

Steward Wang had heard the guards' explanation and understood what had happened.

He was not as patient as they were. Seeing the boy claim a connection to the woman, he snapped:

"Little beggar, watch your tongue! Our young mistress is of noble standing. How could your ancestor compare to her?"

The woman frowned, somewhat displeased, but did not rebuke the boy.

She waved Steward Wang down as well, then asked calmly, "Boy, what's your name? And who is your ancestor?"

The boy froze, seemingly caught in a memory.

His hand fell. Looking dejected, he spoke of former glory in a bleak voice:

"My ancestor was Qian Renxue, the Second Generation Angel God. Back then, how mighty our Angel Lineage was! Across the continent, who dared deny us respect?"

All of them were stunned.

Steward Wang reacted first. He summoned his Soul Power, intending to subdue the boy.

The boy paid no heed to what they thought. He lowered his head to look at his filthy body, then at his cracked palms. His voice suddenly rose:

"If our ancestor hadn't been foolish enough to believe the Sea God's slander and bring about Spirit Hall's downfall, how would we have become its hunted remnants, pursued for ten thousand years and treated as food by Evil Soul Masters?"

The more he spoke, the more agitated he grew, his voice turning feverish.

"The heavens are unjust! The heavens are unjust!"

With that final cry, emotion overwhelmed him. Blood sprayed from his mouth, and he passed out.

He had truly burned himself out.

He had crossed into Douluo Continent, awakened the Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul, and even possessed full innate Soul Power. He had thought a secure life awaited him. Instead, he had arrived in the era of the Peerless Tang Sect.

At seven, he had awakened his Martial Soul. That very afternoon, his village had been slaughtered, and Evil Soul Masters had chased him across the continent.

He had spent six years fighting to survive, his mind already on the verge of collapse. At thirteen, he had finally advanced to Soul King, with a promising future ahead.

Yet less than three minutes after his advancement, he had looked up to find Ye Xishui's full-power attack bearing down on him.

To hunt a mere Soul King, they had sent a level ninety-nine Limit Douluo. The nerves he had held taut for so long finally snapped.

World, just perish!

As the boy fainted, pain suddenly gripped Qian Renxue's heart, as though ten thousand ants were tearing frantically at her chest.

Steward Wang bristled. Soul Power enveloped his palm as he reached for the boy. "Utter nonsense. Young mistress, this person's origins are unknown, and he has disturbed you. I'll dispose of him at once."

The young mistress Steward Wang addressed was none other than Qian Renxue, the young mistress of Spirit Hall. And he was no Steward Wang, but Porcupinefish Douluo, Ci Xue.

"Steward Wang" was merely a false identity he used to enter and leave Spirit Hall conveniently.

The third person was Qian Renxue's other guard: Snake Lance Douluo, She Long.

At once, five Soul Rings—yellow, yellow, purple, purple, and black—rose beneath Qian Renxue's feet. Her Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul burst uncontrollably from her body, radiating killing intent.

"How dare you!"

Qian Renxue's fury blazed. Almost at the same instant, a sacred sword formed in the Six-Winged Angel's hand and pointed at Ci Xue.

Ci Xue had guarded Qian Renxue for ten years and had never seen her so angry. He withdrew his Soul Power, dropped to one knee, and pleaded:

"I acted rashly. Please punish me, young mistress."

Qian Renxue faltered for a moment, then regained control of herself.

Ci Xue and She Long were close to her. They were more than mere subordinates—more like elders who had always protected her.

She glanced at Ci Xue, reluctance in her eyes, but did not apologize. Instead, she recalled her Martial Soul and hurried to the boy.

She crouched and pressed a hand glowing gold against his chest.

Golden light entered his body, and his contorted face relaxed a little.

The Six-Winged Angel Martial Soul could dispel evil, but it could not heal others.

Qian Renxue poured a vast amount of Soul Power into the boy, yet his condition did not improve. Growing anxious, she ordered:

"She Long, Ci Xue, find a way to save him."

"Yes, young mistress."

Ci Xue stepped forward. He used his immense Soul Power to protect the boy's body, then sent a thin thread of it inside to examine him.

As his Soul Power moved through the boy, Ci Xue's brow tightened. He sighed.

"Young mistress, this boy has fractures throughout his body. His organs are ruptured, and every meridian is shattered. It's a miracle he's survived this long.

"I'm incapable of healing him. I can only use my Soul Power to keep him alive for now."

Qian Renxue's face turned deathly pale. Pain gripped her chest again, and boundless sorrow spread from the depths of her heart.

She clutched her chest, unable to understand what was happening to her.

At that moment, all her strength seemed to leave her. Distraught, she asked:

"Is there no other way?"

She Long and Ci Xue exchanged a glance. Both saw the confusion in the other's eyes.

They had protected Qian Renxue ever since she left Spirit Hall and were certain she had no connection to the boy lying on the ground.

But now it seemed she not only had a connection to him—it ran deep.