It was the Game Hall's tenth day in business.
Qin Chuan stood by the window on the second floor, holding a cup of cool tea and watching the people lining up below.
The line stretched from the entrance all the way around the street corner, with at least two hundred people in it. There were young Soul Masters in fitted combat clothes, middle-aged people who had brought their families to join the excitement, and a few disciples in the uniforms of various sects, huddled in the line and looking around.
Ten days.
Qin Chuan did some calculations in his head.
He knew the figures on the system panel by heart: 1,030,000 total points, just over 800,000 swallowed up by the various costs of maintaining the shop, and a net profit of 200,000 points.
He had made a profit. But more importantly, he had gained soul power.
Every purchase and every player's positive emotions were converted into soul power by the system and poured into his meridians. Ten days ago, he had been level fifty-one. When he got up that morning and circulated his soul power, he discovered that he had leveled up again.
Level fifty-eight.
Seven levels in ten days.
No Soul Master in the history of the Douluo Continent had ever achieved that speed.
Even Tang San, with his twin martial souls and cheat-like immortal herbs, could not have gained that many levels at the same stage.
Qin Chuan took a sip of tea, feeling thoroughly at ease.
His goal was clear: break through to level sixty as soon as possible and unlock his sixth soul skill, "One, Two, Three, Freeze."
It was an absolute crowd-control skill. Once he had it, his ability to protect himself would take a huge leap forward.
Yan's roar came from downstairs: "Line up! All of you, get in line! Anyone cutting in loses membership points!"
Qin Chuan shook his head and looked away.
Life had been going smoothly. Sister Dongdong invited him over for tea every few days.
Too smoothly.
He kept feeling that something was wrong, but he could not put his finger on it.
Several hundred kilometers west of Spirit City.
Four horses ran abreast along the main road.
The two in front were black, and the two behind were chestnut. All their riders wore ordinary clothes, with no sect banners flying.
The man in the lead was powerfully built, with a sallow face and a scraggly beard. He was Tang Hao.
His soul power had fully recovered. The Rule Bullet's deprivation was temporary, not permanent damage.
But his expression was grim. What had happened in Spirit City that day had dealt him a heavy blow.
In front of a hundred thousand people, a little level fifty-one support Soul Master had used a revolver to force him to shoot himself in the head. Then his soul power had been drained on the spot, and Chrysanthemum Douluo had hauled him off to prison by the back of his collar like a useless wreck.
Fortunately, Tang Hao had recovered quickly, and Pope Bibi Dong had not come, allowing him to escape.
The story had already spread across the entire continent.
People talked about it in teahouses, in restaurants, and even at roadside stalls.
The accounts differed, too. In some versions, he had been beaten to death and come back to life. In others, he had knelt on the ground and begged for mercy. Still others had Qin Chuan chasing him all over the arena.
The more the story spread, the more outrageous it became.
Tang Hao had never suffered such humiliation in his life.
Riding beside him was a middle-aged man who looked to be in his early forties, with a square face, a broad forehead, and thick, heavy eyebrows. He wore a gray robe, with a cracked jade pendant at his waist.
Tang Xiao. The current sect master of the Clear Sky Sect. Tang Hao's older cousin.
Tang Xiao had barely spoken along the way. He was not a man of few words; this matter was simply too serious, and he needed to think it through before speaking.
The riders on the two chestnut horses behind them were Dugu Bo and Yu Yuanzhen.
Dugu Bo was as thin as a bamboo pole. Dressed in a robe, with a gaunt frame and sunken eyes, he looked like an old man with one foot in the grave. Yet he sat steadily in the saddle, nothing like a sickly invalid.
Yu Yuanzhen was even easier to recognize. The patriarch of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan was over seventy, with a massive, powerful build and the oppressive presence of someone long accustomed to authority.
His long, silvery-white hair, streaked with a few strands of black, was tied back, and a long gray-white beard hung beneath his chin. His face was sharply angular, with prominent brow bones and slightly deep-set eyes. His irises were a dark navy blue, his gaze as piercing as a thunderclap. He commanded awe without a hint of anger.
After the four horses had run for most of the day, a rolling mountain range appeared ahead.
The four men had deliberately suppressed their soul power throughout the journey. Rather than flying through the air, they had chosen to travel on horseback to keep the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect from detecting the soul power fluctuations of Titled Douluos at a distance and alerting them too soon.
Before them, the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect stood against the mountainside.
Even from afar, they could see its iconic seven-story Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda. Tier upon tier of buildings rose along the mountain's slope, and in the lingering light of sunset, a gentle, brilliant seven-colored halo shimmered over the pagoda.
Tang Hao reined in his horse and glanced back at the other three.
"We're here."
Tang Xiao swung down from his horse and brushed the dust off his clothes. Dugu Bo slowly slid out of the saddle. Yu Yuanzhen landed heavily, drawing a dull thud from the ground.
The four stood at the foot of the mountain, looking up at the magnificent, sprawling sect buildings halfway up the slope.
Tang Hao spoke. "Let me make this clear first. We're not here to ask for their help."
Tang Xiao glanced at him.
Tang Hao's voice was level. "We're here to tell them this must be done."
Yu Yuanzhen frowned. He had dealt with Ning Fengzhi many times and knew that the master of the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was too slippery to get a grip on. He did not take sides lightly.
"Tang Hao, that old fox Ning Fengzhi won't be easy to persuade. Are you confident?"
Tang Hao did not answer. He strode straight toward the sect's mountain path.
The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect's council hall.
Ning Fengzhi sat in the seat of honor, holding a cup of tea. Its lid was tilted half open, and steam rose through the gap.
He wore a casual navy-blue robe that day, with no crown and his hair loosely tied into a bun. He looked quite relaxed, but the two men standing behind him were anything but.
Sword Douluo Chen Xin and Bone Douluo Gu Rong.
The two Titled Douluos stood behind Ning Fengzhi, one on either side, like a pair of pillars.
An attendant's voice came from outside, respectfully announcing, "Sect Master, Tang Hao is outside the hall with three Titled Douluos, requesting an audience."
Ning Fengzhi's hand paused around his teacup. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, and he said casually, "Show them in."
The attendant stepped forward and pushed open the council hall doors from outside.
Tang Hao entered first, with Tang Xiao, Dugu Bo, and Yu Yuanzhen following behind.
Ning Fengzhi lifted his gaze from his teacup and looked at Tang Hao.
"Brother Tang, it's been a long time."
Tang Hao dispensed with pleasantries and sat straight down in a guest seat. The other three each found seats as well.
Ning Fengzhi replaced the lid on his teacup and set it on the table.
"Go on. What warrants all four of you coming here together?"
Tang Hao did not speak immediately. He glanced at Tang Xiao.
Tang Xiao took the hint and cleared his throat. "Sect Master Ning, I assume you saw what happened at the Soul Master Tournament."
Ning Fengzhi nodded. "I did."
Tang Xiao said, "Then you should know that Spirit Hall now has someone new."
"Qin Chuan." Ning Fengzhi named him directly.
Tang Xiao nodded. "Yes. The God of Drama martial soul. This martial soul was lost long ago, and almost no one has heard of it. Now that it has appeared in Spirit Hall's hands, the balance of power across the entire continent is going to change."
Ning Fengzhi raised his tea and took a sip without replying.
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