In a haze, Tang Wulin awoke on the hard bedboards. He instinctively tried to speak, but his throat burned with pain.
"Little beauty~ you're awake~"
Tang Wulin opened his weary eyes and suddenly saw the figure that "haunted his soul and dreams."
"Ah-!"
He screamed and took a few ragged breaths. Coming to his senses, he hurriedly pitched his voice higher and said, "Otou-san, what is it? You scared me~"
"Little beauty, we're almost at the Douluo Continent. Get up..."
Hearing this, Tang Wulin immediately sighed in relief, thinking that he had feared last night's Handan and Tianjin had failed to satisfy goshujin.
No, no, you're Tang Wulin, the Dragon Emperor Douluo!
How could you sink so low!
It was all that hateful fellow's fault!
But after being developed by that fellow, he was gradually finding it harder to do without...
By the time Tang Wulin finally finished dressing, squirming bashfully with a hand supporting his slender waist, a figure abruptly appeared before him.
He was tall and straight, standing in the shadows with an oppressive air of somber solemnity.
Long silver-gray hair threaded with pale blue spilled from his crown, uneven strands falling over his forehead and partly concealing his face. A cold, rigidly sculpted dark blue half-mask covered the right side of his face, its patterns like shattered metal, its edges sharp.
His exposed skin was pale, his cheekbones sharply defined. His sole visible eye, the left, was a cold, pale gray-blue, its depths as still as ten-thousand-year-old ice.
"You... who are you?" Tang Wulin cried in his ducklike rasp.
"How pitiful... how lamentable..."
"The Dragon Emperor Douluo of old... since you've lost your former edge, keeping all that origin power in your body is truly a waste."
Not a shred of the Dragon Emperor Douluo's dignity remained