Chapter 310 - Xiaogang Steps Out

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--

"Mubai!" Tang San's eyes went bloodshot at the sight of his teammate's ruined body. Whatever their differences, Dai Mubai had fought beside him, one of the very few people in Shrek Academy Tang San genuinely counted as a comrade. And now he'd been left crippled for life. There was no way Tang San could let that stand.

"I'll make every one of you pay with your lives!" His fourth spirit ring, purple, flared to brilliant life as he unleashed his Blue Silver Grass's fourth soul skill.

Without the Nefarious Fire Chrysanthemum or the Eight Spider Lances this time around, Tang San hadn't absorbed the ten-thousand-year Earth Demon Spider ring he once had. Instead, his fourth ring had come from a nearly six-thousand-year Bloodthirsty Demon Spider, granting him a different skill entirely: Blue Silver Spider Sting.

The skill unleashed dozens of tiny, needle-thin spider spears laced with Bloodthirsty Demon Spider venom—blindingly fast, with serious penetrating force, and a solid chance of drawing blood on impact. Tang San had used the move before to great effect. This time, though, he didn't fire them outright—he wove them into his hidden weapon throwing technique instead.

At the same moment Tang San unleashed his fourth skill, Davis and Zhu Zhuyun combined their strength into their Martial Soul Fusion technique—Netherworld White Tiger—and lunged at him with everything they had. Powerful as it was, the fused beast found itself struggling against Tang San's hidden weapons: his projectiles curved mid-flight, and even as the tiger's claws swatted away more than ten of the spider spears, one or two still found their mark.

That was all it took. Poisoned by the Bloodthirsty Demon Spider's venom, the Netherworld White Tiger's soul power circulation slowed and scrambled, its rhythm falling apart, its speed dropping sharply.

Tang San seized the opening. Black light coiled around his hand, and a black iron hammer, roughly a meter long, materialized out of thin air as he brought it down again and again on the staggering beast.

"Haotian Hammer—Chaotic Cloak!"

One strike. Two. Three. By the eighteenth blow, the poisoned Netherworld White Tiger finally buckled, crashing down hard into the marble floor of the arena, its body driven into the stone in a burst of dust. As the dust cleared, Zhu Zhuyun and Davis lay sprawled in spreading pools of blood, dark venom mixing in with the red seeping from wounds on their backs—unmistakable proof of the poison at work.

Just as Tang San raised his hammer for a finishing blow, Flander's voice rang out urgently from below. "Tang San! Don't do anything reckless—killing isn't permitted in this tournament!"

The words snapped Tang San back to his senses. His gaze shifted instead to the rhino-type Soul Master still locked in combat with Xiao Wu. Seeing both his captain and vice-captain go down, the man wasted no time playing the hero—he stunned Xiao Wu one last time with his stomp skill, drove a kick into her chest that sent her flying, then leapt clean off the arena to concede.

Before he vanished, he shot Tang San a final smirk, mouthing something unmistakable: I kicked your girlfriend's chest.

Fury boiled up in Tang San, but the man had already forfeited and left the stage—there was nothing left to be done. This was the Papal Palace, after all. Break the rules here, and he might never leave at all.

And so, Shrek Academy claimed the win, earning their place in tomorrow's championship match against the Spirit Hall team.

—

Meanwhile, in Spirit City, deep within Avici Hell.

Cell number eleven.

Breathing hard, he pulled himself up, yanked his pants back on, cast a glance at the prisoners scattered haphazardly across the floor, and dropped himself down onto one of them with a look of thorough satisfaction. Then he gave the man beneath him a kick. "Rose. Rose! Get up and fetch me a basin of water—time to wash up down there."

The crew-cut, middle-aged man on the floor groaned, both hands clutching his backside, eyes bloodshot, face twisted in agony. This, of course, was Yu Xiaogang. A week had passed since Hu Liena had thrown him into this cell, and in that time he hadn't so much as glimpsed the outside world—subjected instead to near-daily torment at the hands of the scarred, hulking man who ran the place.

Just moments ago, he'd been forced to help that man "wipe out an army," so to speak.

The scarred man kicked him again. "Get up. Quit playing dead, or I'll have Chrysanthemum and Narcissus join in and really give you something to cry about."

At the words "give you something," Yu Xiaogang flinched, forcing himself upright through the searing pain in his lower half despite every instinct screaming at him to stay down.

He was, quite simply, terrified of the man—over two and a half meters tall, built like an ox, with proportions to match something out of a nightmare. More than once, the pain had been so severe he'd been certain he was going to die; only the Chrysanthemum Soul Master's healing had kept him breathing.

Clang. Screech.

More doors, opening and shutting somewhere down the corridor. The scrape of boots against stone followed close behind.

A flicker of desperate hope sparked in Yu Xiaogang's eyes.

"What are you staring at? Get moving, unless you want another round." The scarred man cuffed him across the back of the head. "Careful now, or I won't bother asking Chrysanthemum to patch you up next time."

The final iron door swung open, and two guards stepped in—among them the freckled jailer who'd first suggested giving Yu Xiaogang "special treatment." Watching him hobble across the cell bowlegged, the guard couldn't hold back a laugh. "Scarface, you been at the new guy again?"

"Heh, come on now, would I do that?" Scarface's expression turned instantly obsequious, all fawning smiles. "Just helping him settle in, is all." He might rule cell number eleven with an iron fist, but he knew better than to cross the guards—they had plenty of ways to make his life a living hell if he did.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The freckled guard waved him off and jerked a thumb at Yu Xiaogang. "This old man's not just some nobody, you know. You have any idea who he is?"

"Surname's Yu... could he be—?" A guess was already forming behind Scarface's eyes.

"Bingo. He's from the Thunder Tyrant Dragon Clan—one of the Three Great Sects. Eldest son of the current sect leader, Thunder Douluo Yu Yuanzhen. This is Yu Xiaogang."

"One of the Upper Three Sects." A gleam of feverish excitement crossed Scarface's scarred, brutish face, flushing it red. Who could have imagined it—him, of all people, getting a taste of a disciple from one of the Upper Three Sects in this lifetime?

"Anyway, orders came down from above just now. Somebody put in a good word for the old codger—we're letting him go."

At the word release, joy surged through Yu Xiaogang's chest—only to plummet straight back down at what came next.

"Order says he's free at sundown. That's still two hours off, so…" The freckled guard let the sentence trail off with a knowing, unsettling smile.

"Say no more, say no more." Scarface bowed toward the guard, then turned back to Yu Xiaogang with a grin. "Rose, Rose. Better brace yourself—two more hours to go."

He couldn't care less about the Upper Three Sects, the Lower Four Sects, none of it. Once you landed in cell eleven, even a dragon had to coil up and behave. This was Avici Hell, after all—built specifically to break the worst of the worst. He'd clawed his own way up through eight brutal years just to become the man running this cell.

After all that, he figured—didn't he deserve a little fun?

(End of Chapter)

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